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Vintage isn’t usually first on the list when I’m shopping wines, but there is no overstating its importance. A great growing season is the cherry on top after the requisite work has been done in the vineyards—however reactive. I culled a couple affordable older vintages, carefully searching closeout bins across SoCal to see just how long-lived a regional red wine—appellation Bourgogne contrôlée—could be.
2007 was a challenging vintage in the Côte d’Or, with early heat spells in spring and a cool summer that threatened rot and mildew—some of the best producers were forced to reduce volume, sorting out affected grapes for days before they pressed the best selections. With the mixed vintage report I found a lot of interesting closeouts from 2007.
One of the best values I found, under twenty dollars, was clad in a non-descript periwinkle label—2007 Domaine Sylvain Pataille Bourgogne. I drew out six ounces to rest comfortably on the kitchen countertop while I analyzed for color. As the red wine stretched its legs there was a clear ruby sheen with medium intensity and slight rim variation in the glass. After thirty minutes—about as long as I could patiently wait—I fetched the glass, sniffed, and found an effusive perfume of aardbei thee (Dutch strawberry tea), over new shoe leather and damp oak. It was simple, without the floral nuance, but making up with its surprising grip on primary red fruits that were steeped in earthy intrigue.
Not disappointed but was hardly wowed until the following night. The very same Pinot Noir had really made itself at home twenty four hours later, opening up, the flavors were deeper, the finish was longer, the body, more sultry. It had my attention.
The 2007 vintage was given a passing grade by critics and importers. That vintage provided me with the best experience and value overall—maybe they didn’t give bottles like this a second sip. It’s a shame that Domaine Sylvain Pataille cannot be found easily but that’s also what makes it special—it’s worth searching for.
After Rioja there was only one place left to discover in Spain: Sharing its esteemed status (DOCa) with Rioja, Priorat is known for crafting sinewy Garnacha-heavy blends from the North East of the Iberian Peninsula. It was time for my tasting group to validate the region’s reputation.
Aspect is everything in Priorat. Already growing in higher altitude, the grapes—Garnacha, Cariñena and some international varietals—are raised on steep terraced hillsides comprised of red/blue slate and quartz that account for the notable muscle and mineral undercurrent found in the best examples. We would be discerning terroir, pure and simple.
From the onset of the tasting, the experience was monolithic. The alleged aging potential of the wines was making itself known; in the rotation we were bombarded by a galère of hot-blooded (high alcohol) wines with youthful tannins and unencumbered dark fruit hearts that would take some time to integrate fully. Still, there were a few beauties in the Priory.
Interestingly enough, we had one bottle appear twice in our lineup (positions 1 and 5). Both bottles identical, sharing the 2004 birth year, but oddly, they were completely different in terms of evolution. Storage was now in question. The first time we tasted the 2004 Primitiu de Bellmunt, a blend of 55% Garanacha and 45% Cariñena, it exhibited cherries, licorice, tea, smoke and pepper all painted black. By the time we tasted the twin’s offering, it had been sapped of all its elegance and intrigue, falling short on the finish—two completely different tales.
The anomaly wasn’t the highlight however, just an interesting observation. Instead, tasting honors came courtesy of our last wine of the night, which took us to “funky town.” A mature bottle of 2004 Embruix de Vall Llach showed its age with a garnet hue that was bricking toward the rim. Our noses were buried deep inside our bulbs, inhaling that entire developing aroma of cooked plums, asphalt, black tea and soy sauce enjoyably. On the palate the robust red possessed a graceful structure with curvy body (medium-plus), mouth-filling tannins that conveyed a throat-warming landscape of roasted black plums, spice and dank cellar.
That last bottle was captivating. While all the wines retained their high alcohol character to some degree, with no wines registering under 14.5% ABV, only a few producers were able to use it as an advantage. In no case was that more true than the Embruix, which boasted the highest alcohol content of the evening (15.1%), and translated it into a boost of body that helped convey the developing complexity eloquently.
My Pinot Noir promised excursion continued with another expression from a large house in Burgundy. On a rainy evening in LA, I was documenting the overlapping features between producers while comparing a glass of 2009 Bouchard Père & Fils Bourgogne “Reserve” Pinot Noir to the recent memories of Jadot.
A match for the drizzly weather, the ruby tinted vin was wet in character and true to its origin, emitting a moderately expressive and developing fragrance of red berries, worn leather and wet mushroom. The development brought out an interesting set of flavors that made the Pinot Noir slightly more enjoyable by olfactory alone. Not surprisingly it translated well to the palate with medium body and acidity, delivering some earthy tones and a soft raspberry cream finish that carried longer (medium-plus) than expected.
The rain had heightened my tasting experience, giving Bouchard a distinct edge over last week’s Jadot’s lowest level offering. Though its singsong characteristics—red fruits, body and alcohol—were shared, distinct markers of the grape, there was a bit of finesse and texture in Bouchard that was missing in my previous tasting. A little extraction goes a long way. As Burgundy becomes my mantra, I’m confident that complexity will continue to trend up.
Every other Tuesday I look forward to a wild array of wines—many I’ve rarely encountered before—culled from LA’s finest bazaars by my tasting group peers, to paint an important region or varietal accurately; the tastings are meant to flesh out a theme. The fabled Rioja region of Spain would be the latest to lend its shadings.
We got things started with a familiar friend; a white wine from R. Lopez de Heredia, but it wasn’t the oxidized wine—chiming with notes of Marcona almonds, preserved lemons, button mushrooms and white eraser—that had our heads turning… rather quickly in the tasting rotation there was a bottle of questionable provenance in our midst that caused a stir—a genuine FREAK!
The wine following in the tasting appeared youthful in all aspects, from its medium ruby tones inside the glass to its cherry and plum flavors that sprang forward. I was in no way prepared for the reveal.
When we had finished our blind assessment of all six wines we removed their disguises. My wine world turned upside down in an instant after having confidently penned 2005 as my guess for vintage on the first red, staring in disbelief at a bottle of 1995 Bodegas Otañón Reserva Rioja. Only ten years off! Two of us in the tasting refused to believe the vintage—our notes could not support the age—there was nothing about it that was remotely close to eighteen years of age. We immediately filled our glassware with a second pour, which showed no signs of bricking (often found on aged wines) in color and the fruit and earth woven textile that came across in the perfumed esters were just developing; never mind the tannin structure (medium-plus and finely grained) and pert acidity of the Rioja.
Across the spectrum of Reserva level Riojas that found their way to the table, there was nothing quite like the Otañón, even the 1998 Faustino showed Jimmy Stewart like aging—graceful but apparent—with secondary and tertiary flavors superseding the sour cherry fruit.
The wine of the night was thus mired in controversy. I remained obstinate in my stance, refusing to give into the rebuttals, but in the end I simply pulled back and enjoyed the Spanish red for what it was, regardless of age, admiring the freshness especially… if it actually was from 1995.
Zinfandel wasn’t out of the question but it had long been forgotten as the easy answer to pairing with burgers. After other varietals that will often show more balance—in terms of alcohol—I’ve been guilty of putting Zinfandel (my first wine romance) on the back burner while seeking obscure wines that would also pair well, until last week, when I had a rare steak dinner—the steak itself being odd, but not rare.
Rummaging through my cellar I found a bottle of 2007 Seghesio “Home Ranch” Zinfandel, cooling comfortably in the depths that was a fitting candidate for that random repast.
Six ounces apiece were shared into stems the while dinner materialized.
When everything was plated, we cheersed (sic) to an opaque garnet Zinfandel redolent of blackberry and licorice with minor developing notes of leather. On the palate, it had married that opulent black fruit bramble with vanilla and coffee on a marvelously long finish. The Zinfandel packed a Stephen Segal-like punch, swiftly striking with seamlessly integrated HIGH ABV (15.5%), and before I knew it, we were both buzzed.
It fit the occasion, taming the beef like a ranch hand. Seghesio was one of the first wineries I fell in love with after spending a lot of time in Sonoma County, and after seeing this bottle of 2007 Home Ranch Zinfandel in action I still see the appeal.
I wanted to start fresh, wiping my slate clean of all that I thought I knew about Pinot Noir from Burgundy. Begin again—not that I would forget some of the Grand Cru red wines I’d tasted in years past; those experiences had been banked— instead, to enhance my Burgundy knowledge and drink more Pinot Noir in the process, I thought it would be great to traipse through Burgundy, one bottle at a time, trying to ascertain differences, stylistically and terroir-driven, between simple Bourgogne Rouge to Grand Cru Bonnes-Mares within Morey-Saint-Denis, from small producers to the most well-known—I was anxious to begin.
My Pinot journey would begin with a 2010 Louis Jadot Bourgogne Rouge. Hardly a romantic start, rather I was looking for a “typical” expression of Pinot Noir—loaded with red fruits and floral touches that would befit the grape’s delicate frame and hopefully set the middle bar.
The Pinot played out somewhat as expected: The clear ruby liquid smelled of ripe strawberries, red cherries and a hint of sweet rose petals. The French red was dangerously thin on the palate; with decent acidity (teetering on medium-plus) and light body, it smacked of freshly picked summer berries, packing a medium finish.
Jadot’s Pinot Noir is ubiquitous and delightfully fresh. Found on most grocers’ shelves in the United States, it serves as a fair introduction to the varietal but came across in this sample a little too easy. No complex aromas or flavors and without a serious finish, it was, in fact, a tad disappointing. Nonetheless, a necessary step in familiarizing myself with a significant producer’s style. Certainly there are better examples of entry level Pinot Noir out there; I look forward to discovering them. Baby steps.
Six bottles under wraps, amidst charcuterie and cheese plates on a busy table carrying a pitcher of water, spit cups and stemware, the only certainty being that all wines hailed from Piedmont—another chapter from the chronicles of my tasting group.
Right out of the gate we had two white wines split between two heavyweight producers—Favaro’s Erbaluce di Caluso and Vietti’s Roero Arneis. It was that latter that brought the group to their knees.
A golden glimmer in the bulb with a faint petillance (tiny bubbles accruing at the bottom of the glass), the developing nose was dripping of complexity, showing lemon, celery root, candle wax and almonds. The transition to the palate was spectacular, not letting up from those deep aromatics, the Arneis with waxy texture, fanned out across the taste buds, bursting with apricots, lemon oil, toasted almonds and fennel seeds that finished long (medium-plus to pronounced).
After segueing to the red wines we were treated to some bottles that shattered our price ceiling, and in particular the fourth wine of the night (and not the most expensive) blew the others away gracefully. After the reveal we saw a seven-fifty of 2007 Ca’ del Baio Barbaresco Pora, still retaining a lot of youthful character with red cherries and rose petals on top, but as I dug deeper, licorice, leather and Cremini mushrooms were beginning to emanate. A robust mouth feel, with fine-grained tannins (high), high acidity, medium-plus body and alcohol—the winning attributes of a wine that will age effortlessly in the cellar.
After dinner we finished the night with a sweet splash of La Spinetta Bricco Quaglia Moscato d’Asti, reflecting on the varied tasting; half the wines shown were native varietals, sharing the stage with their well-known counterparts from Barolo and Alba. By the end of it my gums were still feeling the tannic grip of Freisa and Nebbiolo but I was ecstatic with the results that almost all the wines in our lineup were very good examples. Until next time.
My Syrah column remarked on its unimpressive showing during a January tasting where I was more in awe of the setting than the wines poured, and where the theory that the price point at which better Syrah appears is relatively high… seemed confirmed. I needed a recommendation, a bottle that had the potential to rescue the varietal from the doldrums.
A bottle of Syrah from Northern Rhône was the first opportunity I had to restore my vision of the noble grape. In January, shortly after the tasting group malaise, I was given a sample of 2009 Domaine Courbis Champelrose Cornas to ameliorate my impression.
Uncorking the Syrah I poured four ounces of medium-plus intensity garnet liquid into my stemware; it wasn’t the color that was riveting. The bouquet leaped from the glass (medium-plus intensity), a developing aroma of violets, dried thyme, ripe plums, cigar and roasted meat appeared. The wine was showing off. On the palate it was dry, filling out the palate with a medium-plus frame buttressed by fine and grippy tannins and a blend of muddled berries, red and black, plums, edible flowers, black pepper and dried herbs finishing long and balanced. From my view the Cornas has a long life ahead of it in the cellar—having a pleasing core of fruit, bright acidity and tannin to reward patience.
Domaine Courbis Champelrose Cornas is my wine of the month in February. Its pronounced aromatics coupled with sculpted frame and complexity bowled me over. I wasn’t ready for it. The modest price tag ranges from $35-$45, in California, still supporting my theory, but I would gladly pay that price for such a great example. Today I’m recommending this Syrah as a strong buy! Still waiting for the same effect below the $35 threshold… please tell me if you find one.
Admitting that Syrah is not my favorite grape, I have no issues with the varietal other than how much I pay to find quality examples. When it was pitched to my tasting group that it would be our next grape of focus, I was reserved but optimistic about the possibilities.
Our group had implemented new rules on buying wine for the tasting, to avoid the same region making multiple appearances—like, say, having Australia’s Barossa Valley light up the scoreboard. The real challenge was certain to be price; we defined our spending limits between the 20-35 dollar sweet spot, fingers crossed for great values.
Our six brown bags were passed around the table, yielding two different wines that were far apart in the flavor spectrum but equally enjoyable. The first wine of the night was actually one of the best, hailing from Edna Valley (in San Luis Obispo County). The 2007 Topanga Red Red Wine Syrah showed a deep and brooding ruby inside the bulb. The wine was voluptuous and darkly skewed, giving black fruits, creosote, black pepper and dried lavender. The finish was a bit warm (the alcohol and body were both in the medium-plus camp) but pleasant, and the red showed a big side of Syrah with balance.
The second winner appeared third in our lineup. An aromatic experience, this Syrah had an elegant perfume that demanded our attention from the first sniff, showing fragrant violets and more red flowers, white pepper, smoke and a blend of berries and plums. On the palate it displayed a softer hand with fine medium tannin, a svelte medium body, keeping the alcohol in check (medium) and flaunting a clean finish that resounded brightly of youthful fruits, herbs and spices. When unveiled it was no surprise that this was a cool climate Syrah from France’s Rhône Valley, specifically Yves Cuilleron’s 2010 Les Pierres Sèches from Saint-Joseph.
Apart from our setting, in a private room of Villetta in Brentwood, and the great spread of food, our tasting was otherwise lackluster: I was disappointed with the overall showing; four out of the six wines were out-of-balance. For these tasting group blogs the verdicts are always personal, sometimes harsh, and strive for concision, but many of the other wines that I omit to review are actually very good. This tasting showed the widest disparity between winners and losers, and unfortunately validated my sticker-price theory for Syrah. Anyone having any suggestions for better Syrah under $30, please feel free to comment!
From my brief time playing hockey in Washington State, I remember seeing Mount Rainier dominating the skyline on drives to games and practices. Anywhere I went in that state, she stood fixed, constant. In wine, another “mountain” reigns supreme—on the eastern half of that state, Red Mountain, produces structured Bordeaux blends and Rhone varietals. Recently given a sample of 2010 Hedges Family Estate Red Mountain wine, I was encouraged to revisit my other favorite State… sans pucks.
The Red Mountain AVA of Washington State sits on the eastern border of the Yakima Valley AVA, where grapes ripen on steep slopes of sandy loam. Unlike the western side of the state where I resided, Red Mountain AVA gets plenty of sun and a miniscule average of six to eight inches of rain per year, which allows the predominant varietals of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot and Syrah, among others, to ripen perfectly.
I poured a glass of the Hedges Red, a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Merlot, Malbec and Syrah, which painted the inside of my stemware a deep purple core with ruby highlights. The bouquet was aromatic (medium-plus intensity) showing a developing and hearty cocktail of dark cherry, blueberry, tobacco, coffee grounds and leather. On the palate, the medium, fine-grained tannins lent structure, and the medium body was filled out with the rugged flavors found in the perfume in a long and smooth finish.
The red wine showed exceptionally well, it convincingly married those earthy flavors found in Bordeaux with balanced New World fruit. Red Mountain might not actually be a mountain, like Rainier, but it’s a distinct and reputable wine-producing region and for good reason, as it begins to dominate the Washington wine landscape. Hedges Family Estate is a recommended buy!