Thanksgiving: A Retrospective.

Wine to go with turkey.
Having more or less survived the first rush of holiday buying I thought it was time to consider some aspects of wine drinking and retailing after the fact. If you look really closely to the photo above and see past the cranberry sauce, gravy, mashed potatoes (regular & sweet), the vegan pot pie and stuffed onion you will see a piece of turkey. In the middle of stabbing wantonly about the plate and swilling Saumur-Champigny from Terry Germain, I was reminded of those customers asking for wine to go with turkey, just turkey.

There is still a common cry for pinot noir from most people, probably because it’s the always the most heavily recommended wine from any newspaper or magazine wine column. Why is that you might ask? I have a theory, and it’s not the movie Sideways. Before the mid 90’s and the early aughts there was a lack of free and intelligent wine information in the form of the internet; blogs, wikipedia, wine writers from magazines, newspapers, etc. The literature most prominently available at the time (Wine Advocate & Spectator) was saturated with 90+ point wines of massive alcohol and heavy handed new oak. The kind of wines so extreme in every way that they lacked balance necessary to ease along a Thanksgiving meal.

I’d like to see anyone try to put down a bottle of Molly Dooker, or any Zinfandel at 16.5% abv, and not get into some sort of argument or fall asleep at the table.

So the existing writers grasped onto the buoy of pinot noir for Thanksgiving. Why not? Lower natural alcohol, higher natural acidity, freshness of fruit (ideally) - it all adds up to something one could easily enjoy with a meal. This advice was contagious, and besides, it’s easier to go into any ol’ retail shop and ask if they have pinot noir. Going to a shop and finding red from Chinon or pelaverga based wine from Piedmont in Italy is tougher at times.

The advice I gave to people was to look for mid-weight wines of balance, lower alcohol, and freshness. Aside from red Burgundy I was recommending a lot of lighter weight reds from southern Rhone, northern Italy, or the Loire valley, even some Austrian zweigelt or blaufrankisch. It’s advice that will hold through all the big meals in the holiday season.

For the record, I took a bottle of Herman J. Wiemer’s 2006 Brut (disgorged in 2010) and Domaine des Roches Neuves 2010 Saumur Champigny.

I could always say drink what you like though. All those people I saw drinking Yellowtail Shiraz at a b.y.o. sushi place in Philly can’t be wrong... can they?

I guess I need a bottle of wine because it’s thanksgiving...
I had at least a half dozen customers over the week whom I found wandering about the wine floor and each had their own shopping cart full of fabulous Belgian beer (we had a sale going on.) The usual disclaimer was, “I know my beer, but I’m lost on wine...” and they wanted a bottle or two of wine just in case someone actually wanted wine with their meal.

I say pair nothing but beer with your meal, you’ll do just fine. The same principles apply to beer as they do to wine. This is not the time for barley wines, imperial stouts, or Belgian quads. This is the time for saisons, triples, German lagers/pilsners, Flemish sours and sour brown ales. Pair the whole meal with beer and embrace it. If you have a 95 year old grandmother that only drinks white zinfandel, get her that bottle. She’s 95, she’s earned it. Otherwise, get some seriously good beer and enjoy.

Shopping the day of
1. Don’t do it.
2. If you must, then do it early. After 11 a.m. all bets are off.
3. If it’s after 11 a.m. you will find yourself in the company of shoppers who either can’t stand sobriety for more than six hours and did not prepare well for the limited retail hours. Or you might find yourself rubbing elbows with ‘serious’ wine buyers who only purchase wine that comes in a carafe bottle.

Should you really be paying attention to wine points?

In October the Delaware Rock Gym had a climbing competition. To prepare for such a thing many people had to create routes with beginnings and ends that would have a difficulty based on the moves required to succeed in each climb from start to finish.

To establish that difficulty we (staff and friends not planning on competing) would climb the boulder problems and weigh in on what we thought the difficulty was. While myself and Danielle thought one way, some of our co-workers felt another about the rankings in certain categories.

Now what could this possibly have to do with wine?

In rating these climbs for difficulty we were all doing so based on our personal strengths and weaknesses, whether we admitted it or not, it is what we do. I, for example, have tremendous reach but comparatively low strength. Meanwhile, a few of my fellow climbers don't have the same wingspan that I do, but they make up for it in sheer power. So when each person attempts, or completes, a climb they claim a difficulty based on how easy it was for them to finish said climb. This is also what happens when wine is rated on a point system.

In climbing one can say there are objective moves, holds, or techniques that are more advanced and require a more difficult grade. In wine, once one has moved passed the decision of whether or not a wine is flawed or sound, it could be said that there are (reasonably) objective levels of acidity, sugar, or tannin that equate to a certain flavor profile. Whether that flavor profile merits 100 points (!) or whether it rates a measly 94 points [ :( ] depends entirely on any number of factors.

If you like the idea of ranking wines against each other, and at times themselves, it could be worthwhile to follow these ratings. Though some of us in the industry, not that it is a big secret, do not put a lot of stock in wine ratings.

Picture a child's report card; in the second half of 5th grade little Ruddiger Fitzpatrick received a C- in literature. Does that mean you would assign a C- to Fitzpatrick in comprehending, discussing, and creating within the literary arts for his whole life? Or even rate him the same within Russian, Irish, Japanese, or Estonian lit? No. That grade is just a screen shot of his experience at one moment in time, hell even Einstein failed once or twice.

Wine is precisely the same way. Much like the wee Fitzpatrick will (or will not) grow in his ability to appreciate and perceive literature, wine the first year it is in bottle will taste and rate quite differently than the same wine 5 to 7 years after it has been put into bottle. The same wine will also change whether you have it by itself, aside a big honkin' steak, or with a salad.

To me grading wines on a static scale in some sort of tasting vacuum makes no sense, but that doesn't mean my opinions on the scale are right, it just means that there are folks who will agree and disagree with me.

Whether or not you like a numerical point system, the key is finding those whose palates you agree with engaging in a little discussion or research to help find a wine you like. If you like solid clear cut numbers, find a reviewer you like and look for their points. It doesn't matter if it's Jancis Robinson, Eric Asimov, Robert Parker, or Jon Rimmerman, what matters is you find a kindred spirit and you make sure it is their points as opposed to an arbitrary 92 points from 'wine and grape drink magazine.'


Just remember: high points, or cost, does not mean you'll enjoy a wine (or beer) and a lack there of does not mean you won't enjoy it. There is always some subjectivity to what you taste!

5 Grapes / regions that more people need to start trying.

I'm always happy to see people shopping for wine, don't get me wrong, but it seems like there are grapes or places people get pigeonholed into and settle in comfortably never to extricate themselves for something new. What I find most striking is the avoidance to branching out because, as one perplexing customer put to me, "I've never had it before, how do I know if I'll like it?"

That makes me wonder about their existence as a whole. No travel? No new food? No new movies? The hermit lifestyle must be difficult if not comforting.

1.) Beaujolais - The wines labeled Beaujolais Villages are often easy, fruit forward, and possessing a tell tale aromatic of some carbonic maceration (they only ferment by the whole bunch, baby!) The real magic comes in the 'crus' of Beaujolais: Moulin-a-Vent, Morgon, Chenas, Cote du Brouilly, etc. What really fascinates me about these wines are not the initial fruit aromas but the sneaky aromas and flavors on the side. The saline savoriness of Cote du Brouilly, the hint of something animal in Moulin-a-Vent, the flowers in Fleurie, and the stones in Chenas.

Pricing is pretty fair too, the top of the top-hard-to-get-geek-out-over and go crazy Beaujolais are in the low $40's. Not cheap, but when compared to Burgundy proper, practically anything from California, or top flight Bordeaux these wines downright cheap.

2.) Riesling - Yes Paul Grieco has been doing Summer of Riesling since 2008 and yes practically every interview I've ever read with a sommelier in any food and wine magazine has them raving about riesling, but there is a reason for that. There's focus, age-ability, and a complete range of dry with mouth searing acidity to dessert wine sweet that coats the entire mouth like the finest grape-y juice from the peaks of Mount Olympus.

The problem for riesling is when it's maligned by its out of balance incarnations that have either too much or too little sugar or acid. The power of many a Rheingau, the pleasant hint of sweetness underlying so many Mosel bottles, and the crazy minerality of Wachau in Austria. Come on, these wines show so much of where they're from and frankly, they are just cool.

3. Greece - The desire to have more people interested in Greek wines, honestly, is a quasi selfish desire. Just like my desire to have more people interested in Corsican wine (the more people interested, the more that sell, the more that sell the more I can taste!) The wines I've had from Greece to date have as versatile a range as many other parts of the world; reds that are anywhere from plush and soft to peppery and downright animal, and whites with flowers, fruit, and minerals to keep any one interested.

And for the problem, as there always is one: what do people know about Greece? Ouzo and retsina. Not a good start. Reds from Naoussa or Nemea are not huge leaps for people who drink some more classic incarnations of tempranillo or perhaps drier lighter weight Loire cab francs. The most interesting whites I've tasted so far have been from the island of Santorini. Assyrtiko is the primary varietal used in primarily volcanic soil. They have a persistent minerality that should be appreciable by higher end albarino drinkers or fans of Chablis.

4. Savoie & Jura - When I started at the 'ol State Line we had 3 or 4 wines from Jura and maybe 3 from Savoie. Now we have closer to 8 from Jura and about a dozen from Savoie (and I'll include Bugey since it's just across the river.) The regions themselves are in the east of France, Jura is about an hour east of Burgundy, and Savoie is right up against the Swiss border on the south side of Lake Geneva.

These wines have a little bit easier of a time getting their foot in the door than the ones I've mentioned so far. They have basically no reputation among non-serious wine drinkers, which means it's tough to bring a prejudice to the table, pricing starts at $10 a bottle and goes up to $80 plus for some tougher to get dessert wines, and there is a good range including delicious bubblies. The only aspect jarring to some people is the oxidative and high toned style exhibited in wines from Jura (often Sherry like.) With a little introduction though, some people take very strongly to these wines, myself included.

5. Burgundy - This may seem a bit confusing since Burgundy is probably the most famous wine region in the world, with some of the most expensive bottles, and some of the best known domaines. Burgundy does fine amongst serious collectors and has some great fans, but getting everyday wine drinkers into it sure is tough.

Whenever I happen upon some one in the shop looking for pinot noir once they know where we keep the Oregon and California pinot noir I would probably have to physically drag them to the red Burgundy section, because for some reason there is major aversion to even looking at the Burgundies. Even though, balk if you will, that's where the best pinot value is in my opinion.

White Burgundy is tougher too. Either most of our customers come looking for white Burgundy, or they come looking for a chardonnay they recognize. Almost always Californian. For all the $10 to $15 Cali wine you can buy, there are rivers of Macon Villages at the same price. For all the over oaked, over alcoholic, over malo-lactic, and over priced Cali wines you can buy there stellar ranges of flavor under $40 in Burgundy. When I think of the wild yeast fermented Guillemot-Michel in the mid $20's or the intensely rich, but balanced, Vire-Clesse from Thevenet at about $34, I can't believe some of the things people charge on the west coast.

I would be concerned I was getting too geeky, but I didn't mention Ribolla Gialla or orange wines made by Sistercian Nuns once, so I think I'm still safe.

Mezcal, a new way to get seriously geeky.

 We're all familiar with Tequila, some of us are so familiar that we swear it off forever. In a retail environment it is often the most maligned spirit by my customers due to a single night of unadulterated agave driven madness.

Get over it. Drinking too much happens, don't write off an entire tradition of distilling because of one night with Jose Cuervo and a double shot glass.

The title of this post is about mezcal, but the first thing mentioned is tequila. Why? All tequila is mezcal but not all mezcal is tequila, I would even draw a Venn diagram if I could figure out how to use Microsoft Paint. Tequila  is made with a specific variety of agave, agave tequilana, and produced within legally defined geographical limits in the Mexican state of Jalisco. The agave hearts after harvest are baked in large kilns to convert the starches to sugars that can be converted into alcohol.

Mezcal is the umbrella term for spirits made with agave that do not fall into the Tequila appellation of origin, and many of the ones I've tasted recently that are available at reasonable prices come from Oaxaca. Aside from regional differences, artisanal mezcals are made from different varietals of agave and buried in pit ovens or earthen mounds with stunningly hot rocks. This roasting takes place for days (3 seems to be a popular number) and turned into an alcoholic beverage to be distilled. The difference between the kiln roasting and the pit roasting is immediately obvious, even to those completely unfamiliar with tequila or mezcal.

The mezcals are smokey, oily in texture, totally bizarre, and very cool. On their own they are tremendously intense and idiosyncratic while in mixed drinks they produce extra dimensions of flavor that push boundaries and intrigue the drinker. The diversity of cocktail recipes are easy enough to find.

The real geek potential is in the minutiae of mezcal; just like hop or malt choice in beer, regional production of single malt scotches, and production methods or mesoclimates of wine, mezcal differences are easy to bond over and find perceived superiority.

Get serious beer geeks together, they may bond over styles of beer, or more interestingly, they argue about them. Do IPA's express terroir in hops or is one hop better than another? Do the Belgians, dare I say maybe the Germans make the best beer? Or are they left behind in this new world of American craft brew creativity? Is there anything more complex than a well aged aged sour beer?

Get wine fans together, they will throw down over regional superiority, Chablis v. Carneros, Napa v. Bordeaux, Australia v. North Rhone. New oak or old oak? Indigenous or commercial yeast strains? Technology, tradition, scholastic training, or hereditary knowledge,  et cetera, et cetera, et cetera...

When you see that these mezcals are coming from different altitudes, single villages, and different agave varietals you may let the geeking begin. The mezcals pictured above are courtesy of a group called Los Danzantes who have the goal of preserving local characters in food and spirits.

The line I tasted recently was their Alipus label: San Andres, San Baltazar, and San Juan. They were all tasted neat at room temperature without dilution, so obviously there's a lot more room to experiment with. Each of these distillates come from different elevations, they are made with espadin agave, and each one is from a different locations.

The San Andres was spicy, lightest of the three, and had underlying citrus flavors that kept it very well balanced. San Baltazar was viscous, powerful, smokey, and intense. And the San Juan struck me as slightly sweet, delicate, and with hints of woody herbs.

All different, and certainly all capable of inspiring discussion and experimentation. Let the geeking begin!

A man's home is his chateau, unless the Bordelais have something to say about it.

 According to La Revue du Vin de France, the good folks in Bordeaux take a certain amount of umbrage to the use of the word ‘chateau’ on American wine labels - I’m looking at you Chateau Montelena!

In France if the wine you make is labeled Chateau du Manchot Royal, the fruit must come from land owned by said chateau and vinified at exactly the same chateau in question. In these United States no such requirement exists. I could grow my own fruit, buy fruit, contract someone else entirely to do all the work and put my name on the label.

The Federation des grands vins de Bordeaux (FGVB) believes that the consumer will be misled by the word chateau and be under the assumption that my contract bottled Chateau Joe is all estate grown and bottled - clearly, my cunning knows no end. What the FGVB aims to do is prohibit wine exported from the U.S. into the EU from having the word chateau appear on their label at all.

This slightly reminiscent of Fox News’ attempt to trademark the phrase “Fair and Balanced,” except it might be slightly sillier. If I were to poll our customers, I imagine very few would be aware of those ‘chateau’ label laws within France. A misled consumer does not strike me as a very serious problem.  

Legal labeling distinctions about age, like reserve in Italy or Spain, or location, like Port from Portugal or Champagne from... Champagne, make complete sense. There is a delineation, and theoretically, and indication of quality or typicity in a wine. Wine labeled Champagne must be produced in the ol’ methode champenoise (another issue for another time), come from Champagne, and by golly, it better taste like Champagne.

The word ‘chateau’ alone doesn’t promise any sort of typicity. The Cru rating system in Bordeaux is disparate from that of Burgundy due to the fact that the Bordelais rate based on the Chateau, not the land. This means if a Chateau is granted its status in 1855 and it has 15ha of land, it can maintain this status even if the land increases to 30ha. In Burgundy the cru is the delineated plot of land, not the house making it.

If the Bordelais are really concerned about misleading the consumer, one would think that they might consider the existing rating system that exists on Bordeaux’s left bank.   

The issue will be settled on September 25th with the Comite de gestion de l'Organisation commune des marches agricoles (OCM.) La Revue also quotes Bernard Farges, president of la Confederation nationale des AOC, who is responsible for the AOC rules in France, in saying that there is some precedence with other labeling terms. Bernard is also vice president of la Federation des grands vins de Bordeaux (FGVB.)


I wonder where his opinion will fall...

Dashe Zinfandel - renewing my hope in Zinfandel since... today.

Shortly after my arrival to ye olde shoppe today a kindly salesman with a pleasant accent presented some of his fine wares. Sadly those fine wares happened to be, amongst other things, a number of wines from Rosenblum Cellars. I don’t know what their pedigree or history is exactly, but what I tasted today was an egregious mess of juice.

The cheapest bottle smelled like grapes macerated in a bucket with some sea water and oysters, while the higher end bottlings attained a respectable, and restrained, alcohol level pushing about 16% by volume. It was like a good port, except not from Portugal... and it tasted bad.

Those flavors still in mind and wreaking havoc on what little respect I had left for zinfandel, respect only being kept afloat by a few producers (Ridge & Proulx come to mind) one could imagine my concerns when we decided to open two new bottles we had just brought in to the store; 1. Dashe Les Enfants Terribles 2010 Heart Arrow Ranch zin from Mendocino and 2. same schtick as before but their 2011 McFadden Farm Potter Valley zin.

Their were hints though that I would soon be tasting something far different from the Rosenblums. One, the alcohol on the two wines are 13.8% and 13.6% respectively. Two, 100% Zinfandel with native yeast fermentation. Their website is full of info, my favorite bit is about their using, get this, old oak! Big old oak barrels! Not heavy toast, not 24 months in new American oak, there was a chance these wines were going to taste like actual fruit, not wood!

Without any more rambling proclamations I’ll just say the wines were great. The 2010 Heart Arrow Ranch at times while tasting it reminded me of good Beaujolais; specifically, but not identically, it reminded me of a California take on Moulin-a-vent from Domaine Diochan. There was fruit, tannin, and acidity. Going back to the glass later I pulled something a little more akin to older sangiovese. There’s a theme though, zinfandel that actually has acidity, some might say balance perhaps.

The Mcfadden Farm zin from 2011 was also very good, but a little softer and more fruit driven. What I did especially appreciate about it though was under that primary, and slightly soft, fruit. There was a notion of something slightly green a-la cabernet franc from the Saumur or Chinon, just a notion mind you.

All I can say is, thank you Dashe Cellars for renewing my hope in zinfandel.

Let the wine breathe for four days before you serve it.

Domaine de la Pinte, I take my hat off to you. Partially because this wine was so fantastic and, more importantly, I look bad in hats.

Domaine de la Pinte can be found in the village of Arbois in the region of Jura in eastern France, and though I'm not sure exactly how long they've been operating, I think they have a good bit of tradition going on at the winery. It tastes, and sounds, like traditional techniques with some organic (as of '99) and biodynamic certification (as of '09) going on.

The wine in the photo above is the current release of their savagnin, and yes, the current release is from 2005. Savagnin is a grape unique to Jura, and as far as I know, is really only grown and vinified there (excluding any clones or mutations, I'm looking at you gewurtztraminer!) It is used in a local wine called Vin Jaune that is reminiscent of some sherries because of the layer of 'flor' yeast that appears in production.

Often in Jura, wines are oxidative by design. It's important to differentiate oxidized wine by design and oxidized wine as a fault. Domaine de la Pinte puts their savagnin in barrels for four years and only fills said barrels 80% of the way. One might ask, what, why, who, why, what? But this production method fosters that flor yeast, and if you've ever tasted Manzanilla sherry you will have an idea of some of the aromas and flavors that appear. There is also a nuttiness, something almost saline, more apple than citrus flavors amongst other things.

This is wine oxidized by design, a layer of flor on the wine in barrel protects the wine from being destroyed and lends a host of flavors and aromas that add to the complexity. The result is a wine with great structure, longevity, focused acidity, and just a whole heaping pile of interesting flavors and aromas that would only be lost if I tried to explain them. Sometimes I don't even think it's worth it to try and convey some of these sensory experiences when all I want to say is, "holy crap this wine is good!"

This is another one of those extra-traditional wines that really show that ol' genius of place. It takes a skillful hand to make a wine like this, and I say this because we've had it open in the kegerator at the store where we've been going back and revisiting it every day to see how it develops; this is day 4 and it's still fantastic. I think day three may have been the best, but even that's up for debate.

Their chardonnay is very good too, classic Jura style chardonnay, but it's a 2010 release. I don't want to diminish the chard, but next to the savagnin, few wines stand up. The chardonnay too was in barrel, mind you very old barrels, for 2 years before release, but it didn't see as much (if any) of the flor that the savagnin did. The flavors are more apple with hints of spice and a super focused vein of acidity that would be awesome with anything in a mushroom cream sauce.

Considering they're $35 for the savagnin and $25 for the chard, these are some fantastic wines that could be cellared for years and I think are a downright steal compared to some other wines on the market. Just one man's opinion... on how freakin' cool Jura (Jurassian, Jurassic, Juranese?) wines are.