The Alphabet Soup Project: P is for Pinot Noir

When I started filling this space with words, the cultural touchstone for wine was a 2004 indie-film-that-blew-up called Sideways. The events of the film surround a wine tasting bachelor trip through Santa Barbara County’s Pinot Noir country. Sideways hasn’t held up as a film terribly well, but the movie had a large economic impact.

According to a 2017 NPR report, since the release of the film, US production of Pinot Noir has increased by 170%, while total grape production has only increased by 7-8%. (Merlot’s sales also took a significant hit for awhile, due to a main character’s disdain for “fcking merlot.”)

I enjoy few red varietals more than Pinot Noir. Pinot Noir, by nature, yields a light-bodied wine with delicate yet full aromatics. The flavors most associated with pinot are cherries, berries, backed with smokiness. Pinot is not usually terribly tannic, and it’s fairly acidic, which makes it a perfect food wine, pairing with anything from salmon to duck to big stews like beef bourguignon. Pinot also takes on many characteristics of the soil, so terroir is a major factor in the wine’s flavor.

Pinot Noir is a tricky grape to grow, which can make it pricey. Pinot vines grow best in cool climates, have low yields, and a thin skin, which can make it susceptible to damage from quick temperature changes, mildew, fungus, and sunburn. All these factors pop up on the pricetag, sending many vino-newbies to the next aisle.

Many winemakers blend Pinot Noir with less expensive juice to stretch their supply at the expense of quality. For the sake of this column, I tried to stick to wines made from 100% Pinot Noir.

 

France’s Burgundy region is the world’s best known locale for Pinot Noir. If you see a red wine from Burgundy (“Bourgogne” to the locals…), it’s going to be 100% Pinot Noir. Burgundy’s Pinot Noirs are consistently considered some of the finest wines in the world and many are built for long aging and super complex flavors.

That’s not our consideration here. The wine I chose, Louis Jadot 2015 Bourgogne, will give you the general idea of what Pinot Noir from that part of the world tastes like, at the sacrifice of some complexity. One common difference between Pinots from France and elsewhere in the world is an earthy undertone – the “Old World Funk.” This wine has just a hint of that earthiness to go with its berry and smoke flavors. This would be best considered a “starter Burgundy,” and you can snag this for $15-17, so you might get your bearings on the region with this one.

If you flew due west from Burgundy, you’ll eventually land in Oregon’s Willamette Valley, home to some of my favorite wines. The richer, fruitier California Pinots traditionally lead the market for domestic Pinot Noir, but I think Oregon provides better value and flavor for my Pinot dollar. Oregon pinots tend towards a sultry fruitiness and smokiness.

I’ve written about Locations Wines previously. Winemaker Dave Phinney tries to create wines that he feels reflect the basic characteristics of a region. His Oregon Pinot Noir sources grapes from across the Willamette Valley. I certainly thought it was a decent reflection of the basic flavors of Oregon Pinot – but with the volume turned up. The cherry, smoke, and tannin involved here were all much more pronounced than I find in many Oregon wines, which tend to be somewhat subtler. Still, at $18, a decent value, and a decent regional intro.

Finally, New Zealand, known for many years as a Sauvignon Blanc hotspot, has been filling its barrels with Pinot since the mid 1990’s. You might sense a theme, but the EnZedd growing regions’ map coordinates are a mirror in south latitudes what you’ll find Oregon and France’s growing areas in the northern hemisphere. New Zealand pinots tend to be some of the lighter-styled versions, drawing accolades for fruity complexity.

The inexpensive one I tried was Oyster Bay 2015 Marlborough Pinot Noir ($13-15). I found it to be much lighter than the other two. The initial flavors are light and fruity, with the smokiness comes out after a little bit of time. Cherry, raspberry, and cola are the main flavors. The finish is lightly fruity. Quire delicate, and honestly, I didn’t think it was all that interesting. It’s better with a light type of food pairing, like trout with veggies.

Two final thoughts. First, as a rule, plan to spend $20+ on a bottle of Pinot Noir. There’s a big leap in quality right around that price point. Second, since Pinot has such complex flavors, decant the wine at least a half hour before drinking to let the complexity open up. Or, at the very least, dump the bottle into a pitcher and pour it back, which is my usual “speed decanting” method.

Enjoy!

In Time for the Holidays -- The Naked Vine Guide to Champagne and Sparkling Wine

Champagne. Sparkling wine. Spumante. Bubbly. It’s that time of year.

Dom Perignon, the monk who popularized the concept of carbonated wine apocryphally stated, “Come quickly, I am drinking the stars!” upon opening a bottle in the wine caves of his monastery, and generations thereafter have shared that particular sensation, especially around this time of the year, when the loud pop of a cork accompanies celebrations large and small.

As party season cranks up, you might get called on by your friends to “pick up some Champagne” for your next soiree. The word “Champagne” is, for all intents and purposes for most people, a stand in term for all sparkling wine – much like “Coke” in the South translates as “any kind of soda/pop.”

“Champagne,” remember, is not a grape varietal or type of wine. It’s the region of Northern France where this style of wine originated, and where the most famous and most expensive versions of this sparkling wine -- like Veuve Cliquot, Moet & Chandon, and the aforementioned Dom Perignon -- are produced. If you go to the wine store and ask for “Champagne,” you might get steered over to this rack, where you’ll be staring at a bunch of French names and pricetags starting at forty or fifty bucks.

“Waitaminit!” you say. “I’ve seen Korbel Champagne in the store! Isn’t that Champagne?” Nope. It’s sparkling wine made in California that was labeled for years as “Champagne” as a marketing ploy. In 2006, a trade agreement outlawed labeling US wines as “Champagne” unless they’d been using that as a traditional trademark – but they were required to relabel their wines as “California Champagne.” Sparkling wine that’s not from Champagne, whether from California or elsewhere, is now generally labeled “sparkling wine.”

Getting back to the French stuff, and getting down to brass tacks – in all honesty, Champagne can be a real ripoff. Yes, Champagne is wonderful. I’ve had the opportunity to try a few high-end champagnes, and they’re delightful. They’re flavorful and sensuous…and completely overpriced for my semi-educated palate. I say this since, if you’re reading this, I’m guessing you’re likely not going to be doing vertical tastings of high enders like Krug or Pol Roger anytime soon. Still, why are these wines so damned expensive?

Simply put? Brand loyalty.

We pay a premium for these wines because of the name on the label – no different from buying clothes, cars, or headphones. In some cases, the quality of actual Champagnes might be slightly higher than other sparkling wines, but at 11:59 on December 31^st, are you really thinking about doing a Parker-esque pull-apart of the various flavors? I thought not. If you’re opening vintage Champagne at midnight on New Year’s, you’re either showin’ off, or you’re at a ritzier party than I’m ever getting invited to.

That said, there’s nothing quite like the ritual of cracking open a bottle of celebratory bubbly. Good news! Consumption of sparkling wine has increased sharply in the first half of this decade. (We must be in a collective mood to get down!) Because of this increased demand, there are many options to allow you to have a good experience while still maintaining a grip on your fiscal sanity.

A couple of quick things to consider about buying sparkling wine. Unlike most reds and whites, many sparkling wines do not have vintage dates, as they’re often made from blends of wines from different years to produce a consistent product. Vintage wines often command higher prices, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re better.

Also, remember that the wine’s sweetness level is on the label. The traditional French nomenclature for sparkling wine is more or less the standard. The ones you’re likely to see are, from sweetest to driest: Doux (sweet) → Demi-Sec (semi-dry) → Sec (Dry) → Extra Dry → Brut. Yep. Brut is “drier than dry.” There are actually another two, even drier, levels -- Extra Brut and Brut Nature, but you’re unlikely to come across those.

What you will come across, however, are plenty of alternatives to higher-end stuff. Here are a few that you’ll be able to find without too much trouble:

Crémant – We’ll start in France. Crémant (pronounced cray-mahn) has come to refer to French sparkling wine produced outside the Champagne region. Most Crémant is produced with the same methode Champenoise process that Champagne is, often with the same grapes. The big difference? These are more “everyday” French sparkling wines, and usually can be had for between ten and twenty bucks. The best known will be labeled Crémant d’Alsace, Crémant de Bourgogne, Crémant de Loire, and Crémant de Jura. All of these make excellent alternatives if you’re trying to look classy by putting a bottle of French sparkling wine on the table at your next party. Are they as high quality as high-end Champagne? No. Is that quality difference worth $50 or more? You be the judge.

Cava – Over to Spain. Cava is my go-to inexpensive sparkling wine. This sparkler, produced in the area around Barcelona. The name “Cava” stems from the caves in which these wines were originally stored and aged. These wines are also produced in the same method as Champagne. I find most Cava to be crisper and somewhat more acidic than the creamy gentle bubbles in the French versions. The extra acidity, in my opinion, is what makes Cava perfect for tapas – allowing it to go alongside almost any kind of food. Cava is also quite inexpensive. For a typical bottle of Cava, if you’re spending more than $15, you’re overpaying.

Prosecco & Moscato – The Italian sparkling entries. Prosecco is the more “traditional” version of sparkling wine – and you’ll typically find it nestled next to the Cava in your local wine store. I find it to be fruitier and slightly sweeter than other sparkling wines, which I think makes it a better option for an early evening palate cleanser or morning-after mimosas than for cracking at the end of the year, but your mileage may vary. Moscato, whose popularity boomed in the early 2000’s, is a sweet, peachy, low-alcohol sparkling wine that – as a wine-savvy friend once put it – “you could drink for breakfast.” Produced in both sparkling and still versions, Moscato is a favorite of brunch aficionados and high school shoplifters everywhere.

United States Sparkling Wine – While some more expensive versions of “California Champagne” are decent (for instance, President Obama celebrated his inauguration with a special version of Korbel Natural), in general, they’re best used for christening boats or hosing down your friends after winning the sports contest of your choice. That said, there’s no shortage of high quality bubbly within our own borders. In my experience, the highest quality stuff comes from Northern California, and can be every bit as expensive as its French counterparts. However, there are many of these California products you’ll find in the $15-20 range that are very serviceable for any occasion. Oregon, Washington, and New Mexico are producing very good sparklers at bargain prices.

Bottom line – unless you’re really wed to the idea of having “traditional” Champagne for whatever your occasion may be, you’ll have good luck finding alternatives that won’t break your bank. So snag some bottles and pop your corks. You deserve it.

A French Four-Pack for the Freezin' Season

It’s cold and dreary. The sun barely peeks out – and when it does, it’s not much of a help warming things up. These are richer food days, my friends. For me, richer food calls for wine with a backbone of earth – and that leads me instinctively to one place – France.

My French wine palate perks up in the winter, because these wines go so nicely with foods that have some heft to them. Butter, mushrooms, rich meats and root veggies – French wine is a lovely accompaniment to those sorts of flavors, generally.

(Now, I admit – I do try to cook in at least a reasonably healthy manner. It’s not beef bourguignon every night of the week, and what I and the SPinC consider rich these days might be a bit of a stretch. But we feel like it’s rich – so there.)

The good folks at Bourgeois Family Selections – one of my favorite importers of reasonably-priced French wine – recently sent along a four pack of their latest offerings. Bourgeois does a good job finding solid biodynamic and sustainable wines. We knocked the chill off our bones and cracked these over the period of a week or so. Here’s what we found:

Domaine des Gerbeaux 2012 “Le Clos” Macon-Solutre – Macon-Solutre is an area in Southern Burgundy. You may have seen “Macon-Villages” – which is a Chardonnay made from particular areas within the Macon region. Solutre is one of those areas. The specific name of a village on a wine usually connotes a higher quality of juice, and this was no exception. This wine reminded me of lemon custard – rich and citrusy on the nose and body, but the finish leans out into a grapefruity, minerally denoument that becomes more pronounced as it gets some air. There’s a hint of smokiness, as well – even though this is an unoaked wine. I liked this quite a bit. You should find it for around $17-20.

Chateau Les Ancres 2010 Bordeaux – Bordeaux, especially most value-priced Bordeaux, tends to be made with a backbone of merlot. This one is no exception – it’s about 2/3 Merlot, with the rest mostly Cabernet Sauvignon. There’s 2% Cabernet Franc to round it out. This wine really needs decanting – since at first sip, there’s very little flavor. Have patience with this one. It started with a light flavor of blackberry and cocoa, widened out across the midpalate with some nice smoke and earth, and then landed with a tannic bag of hammers on the back of my tongue. Once it opens up, there’s a surprising richness to it. With stews, superb, especially for $11-13. And it goes better with chocolate than many Bordeaux.

Chateau La Faviere 2009 Bordeaux Superieur – “Bordeaux Superieur” is a wine sourced from grapes grown anywhere in Bordeaux, but the process of the winemaking is a little different. The reds with that moniker have somewhat higher alcohol contents, are aged a little longer, and tend to be a littlemore complex than standard Bordeaux. This wine, however, I didn’t get a chance to write many notes on. The SPinC and I opened this before a dinner of roasted chicken in a tarragon and butter sauce, and it was a splendid accompaniment. So splendid, in fact, that we got to talking and laughing – and the next thing we knew, we’d killed off the prettily embossed bottle. Take that for what it’s worth. I’d snag this again for around $15.

Domaine de Chateaumar 2012 “Cuvee Bastien” Cotes-du-Rhone – I’ll admit to looking a little askance at the name of this wine. Cotes-du-Rhone are generally blends, known as cuvees – usually made up largely of varying amounts of Syrah and Grenache. This wine, however, is 100% Grenache – so I assume it’s Grenache from a number of different vineyards. I enjoyed the difference. This is a somewhat lighter-styled Cotes-du-Rhone which I can imagine flexibly working with almost any food pairing. Nice plum and berry flavors with enough weight and structure to be interesting. We had this alongside a pecan-crusted trout with sautéed cabbage with a cream sauce, and it worked quite nicely. Again, recommended at $13-15.

Stay warm out there! 

A Super Basic Primer on French Red Wine

I had the good fortune of leading another wine tasting last week focusing on French reds. While it’s pretty impractical (and nearly impossible) to run the gamut of French wine in a single tasting, a “’round the country” on the basics is possible. I didn’t have a map of France handy at the tasting as a visual aid in this circumnavigation, so I went with a geometric example.

France looks roughly like a pentagon pointed upwards. (Work with me here.) Almost all the French red wine you’ll commonly see comes from one of five regions. To get a sense of where these regions are, if you travel clockwise around this shape with the tip of the pentagon at 12:00, Burgundy is at 3 o’clock. Almost in a straight line south from 4-5 are Beaujolais and the Rhone Valley. Continuing around, Bordeaux is at around 8 o’clock and the Loire Valley runs inward from the coast at around 10.

[In case you’re interested, Paris is straight south of high noon, Champagne is at around 1 o’clock, Alsace is at 2, and Provence and the Languedoc run along the south coast from 5-6. Armagnac clocks in at 7 and Cognac is at 9. Put all this together and you have what sounds like a perfectly reasonable drinking schedule.]

Let’s rock around the clock, shall we?

Burgundy – We’ll start with my favorite of the five. Burgundy is easy to understand. If you see a bottle of red Burgundy, there’s a 99% chance that you’re looking at a bottle of Pinot Noir. Yes, there are a couple of other types of red grapes grown in Burgundy. Much like Jerry Lewis movie marathons, you usually won’t see wines made from them outside France’s borders. Good Burgundy curls sensually around your palate. Sipping away a bottle of this light bodied deliciousness is an evening’s pleasure. In my experience, no wine changes and develops more once the bottle opens. With well-prepared food ranging from meaty fish to almost any kind of beef or pork, Burgundy is an absolute champ. When a special occasion meal rolls around, you’ll almost always find Burgundy on my table.

The only downside to this fabulous wine? It’s pricey. It is very rare to find a decent bottle of Burgundy for under $20, honestly. The one for the tasting, the Domaine Jean-Luc Dubois 2008 Chorey-Les-Beaune, checked in at around $24. As an entry to the world of good Burgundy, though, it’s worth every penny. Deliciously balanced and soft cherry, pepper, earth, and smoke in every sip. If you can’t find that particular bottle, try almost any in your price range from anywhere near the town of Beaune. (as in Chorey-Les-Beaune, above.)

Beaujolais – If Burgundy is slow, languorous, and sensual, Beaujolais is a quickie on the kitchen floor. Maybe it’s not quite as romantic, but there is joy in being straightforward, fun, and a little sloppy. Beaujolais is made from the Gamay grape, which yields light-bodied, food-friendly wines that tend to lack the delicacy of Burgundy. These wines tend to be more acidic and “fruit forward.” Beaujolais are produced in a slightly different style. Rather than picking grapes, crushing them, and fermenting the juice, winemakers put the grapes in a tank, add yeast, and allow the grapes to crush themselves as they ferment. This process is called carbonic maceration. Also, while Burgundy can age for decades, you’re not going to impress anyone by pulling out 1999 Beaujolais. These are wines to enjoy within 3-4 years of bottling. You can pair Beaujolais with just about anything short of a big steak or a rich stew, and you can guiltlessly open one and knock it back, as it’s relatively low in alcohol.  You can usually find higher-end Beaujolais, called Beaujolais cru (the name of its town will be on the label) for $12-20. A good starter Beaujolais is the Louis Jadot 2010 Beaujolais-Villages, which is a small step down in quality and is usually around $10.

Rhone Valley – The wines get a little heavier as we move south into the Rhone Valley. As you learn wines, you might see a wine referred to as “masculine” or “feminine.” Preferences for human gender pressed against your lips notwithstanding, this phrase usually refers to the general style of flavor. Feminine wines are usually lighter bodied and delicate. (Burgundy is the quintessential example.) Rhone wines are more “masculine.” Masculine wines have more “in your face” flavors, be it the fruit, the tannin, the bouquet, etc. Rhone wines are almost universally blends. Some 21 different grapes end up in Rhone wines – but the majority of the ones you’ll usually find will be largely comprised of Grenache and Syrah.

Rhone wine flavors are all over the map, but there’s usually a plummy or dark berry fruit, some fairly strong earthy scents, and medium tannin. The most famous Rhone wines are from the area called Chateauneuf-de-Pape. They command fairly high prices (like the one we poured – the Cuvee Papale 2009 C-d-P at $36). I normally stick to the ones labeled “Cotes-du-Rhone,” which can be similar blends – but just aren’t from that particular locale. I use Cotes-du-Rhone as a pairing for earthy dishes, stews, and dark chocolate. You can find very decent Cotes-du-Rhone (similar wines are Cotes-du-Luberon, Cotes-du-Ventoux, and Gigondas) for $12-15.

Bordeaux – Returning to our masculine/feminine comparison – Bordeaux is the masculine yang to Burgundy’s feminine yin. Bordeaux alone produces almost as much wine each year as the entire state of California. Known as claret in Great Britain, Bordeaux is a blended wine usually comprised largely of cabernet sauvignon and merlot. (Other grapes allowed are cabernet franc, petit verdot, and malbec -- the latter two usually in very small quantities.) If you’re looking at Bordeaux in your wine store, ask whether a bottle is “left bank” or “right bank.” This refers to the side of the Garonne river on which the vines are planted. Left bank wines are predominantly cabernet sauvignon, while the right bank wines are majority merlot.

The flavor profile of Bordeaux usually centers on currants and blackberries. There’s usually a floral or “vegetal” scent in the bouquet as well as leather and earth. Bordeaux is a classic pairing with beef, pork, and lamb roasts as well as strong cheeses. Bordeaux does have a pricing issue. There’s a classification system for Bordeaux set up in 1865 that rewarded certain producers, thus cranking up the price for “” Bordeaux, such as Chateau Latour or Chateau Lafite Rothschild. However, wines grown less than a quarter mile from the vineyards producing the most expensive bottles in the world can sometimes be had for a tenth the price. The one we poured was the Chateau Briot 2009, which you can get for $10.

Loire Valley – Finally, we work our way around to the Loire, home of some of the more interesting reds in France. The Loire is best known for whites such as Muscadet and Sancerre. The Loire has one of the coolest climates for wine growing in France. In many vintages, the grapes don’t ripen fully. To combat this, winemakers in Loire can add sugar to their fermenters (a practice called chapitalization, which is illegal in most of the rest of the country) to “make up” for some of the unripeness. Loire reds are exclusively cabernet franc. You may have to hunt for  them a bit, as they’re relatively uncommon. If you see “Chinon” on a bottle, that’s a Loire red. These reds tend to be medium bodied and almost always have an undertone of minerals – described as a “graphite” flavor. Raspberry is the fruit flavor most commonly associated here.

Loire reds also often have what wine critics refer to as “brett.” Brett is short for Brettanomyces, a strain of yeast that, unchecked, will give a wine a horrid odor. A little bit, however, adds a scent of smoke (or sometimes bacon) to the bouquet. The one we poured – the Catherine & Pierre Breton 2009 “Trinch!” (French for the sound of two wine glasses clinking) certainly had a bacony nose, and the flavor was quite nice. ($19) Loire reds are polarizing. People usually either really like them or can’t stand them. I’m in the former category, thankfully.

Jeff's Wine & Dinner of the Month Club: The Last Hurrah!

Editor's Note: It is with a heavy heart that I present the last entry of Jeff's Wine & Dinner of the Month Club. What started as a birthday present for his lovely wife, Christine the Pie Queen, turned into a two-year labor of love for the Vine. Many thanks from the bottom of my Vinous heart for his well-written, love-driven, good-eatin' entries. 

Jeff, if you didn't live across the alley, I'd sure miss you...

****************

This is the final entry for the Wine and Dinner of the Month Club.  I started this as a present for my wife – a paired wine dinner cooked by me each month.  It’s been very well received and I plan on continuing to prepare the meals each month for Christine, but I won’t be blogging about them.  Thanks to all my readers and enjoy this month’s entry.  With the exception of the Coq Au Vin, for which I provide a link, the recipes come from The America’s Test Kitchen Family Cookbook, Third Edition © 2010 by The Editors at America’s Test Kitchen.  January is also Christine’s birthday month, so I added an extra dessert wine as a special treat.

Menu
French Onion Soup

Slow Cooker Coq Au Vin

German Chocolate Cake

Wine

2008 Gerard Raphet Burgundy

2008 d’Arenberg The Nobel Wrinkled Riesling

I woke up early on the day I was preparing the dinner and started the Coq Au Vin.  This entailed browning the chicken and layering it over the chopped vegetables in the slow cooker.  I set the cooker on low and went about my day.  Don’t be surprised if the recipe seems oversized.  The chicken and vegetables cook down considerably and while I thought we were going to be eating leftovers for days, we actually had just enough for the two of us with a little for one serving left over.

Later in the day I started the French onion soup.  I cut the recipe to one quarter what was called for and it came out to be the perfect amount for two.  I simply cut up the onions and sautéed them in a sauce pan.  The recipe calls for using a Dutch oven, but we don’t have one so I improvised with the saucepan and it worked just fine.  Once the onions are dark and sticky (about 30 minutes) you add beef and chicken stock and some other ingredients and let it simmer.  In the meantime I baked a baguette and cut it into some slices to top the soup.  When the soup was ready, I dished it into our new soup bowls (given to us by Christine’s parents for Christmas) and floated the bread slices on top.  These I topped with some shredded Gouda cheese and put into the oven until the cheese melted.  The recipe called for Swiss cheese, but we had Gouda in the refrigerator so, again, I improvised.  The soup was hearty with a smoky flavor and was excellent with the Burgundy.

After the soup course, I dished up the Coq Au Vin.  This dish can be served over rice or couscous, but I didn’t think it needed anything added to it, particularly since we had already had the soup course.  However, I did serve it with the rest of the baguette.  After being in the slow cooker all day, the chicken literally fell apart, so it made sense to eat it more like a stew (thank goodness Christine’s parents gave us four soup bowls for Christmas).  Like the soup, the Coq Au Vin was hearty with deep rich flavors that went very well with the Burgundy.  Even novices like Christine and me can appreciate wine pairings.  A light white wine would have been swallowed up by the rich flavors of either the soup or the Coq Au Vin.

Finally, we had dessert.  Christine’s favorite cake is German chocolate, and it’s become a tradition for me to make it every year for her birthday in January.  I paired with the d’Arenberg Noble Wrinkled Riesling.  The wine was a very sweet dessert wine but not cloying.  The cake, while being sweet, is made with semi-sweet chocolate so it is not overly sweet.  I actually think this helped it pair well with the wine.  If the cake had been too sweet, I think it would have been a little overwhelming given the sweetness of the wine.

And now, a word from Christine the Pie Queen:  

I have thoroughly enjoyed my two years of wine-paired meals that have been amazing (ribs!), fun (WV debauchery and KY neighbor brunch!), at times strange (jell-o!), fattening (four cheese lasagna!) and just plain wonderful, cooked and served with love by my hubby. Thank you Jeff!

How does one motivate their partner to start cooking?  What is my secret, sly recipe?  Well, I did it with a little help from a friend of mine at The Naked Vine.  Mike had been the inspiration for Jeff to start brewing beer and making hard apple cider (both of which he does extremely well) and so, I said to Mike, “Now, how can we get Jeff more interested on the food side?”  I do the majority of the cooking around the house and just wanted to share that “joy” with Jeff.  Along comes my birthday and Jeff decides to buy me 12 bottles of wine for the next year.  He goes to Mike for wine suggestions and *BOOM* Mike sees his opportunity and suggests pairing each of those wines with a home-cooked meal…the rest now documented in pixels.  Quite a success story!  Thank you Mike!

And thank you, Jeff and Christine! Cheers!

Wine and Dinner of the Month Club – November 2010

[For your Thanksgiving dining pleasure, here’s the latest entry from the Naked Vine’s intrepid contributor Jeff. We here wish you and yours a wonderful holiday!]

This month’s dinner features a very nice French pinot noir combined with lamb skewers. There were a couple hiccups along the way, but we enjoyed the results. This is another dish I’m sure we’ll revisit and, if you do it right, it’s pretty easy. Most of the work can be done the day before.

Menu

• Roasted Garlic on Crackers with Cranberry Citrus Martinis
• Grilled Lamb Skewers with Garlic Yogurt Sauce
• Baked Eggplant with Feta Cheese
• Vanilla Poached Pears

Wine

• 2007 Mongeard-Magneret Bourgogne Pinot Noir

I hadn’t actually planned an appetizer, but Christine had gone to Findlay Market in the morning and picked up a roasted garlic bulb at the farmer’s market. You simply squeeze the soft garlic out of the cloves onto crackers for a tasty bite. Add in a little creamy cheese and you have a simple, but delicious first course. I dug around in the liquor cabinet and whipped up a quick and tasty cocktail – citrus vodka, triple sec, and cranberry juice cocktail martini.

Next I started the main course. I was doing fine, until I got to the part about marinating the lamb overnight. Hmmm, wish I had remembered that beforehand. As it turns out, you can put the lamb in a sealed plastic bag with the marinade and massage the meat to force the marinade into it and speed up the process. It turned out fine, but an overnight soak would undoubtedly have made the flavor more intense. The garlic yogurt was simply plain yogurt with garlic and mint folded into it. You want to make this a few hours ahead so the yogurt can take up the flavor of the garlic. This step could also be done the day beforehand. For the eggplant, I cut it into thick slabs, brushed on some olive oil and baked at 350 degrees for about 20 minutes, sprinkling feta cheese over the top for the last five minutes. The lamb cubes were taken out of the marinade and skewered with onion pieces and cooked on the grill. I cooked them for about four minutes, turned them once and then cooked them for four more minutes, and they turned out perfect. I also cooked up some rice for a side and placed the skewers on them for serving. We had already opened the wine and I poured fresh glasses for dinner.

For dessert I made poached pears. They were supposed to soak in a hot liquid until soft, soaking up all the flavors of the liquid. It was pretty simple to make the poaching liquid, but I apparently had the wrong types of pears, which didn’t soften adequately. For the record, use either bosc or Anjou pears, not bartlett. It took a long time for them to cook adequately and they were still a little on the crisp side. They were tasty, nonetheless.

So, there were a few kinks in the evening, but all in all the food turned out great. And once again, the wine was delicious and I would certainly recommend it.

The Alphabet Soup Project – “D” is for “Decant”

How many times have you heard or read something to this effect in a wine description:

“Make sure you open the bottle and let it breathe for an hour or so before you drink it.”

Astute Vine readers probably remember that very recommendation from me in this space.

Guess what? Anyone who tells you something like this (including myself, admittedly) is more or less full of it as it applies to most bottles. Honestly, if you crack a bottle and let it sit for awhile, any difference in flavor – at least initially – is going to be largely psychosomatic…like most tasting notes. When someone tells you that a wine has a “strawberry nose,” you’ll unconsciously sniff for strawberries.

Same deal with letting a wine breathe. When you’re told that a wine tastes better after you uncork it for the hour, you’ll usually believe it. We think there should be a difference after a wine “breathes.” There is…if you actually let the wine breathe correctly. Correctly letting a wine breathe usually involves decanting.

Decanting wine is all about physics. Think about why we swirl wine – since alcohol evaporates on contact with air, bringing those wonderful aromatics to our nose so we get flavor. The more surface area gets exposed to air, the more aromatic a wine will become. Some wines also develop a sulfury smell or a sweatsock stink after being in bottle for awhile. Exposing the wine to air allows some of those scents to dissipate a bit. Simply opening a bottle and letting it stand only allows a tiny bit of the wine’s surface to contact the air. Using a decanter provides much more oxygen exposure, which causes the wine to “open” more quickly and effectively.

So, what is a decanter? In a nutshell, it’s simply any container into which you can carefully pour (usually) an entire bottle to expose more of the wine’s surface area to oxygen. Decanters come in all shapes, sizes, and styles, ranging from very simple to curvy, twisty shapes that make for better art than function. I mean, if you’re feeling vampiric…

But, honestly, I prefer something like this:

I can’t remember where we came up with this, honestly. I think it may have been a bottle of white zinfandel once upon a time that I bought for sangria, and we’ve used it as a flower vase ever since. It’s a perfect size – comfortably fits an entire bottle, easy to pour from, and I don’t have to worry about being clumsy with crystal. You can also use a water pitcher. Works fine. In a real pinch, just pour the glasses early and put them somewhere that they won’t be disturbed.

How to decant wine? Easy. Open the bottle, then pour the contents into the decanter slowly and reasonably gently. I use the pouring method long-perfected by any knowledgeable sophomore at a keg party – tilt the decanter and pour down the side. While you don’t have to worry about your wine foaming up everywhere, cabernet sauvignon stains don’t come out as easily as Natty Light. After you’ve poured your wine, just set the decanter down somewhere for 20 minutes or so (longer for certain wines) – and go to town. Now, if you want to show off the bottle itself, you can pour the wine into a decanter, let it sit, and then pour it back into the bottle. Use a funnel! (Another side benefit of decanting -- it’s an opportunity to get any sediment out of your wine – especially unfiltered wine. Wine sediment usually doesn’t have any effect on the taste, but “gritty” isn’t a sensation I want when I’m quaffing.)

During the afternoon & evening of the Sweet Partner in Crime’s recent birthday, we did a little experiment with a few bottles. We opened each bottle and tasted it immediately. Then we decanted, let the wine sit for a bit, then sampled it again. We used the following bottles:

• Domaine Bachelet-Monnot 2007 Bourgogne Blanc
• Saintsbury 2004 Carneros Pinot Noir
• Tenimenti Fontanafredda “La Villa” 2000 Barolo

First up, the white Burgundy. I don’t usually decant white wines since they’re made to be drunk young. As a rule, the younger a wine’s made to drink, the less good you’re going to do by decanting. Most of these wines, however, are built to last and we thought it would be interesting to see the contrast. At first taste, the “typical” white Burgundy profile came out – fairly crisp and minerally in a lean style with plenty of citrus. After decanting, new flavors emerged. Peach and pear popped up, as did a mild oakiness that really pointed up the lemony flavors. Made a good wine that much better. I decided to do a “day of small plates” and started off with some smoked salmon and crackers. The oakiness worked well with the smoked flavors and the acidity cut through the oils nicely.

I picked up the Saintsbury on a “vintage clearout” sale – it’s typically around $35. This vintage was getting towards the end of its “recommended peak,” and it was pretty straightahead pinot at first taste. I certainly got the “smoked cherry” flavors you’ll get from most pinot, but it didn’t seem overly complex. When you have a wine that’s getting near the end of its peak, decanting will allow you to wring all of the flavor you can from the wine. With the Saintsbury, after a little decantation, revelation. The nose picked up a caramel twist and the body added some yummy ginger and raspberry flavors. The smokiness was enhanced at the end. This went from a solid, everyday pinot to something more supple and sexy. I made a little “seared sashimi” with it. I read it was a good pairing, and I can stand and tell you to three decimal points that it’s heavenly.

Finally, the Barolo. Now, Barolo is a special case. These powerful Italian wines from the Piedmont are so tannic on bottling that they usually need a minimum of 8-10 years in bottle before the bitter edge has softened enough to drink. Tannic wines almost always improve with decanting. (The same applies to young California cabernets and the like.) This Barolo was a great deal from Garagiste Wines – even so, it was still around $45. When first opened, the light color of this wine belied the power within. At first sip, though, it was tannic but not overly so and fairly easy drinking. I might have even confused it with a Chianti. The recommended decant time for Barolo is at least a couple of hours, so I set it aside and got to work on my special birthday eggplant parmesan. When I served it up and poured the wine – a transformation. The wine “woke up.” That’s about as well as I can explain it. Everything was more powerful. The tannins were stronger, the plummy, somewhat tarry flavors were pronounced, and the wonderful complexity showed up. It went delightfully with the parmesan. Actually, the post-decanting version was too strong in the opinion of the SPinC. She said that she liked it better before decanting, actually. As I’ve said, everyone’s palate is different.

So, when should you decant? Almost anytime you can, really. Unless a wine is a bargain-line wine, you’re probably going to see a marked improvement in flavor and complexity after you decant a wine for a bit. In a pinch, you can use an aerator. These work well for most wines – but for something that needs more time in air (older European wines or younger American wines in general), you’re still going to be better off finding something to pour the wine into for awhile.

La soirée française paresseuse

[Rough translation: The slothful French evening]

Like just about every other foodie we know, the Sweet Partner in Crime and I went to see the now-ubiquitous "Julie & Julia." We enjoyed the movie quite a bit, especially the parts about Julia Child's background. Afterwards, we promptly rented some old The French Chef DVD's from Netflix and snagged a copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking.

[Side note: I read the book on our honeymoon and discovered that most of the "Julia parts" were additions when the screenplay was adapted...and that Julie was hardly the cute little junebug Amy Adams portrayed. Still, both the book and movie portray the ultimate fantasy for bloggers...getting "discovered," garnering a huge following, and getting our words read widely.]

So, with this experience in our heads, we decided to do a French-themed New Year's Eve. (If you're not familiar with our little tradition, see here, here, and here.) Unfortunately, some family health issues called the SPinC out of town for the couple of days where we ordinarily did our prep. I figured she'd be exhausted when she got home and wouldn't be in any semblance of mental space to want to cook -- but I sure as shootin' wanted to keep our ritual rolling. So, the SPinC's worst nightmare came to pass -- Mike alone in the kitchen for an extended period of time. This usually leads to a good percentage of the household's pots and pans being used at least once, a few sauce and oil splatters in hard-to-reach places, and a somewhat stickier floor than when she left.

I did my best to keep things tidy. Really I did.

Here was the menu for the afternoon & evening:

• Course #1 -- Potato & Leek Soup; Chateau Riviere-Lacoste 2006 Bordeaux Blanc
• Course #2 -- Steamed King Crab Legs; Domaine Chanson 2007 Chablis
• Course #3 -- Boeuf Bourguignon; Moray St. Denis 2004 Bourgogne
• Course #4 -- Cherry Clafoutis; Piper-Heidsieck Brut Rose Sauvage

Courses #1 and 3 were from Julia Child's book. Steamed crab is pretty straightforward, and the clafoutis was a recipe I poked around the Internets to discover. Now, so you don't think that we're even more shamelessly gluttonous than we clearly are -- our little "meal" took place over the course of an afternoon and evening. We got the party rolling around 2, once the SPinC had a chance to get home, go for a run to clear her head, and get into appropriate loungewear for the day.

I never knew much about leeks for most of my life. I'm addicted to the bloomin' things now. I put them in as many recipes as I can find for them. This soup, classically French, has such a remarkable flavor -- which is amazing because it's really just leeks, potatoes, water, salt, pepper, some butter, and parsley. But it's SO good. I feared the white Bordeaux might be too light for a soup like this one, but the acidity and minerality made a lovely balance.

A couple of hours later, we moved on to the crab legs. I'd initially thought about doing a lobster for this course, but neither of us really felt like committing arthropodicide on New Year's. We let someone else do the dirty work for us and stuck to king crab, which was plenty rich and tasty enough for us. A little drawn butter alongside, we cracked the Chablis which we snagged at the dinner at the Phoenix a few months ago. Chablis & shellfish is a heaven-sent pairing, and we certainly were not disappointed.

A job well done...

We gave ourselves some digestion time as we listened to some jazz and then watched Duke's utter detonation of the Penn Quakers as an interlude. During the second half, I put the Bourguignon on to simmer itself to proper warmth. By game's end, we were ready to go. I'd opened the Moray a few hours before to let it breathe. We dished it up and headed to the table. Now, I'll admit -- I was a little bit skeptical of the recipe. I wondered why you just wouldn't throw everything in a slow cooker and turn it loose. After all, it's just beef stew, right?

Wrong. There's something about the way that the flavors from the various steps of cooking marry that you end up with waves of flavors coming at you from any number of directions. Throw in the smoky loveliness of a very very good pinot noir, and it's a pretty magical dining experience.

Admittedly, I did tweak the recipe a bit -- basically amping up the various levels of spice. For instance, the original recipe calls for 1 tablespoon of salt for the entire dish. Only a dash? Balderdash. I also had some new potatoes, which I quartered and added, rather than doing boiled potatoes on the side.]

In a nod to our advancing ages, we ended up admittedly taking a nap at this point to get ourselves up until midnight. We made it in time to crack open the Champagne and dig into the clafoutis.

Now, I'd not even attempted a dessert like that (pies and pastries are the SPinC's bailiwick) -- and if I were to do it again, I'd probably have used a slightly larger baking dish -- just so it would have cooked a little more quickly, but I was pretty pleased with the result. We used cherries from our year's harvest from the tree in the backyard, and they overwhelmed the subtlety in the Champagne (a rosé Champagne at that) -- so we finished the two up separately before clinking glasses at midnight and smiling at another New Year's well done.

The Alphabet Soup Project -- "A"

When you write a column like this one, it's easy to fall into a rut. Therefore, interspersed among my normal columns, I've decided to initiate the Alphabet Soup Project -- where I wander letter by letter...and see what we come up with.

So, to begin: A is for...alternatives.

I like to break out of the usual mold of around-the-house varietals from time to time just to see what else is out there, especially when it comes to Italian wines, since they grow so many varietals that aren't really seen commonly on this side of the Pond -- or really anywhere else, for that matter. Those crazy Italians grow something in the neighborhood of 500 varietals of grapes that can be pressed and fermented.

I broke out of my normal Sangiovese/Montepulciano/Barbera-heavy rotation of Italian reds with the Di Majo Norante 2005 Contado Molise Aglianico. In case you didn't notice, the actual grape in that lengthy title is "Aglianico." Aglianico is a varietal largely cultivated in southern Italy. It's a high-tannin, high-acid wine that usually needs a few years in bottle before it's really drinkable. I'd read that this was an exceptional pairing for pasta puttanesca, so I made a version that included some broccoli and caramelized onions. Thought I don't think of broccoli as particularly wine-friendly, this was really nice. The high acidity made it perfect for an meal like this full of spices and cheese. The acidity worked well as a palate cleanser and to bring out the bright cherry fruit that this wine has to offer. It was a little lighter than many of these wines, being similar weight to many straight Chiantis, but with considerably more structure and without the bite many of them carry. It was right around $15.

Along the same line, I wanted a drinkable Italian white for an afternoon and was looking for something pinot-grigio-ish. I landed on the Valdinera 2006 Roero Arneis. Arneis is a varietal grown in the Piedmont region, known most famously for Nebbiolo-based wines Barolo & Barbaresco and for Asti spumante. This fragrant medium-bodied white actually reminds me a great deal of Viognier. The nose is quite perfumey with plenty of melon and cider. It's medium bodied with a bit of an oily consistency that gives way to a nice amount of minerality. The finish is dry and slightly alkaline. By itself, nice enough to sip on -- but we opened on a Saturday afternoon where we'd put together a little "antipasti" for ourselves -- hard cheese, salami, and crackers -- it performed really nicely, with more fruit coming out as we worked through the food. Again, around $15.

I can have this sort of fun in France, as well. I was under the impression that all white Burgundy is made from Chardonnay. I was wrong. Danny Gold threw me the Domaine Chêne 2007 Macôn-Villages -- which is made 100% from a varietal called Aligote. Aligote is planted largely in Eastern Europe, but also makes an appearance in a few white Burgundies. It's typically lighter and more acidic, and is the traditional base for the cocktail called kir. Unlike many Macon-Villages, which are some of the oakier whites in Burgundy, this one is a crisp quaffer. The nose is lemons and minerals. It's a bit slow to start, flavorwise, but a little time and warmth reveal pleasant melon and lemon waiting for you. The finish is slightly tart and quite flinty. The minerality made it a nice pairing with spinach salad. Spinach has that chalky texture which makes it a notorious wine-killer. This wine mellowed the chalkiness, but had enough character not to get swallowed by the mushrooms and bacon. Interesting, and solid value from $12-15.

Burgundy, Domaine Chanson & The Phoenix

I’m going to relive the Phoenix’s recent wine dinner -- not just so you all get to hear about how perfectly cooked the lamb was, how fresh the vegetables tasted, or what absolutely splendid pairings got rolled out for us during the course of the evening.

I hadn’t had the opportunity to try that many Burgundies at once (there were six -- three red and three white) to get a sense of the variations in flavor and style. The experience was reminiscent of this May at the Vintner Select anniversary celebration when I had the chance to plow through flights of Barolo and Barbaresco. I’ll share my observations, but I’ll back up a bit and give a little background on the region first.

As I’ve mentioned before, understanding French wine can be notoriously tricky. (I’ve barely made a dent in what I feel like I need to know, honestly.) French wines are labeled by region of origin rather than by grape; each region may have a number of subregions, each of which can have its own blend of grapes; names can be very similar; quality can vary wildly by vintage for various reasons; and so on. Burgundy is one of the easiest wine regions in France to understand. Just remember this:

Reds are made from Pinot Noir. Whites are made from Chardonnay.

That’s all you need to know to start.

(Yes, like all rules – there are exceptions. The lovely light reds from the Beaujolais subregion are made from Gamay, and there are a few places that grow a couple of places that grow a couple of other varietals, but 90+% of the time anything with "Bourgogne" on the label is from one of those two grapes.)

The Burgundy region can be roughly divided into three parts. The northern part is known as the Côte d’Or, home of many of the highest quality Burgundies. The Côte d’Or is also subdivided into two regions – Côte de Nuits and Côte de Beaune. The former is known best for reds and the latter for whites, although each region produces both.

The middle third of the region is made up of the Côte Chalonnaise and Maconnais regions. This part produces many of the more inexpensive wines in Burgundy, including many that I’ve written about in other columns. Maconnais, especially, cranks out a huge percentage of the white table wine from Burgundy. The bottom third is the Beaujolais region, which is a whole other animal, making the light reds I referred to above. If you want to know more about those wines, go here.

About 60 miles northwest of the Côte d’Or, is the Chablis region, known (of course) for whites. Chablis, much like Burgundy, has a negative connotation in the minds of many, as these names were bastardized and stolen by California winemakers in the 70's, who cranked out jug after jug of plonk. The chardonnays produced in Chablis, France are...shall we say...a bit tastier.

There’s a classification system for wines in Burgundy, based on the quality of the terroir from which the grapes originate. This differs from the individual chateau classification in Bordeaux, which doesn’t follow regional terroir differences, in general. The classifications run, in descending order: Grand Cru (named by vineyard -- can cost in the thousands per bottle); Premier Cru (sometimes written “1er cru” – and named by vineyard and village); Village (named by…well…village); Subregional (from a slightly larger area – like Macon-Villages) and Regional (simply called “Bourgogne”). Chablis has its own measures of quality, but are still termed Grand Cru, Premier Cru, and Village. There’s also a “Petit Chablis” designation, which roughly relates to subregional.

The wines we had, as you'll see later, were mostly village level, with one regional and one 1er cru thrown in.

To dinner...The Phoenix is a beautifully designed former gentleman's club built in downtown Cincinnati in 1893. (Think scotch & cigars, not pasties & poles.) The Phoenix is now largely a banquet and reception center, but manager of 19 years Kent Vandersall has a fairly steady stream of special events, wine dinners, and the like in the restaurant. If you haven't seen the interior of this place, it's worth the price of admission to one of these events just to have a look. It's quite remarkable, both from an architectural perspective and from the "Wow!" factor. Kent runs a tight operation. The service was exceptional and he made us, as first-time guests, feel quite welcome.

This event featured the wines of Domaine Chanson Pere et Fils, one of the older continually operating producers in Burgundy. They've been making wine in this region for about 250 years. (According to Sophie Baldo, Chanson's export manager, who "emceed" the tasting -- they are one of the five original houses in the region.) They own vineyards across Burgundy, but they've got a fascinating storage system for their wines. The town of Beaune, the heart of the Côte du Beaune, where the winery lives, is a walled city. The walls range from 8-12 feet thick. This allows the storage of the wine within the old walls, and Chanson does exactly that. As a result -- they own one of the world's only wine cellars in which you walk upwards from the entrance. (Seriously, I must see this someday...)

Until recently, their wines have not been widely marketed in the States, but according to Ed Hernandez, their domestic marketing manager (who we had the pleasure of swapping stories with during dinner), this is about to change markedly.

So, aside from the incredible cuisine -- what made this meal stand out so much for me? Contrast. Even though only two grapes were used in all of the wines, the flavors were all over the map. I'll take this course by course to give you an idea (and maybe make you a little jealous):

Reception: Chanson Vire-Clesse 2006 ($18-27/bottle retail) -- Kicked off the evening with...not a bang, exactly, but certainly an appetite-whetting aperitif. Vire-Clesse is a town in the Maconnais, near Pouilly-Fuisse. I loved the nose on this wine. In my experience, chardonnays aren't usually quite this floral, and I thought it smelled of strawberries. The flavor was very crisp and lightly acidic, but with a nice spice and structure. An excellent palate preparation.

First Course: Honey Lime Shrimp, Capellini w/Chanson Chablis 2007 ($20-30)-- A classic example of good Chablis. Plenty of minerality and acidity, floral and citrus scents, and a long, crisp finish that absolutely screams for pairing with something light like shellfish. The shrimp and capellini that we had with it was actually one of our favorite courses. The flavors were very delicate, and they married wonderfully with the wine's citrus.

Second Course: Arctic Char with White Beans, Mushrooms, and Dried Tomatoes w/Chanson Meursault 2006 ($45-60) -- My inexperience with white Burgundy had me unprepared for this wine. This wine had an incredible amount of strength and depth for a white. I was interested to hear from Sophie that Chanson ages their wines in older casks, so as not to overoak and obscure the flavors of the grapes. In this case, what they created was an incredibly complex, melony, slightly smoky wine that was full-bodied without feeling overly heavy. Paired up with a fish that's a cross between trout and salmon and those earthier vegetables, the wine stood up nicely and was able to handle the oil in the fish, which was prepared to perfection. Delightful.

Third Course: Rosemary Dijon Lamb Chops with Swiss Chard w/Chanson Bourgogne Pinot Noir 2006 -- This wine was the first of the reds. This is a regional-level wine, made from select grapes grown all across the Côte d'Or. It was a very "refreshing" red wine. Quite fruit forward, but with some very nice spice on the back end that made it very interesting. On its own, an excellent wine, but with the tiny lamb chops seasoned and roasted to a pinnacle of flavor, it made a wonderful compliment for the fairly delicate but numerous flavors of the lamb. In my opinion, as this is such an incredibly flexible wine, this was probably the best value of the night at $18-22 a bottle.

Fourth Course: Veal Marengo, Creamed Whipped Parsnips w/Chanson Beaune Clos des Mouches 1er Cru 2006 -- The showstopper. I tasted this wine and my eyes literally rolled back in my head. I'd never tasted a pinot noir this good, and I've tasted very few wines of this quality, period. (I can only imagine the state in which a grand cru might have left me. Descriptions might violate some blue laws.) Powerful, yet delicate, this wine wrapped my palate in layer after layer of smoke, spices, cherries, and other flavors that I couldn't even identify. Incredible balance. But tasting notes don't do this wine justice. The world got quiet when I tasted this wine. Alas, this was the one food pairing of the evening that didn't quite work for me. The richness of the veal stew that it was paired with overwhelmed all of the delicate flavor in the wine. I ended up drinking less than half the glass and putting the rest aside for later. The SPinC did not, but managed to sweet talk her way into another glass so she could do a side-by-side with the next course. This wine is only starting to become available in the states, and will set you back around $90. And yes, I bought a bottle to lay up for awhile. Even at this price, it was irresistible. It's apparently fine to age for 20-25 years, so this joins the "target date" wines in our cellar.

Fifth Course: Filet of Beef, Carrots Parisienne, Pinot Noir Demi w/Chanson Gevrey-Chambertin 2005 ($40-60) -- Of the grand cru pinot noir vineyards in the Côte d'Or, 24 of the 25 are in the Côte de Nuits. Tasting this back to back with the Clos des Mouches gave me a wonderful sense of the difference between the wines from the two parts of the Côte d'Or. The Côte de Beaune reds, as I learned, are traditionally much more delicate than the Côte de Nuits. The Gevrey-Chambertin was a lovely illustration of the power of the Côte de Nuits. This was a much more powerful wine. Lots of licorice and vanilla on the flavors, and a much deeper level of fruit, along with a great deal of tannin for a pinot noir. It's understandable why this wine would be set up next to a filet. I think this was the first time I'd had a pinot paired with a steak, and this one certainly had the heft to make a side dish, especially with the fabulous demiglace drizzled across the filet and carrots. While I preferred that pairing, the SPinC actually preferred the Clos des Mouches. Since the filet was roasted instead of grilled, she thought that the meat was delicate and light (or as delicate and light as beef can be) enough to stand up to the filet.

Sixth course: Fruit and Truffles. Exactly what it sounds like. Handmade chocolate yummies and some berries to nosh on while we finished the last of our wonderful wine, chatted a bit more, and eventually made our way out with smiles on our faces. For the record, the Gevrey-Chambertin went much better with the chocolate and dark fruits.

I'd definitely recommend checking out some of the special events at the Phoenix if you're looking for a good way to spend an evening. Many thanks to Ed, Sophie, and Stacey Meyer from Heidelberg Distributing for organizing the meal, to Kent for a wonderfully designed meal to complement these wonderful wines, and to the winemakers at Chanson for a slice of bliss.

Springtime in (the general vicinity of) Paris

Spring's my favorite season.

Watching the world come back to life after the long, cold winter is a personal favorite pastime. In addition to this wine thing, I also have learned to garden a little bit along the way, and watching the tulips come popping out of the ground always give me a sense of accomplishment.

Springtime means we get to be outside again. We get to bask on porches, in parks, on roofs, wherever. I feel a rush of energy and thankfulness when the sun is finally warm on my face again. Here in Vine-land, this winter seemed harder than many. Just seemed to be cold forever, despite our relative lack of snow (until the ten inches we got the first week of March).

Springtime also means we start turning away a bit from the big, bold tannic reds that help fight off the winter chill. It starts to make sense to crack lighter-styled wines again. (Unless you're my uncle Alan who drinks Amarone in the furnace of midsummer.)

The French figured this out a long time ago. Since they've got a wine for any occasion as is, it makes sense to me to look Gaul-ward to celebrate the springing of spring. Admittedly, most of these wines aren't produced within a couple hundred miles of the City of Lights, but work with me, people. Just close your eyes and imagine that you're sitting on a bench in the Jardin de Luxembourg with a baguette, some meat and cheese, and one of these bottles (which, in Paris, you could probably get for less than you paid for the baguette…).

Verget 2004 Bourgogne -- I'm a big fan of Verget wines. For the price and the ease of carrying (since they're all, to my knowledge, Stelvined), you can't beat them. Jean-Marie Guffens, by all accounts, doesn't adhere to many of the "traditional" French winemaking rules, instead finding grapes from all over France to concoct very solid offerings. This white Burgundy (chardonnay) is a very refreshing wine. The nose is apples and flowers, with an undertone of yeast, indicating that the wine has "laid on the lees" (WineSpeak for "sitting on the yeast after fermentation is done") for some time. The flavor is crisply fruity and slightly creamy from the yeast. There's no oak here whatsoever, and the finish is a little acidic. Delicious just to drink on its own, but soars when paired with roast chicken or any kind of lighter soup. $10-12.

Domaine Guindon Coteaux D'Ancenis 2006 Gamay Rosé -- This wine is made from the same grape as Beaujolais. I'd never had a Gamay as a rosé before, so I was curious. This Gamay comes from the Loire valley rather than its traditional home in Burgundy. It turns out to be a very fruity, medium-bodied rose. Nose of raspberries and a little bit of a floral scent. Flavor is berry and cherry with a nice, balanced acidity and some mineral flavors. The finish is clean but not extraordinarily sharp. There's nothing complicated about this wine and it's not as acidic as I've found many of rosés to be. It's simply an extremely pleasant patio or picnic wine -- a great pairing with cheeses and cold meats. $10-12

La Noble 2005 Chardonnay -- Not a true white Burgundy, since it's from the south of France, but it's definitely put together in that tradition. There's no oak to this wine whatsoever, going instead as a crisp, clean sipper. The wine has a somewhat appley nose. The taste is classic French chardonnay -- a little sour apple, a little citrus, and a little mineral coupling with a medium body. The finish is minerally and very dry. Another great choice for a picnic, since it'll pair with just about anything that you can pack in a basket. An excellent choice with shellfish or chicken, also. I've found this regularly for $8-9 -- simply a great value for a wine like this.

Georges DeBoeuf 2006 Morgon Cru du Beaujolais -- I would have preferred to do a pinot noir based wine here, but I couldn't find a Burgundy for $15 or less. George DeBoeuf has enough of my money as it is with my Beaujolais fetish, so what's one more bottle, right? If I had to find a Beaujolais to stand in for an inexpensive pinot, this one will work. I've shied away from GDB wines for ahile, since they seem to have such a corner on the market these days. I think they've started to realize that they can't just put out generic plonk anymore and have started taking a little more care, especially with their "cru" wines. DeBoeuf makes these in a bigger, fruitier style than my summertime staple Beaujolais-Villages. The nose is full of cherry and vanilla. The body is slightly fuller than "regular" Beaujolais, but considerably more complex. Nice balance of fruit and acidity with a little bit of oak at the end. The finish is fruity and pleasant. You could have this with a spicy Thai meal or chicken parmesan. Or just have it on its own as a porch wine. For $11-13, a solid offering.

Enjoy the sunshine…finally!

Wine School! (Class #6 -- Chardonnay)

Chardonnay, the ubiquitous white.

Chardonnay is the United States' most popular wine -- and perhaps the most popular in the world, but I haven't been able to run down the exact ranking. (If anyone has a reference, send it along!) Walk into almost any neighborhood bar or five-star restaurant anywhere in the country. Nine times out of 10, the "house white" will be a Chardonnay.

The history of Chardonnay is somewhat unclear, but there is a town of the same name in Mâcon in the Burgundy region of France. A group of monks in Chardonnay were the first to cultivate the grape for "mass production and distribution." Today, almost any white from Burgundy will be almost entirely produced from the Chardonnay grape.

Chardonnay is an incredibly versatile grape that grows almost in any soil and in any climate. While it's a hardy, flexible grape -- the flavor changes radically depending on its terroir. Chardonnays from cooler climates tend to be crisper and tarter, while warmer climes produce fruitier, creamier styles.

To keep things simple, you can expect to run into three basic flavor profiles of Chardonnay: minerally, oaky, and buttery. Here's an illustration of each:

Louis Jadot 2005 Mâcon-Villages (France) -- $9-11
Alamos 2005 Chardonnay (Argentina) -- $9-11
Kendall-Jackson 2005 Vintner's Reserve Chardonnay (California) -- $12-14

First up is the crisp taste of the Louis Jadot. In French wine nomenclature, the best wines are named after their particular chateau or town where the vineyard is planted. Pouilly-Fuissé is known as the home of the best white Burgundies. The name actually refers to two towns, between which lie the vineyards. These wines tend to run $25 and up. However, "Mâcon-Villages" means that the grapes can be from anywhere in Mâcon -- the region in which Pouilly and Fuissé are located. For my money, a Mâcon-Villages is every bit as good at less than half the cost.

This wine has a very light nose -- citrusy and light, with a little scent of something like licorice. The taste is very clean and a little tart, like green apples. The finish is very crisp and pleasant. This is a classic French Chardonnay, which tastes almost more like Sauvignon Blanc than Chardonnays from other places in the world. It's extremely refreshing and light.

Next, we'll let the Argentinean Chardonnay give us the "oak" profile. Over the last several years, Argentina has become known for Malbec on the red side, and Chardonnay on the white. As with much of South America, you can find great wine values from there without trying too hard.

The Alamos starts with a nose of ripe peaches, but the taste shifts radically. As crisp and light as the French version is, this one is much bigger. The flavor is of peaches, toasted almonds, and smoke. You can't miss the oak here. You'll know exactly from here on out what someone's talking about when they mention oaky. The finish is smoky and lasts a long time.

Finally, bring in the butter. California chardonnays almost became parodies of themselves through much of the 90's, as the winemakers went completely overboard with "oaking" their wines. They've settled down a bit, and the "buttery" Chardonnay is becoming more common among California wines. As I mentioned in Lesson #2, the "buttery" flavor is from a process called malolactic fermentation. Some California winemakers are swinging to the other end of the spectrum and producing "unoaked" Chardonnays -- their attempts to get back to the Burgundy tradition.

The Kendall-Jackson smells sweeter and heavier than the Alamos, much more like peach cobbler than peaches. The flavor has a little bit of sweetness and some more of that peach flavor, but it's got a very creamy vanilla taste as well. Again, in comparison to the Alamos -- the oakier wine had a stronger flavor, but the buttery one was richer and fuller. There was a little bit of oak on the finish, held in check by the creaminess.

What to eat with these? If I were drinking one on its own, I'd go with the Louis Jadot. I'd also have this with just about any kind of lighter fish or shellfish dish. An oaky chardonnay will pair more effectively with something smokier, like grilled chicken or veggies, or even a filet if you want white with a steak. The buttery chardonnay -- predictably, goes more effectively with creamier sauces, richer fishes, and almost anything you can picture with butter.

We made a rich fish dish when we did our tasting. The Sweet Partner in Crime liked the Kendall-Jackson, although I thought the Alamos made an interesting pairing. So, in short, experiment and find what you like. There's a Chardonnay out there for almost everyone.

Next up, we dare return to big red territory -- Syrah.

Class dismissed.

Wine School! (Class #3 -- Pinot Noir)

Pinot Noir, the elegant grape.

The pleasure of learning about wine expands when you start to explore the differences that exist between wines made from the same grape. It's easy to tell a Pinot Noir from a Syrah, but learning how pinots themselves differ gives you the opportunity to find something you really like and to find the perfect wine for the right occasion, food, evening, gathering, person, etc.

We'll start with regional differences. The area in which a wine's grapes are grown is known as its terroir. (Pronounced tare-WAHR) Literally translated as "soil" in French, a wine's terroir changes the taste of a wine dramatically. Wines made in similar styles with identical grapes can taste radically different, even if those grapes are grown on adjacent plots of land. I find wine tastings of wines from a single growing region fascinating because of those differences.

However, we're not splitting flavors that fine here. Wines from a certain region tend to take on a certain character, and that character can often be food-driven. I've found that winemakers create wines to accompany their home's cuisine and lifestyle. If a regional diet includes a lot of earthy-tasting food, the wines will be earthy tasting. Lighter traditional menus will almost always yield lighter wines, and so on.

I think the best way to learn about a wine is to try several versions of the same grape. With that in mind, here are three markedly different pinots to pour side by side by side:

Tortoise Creek 2005 Pinot Noir -- The French may be slow to change, but they do know which way the wind blows. Over the last couple of decades, international demand for French wine has declined. While some blame American animosity towards France in the wake of 9/11, I believe that there's a simpler economic explanation: French wines are more expensive, difficult to unravel, and almost impossible for a beginner to grasp.

If you look at most bottles of French wine, the name of the grape is nowhere to be found. The French name their wines by region: Burgundy, Bordeaux, Sancerre, Chablis, etc. You'll typically see the name of the chateau where the wine is made, the region, the year -- and that's about it. I had a hard time initially with French wine because I didn't realize, for example, that most red Burgundy is actually pinot noir. (This is not to be confused with jug "Burgundy" of Gallo fame.) There's also white Burgundy, which bears no resemblance to white Zinfandel.

Anyway, the French wised up. While there is still an abundance of traditional French wines, some growers committed the heresy of putting the name of the grape on the label and marketing wines to…well…regular barbaric wine lovers like us. Tortoise Creek (which sounds like it should be from Australia, no?) is an example of one of these "Americanized" pinots.

This wine greets you with a nose of chocolate covered cherries. The flavor is extremely light with a little cherry fruit flavor and a somewhat chalky body. The finish is much drier than many pinot noirs that I've had. Interestingly, this wine reminded me more of Chianti (another wine named after a region) than a French wine. This wine would definitely be better with food. It would be excellent with any roasted or baked fish, or pasta in lighter red sauces. At $8-10, this is an excellent value.

Bogle 2004 Russian River Pinot Noir -- The Russian River valley in Sonoma is better known for bolder wines like Zinfandel and Cabernet Sauvignon, but there are some very decent pinots tucked away among the bolder grapes. You'll get a wonderful terroir contrast here. French pinot noirs tend to be extremely light and slightly acidic, while wines from California tend to reflect the boldness of those wines. They're generally fuller and fruitier.

The Bogle is no exception. The nose is much stronger, with berry flavors jumping right out at you. The flavor is rich with a very round body. You might taste cherries and raspberries. The finish is dry, but much less acidic than the French version. I found this to be the most drinkable of the three wines. Since it's slightly heavier, it would go well with chicken, lighter meats, and pretty much any kind of red sauce short of one with sausage. $12-14 for a very nice wine.

Cono Sur 2005 Pinot Noir -- California, Oregon, and France may be best known for pinot, but some other places are trying with mixed success to break into the market. Chile, one of the current leaders in value wine, has started to produce pinot, including this entry from Cono Sur. These are surprisingly decent wines for the price, and you get the chance to be the "Cono Sur" at any gathering.

Cono Sur is the lightest of the three pinots in color but not flavor. The nose is slightly fruity and has a scent of earth. The flavor is certainly the most acidic of the three and a bit smoky. The finish is dry and slightly tannic -- unexpected in a pinot. This wine is the least "pinot" tasting to me. It's really neither fish nor fowl (although it would pair with both). It's supposed to be "new world styled," but it tasted more "Old World" -- meaning that the more earthy character stood out. I'd probably pair it with light gamey foods -- duck, for instance. Lamb or something along those lines would also work. It's worth trying for the difference, if nothing else. $9-11.

I think you get the idea -- while a rose is a rose is a rose, a pinot ain't a pinot ain't a pinot. The variance of a single grape among regions, styles, and flavors will keep you fascinated for years. Just don't blame me if it becomes an expensive habit. Just remember, home equity loans are not meant for stocking a wine cellar.

Next up is Sauvignon Blanc -- class dismissed…