Kin & Cascadia -- Thinking about "Regional" wines

As I mentioned in the recent Chianti column, the naming convention surrounding most European wines revolves around the region, subregion, or -- in some cases -- the very patch of ground on which the grapes are grown. While this convention is helpful for delineating how a wine is a reflection of terroir -- the combination of soil, climate, weather, and history that go into a particular wine, it's often less helpful if you're...say...looking for a bottle of cabernet sauvignon.

Here in the States, by contrast, we tend to name our wines primarily by the main grape in the bottle. If at least 75% of the juice is made from, say, Merlot -- then the bottle can read "Merlot." The identity of the grapes on the rest of the blend can be disclosed or not, depending on the winery's desire.

Wine's about a sense of place, though. A Chardonnay from southern California will taste very different from one grown in..say...Missouri. Even more applicable, a Cabernet Sauvignon from California's. Napa Valley will taste very different from a Cabernet Sauvignon grown by the coast in neighboring Sonoma County.

To establish a sense of place, in 1978, the federal government developed a system by which a wine's location could be classified. Winegrowing regions were classified by climate and topography into American Viticultural Areas, or AVA's for short. For a wine to claim a particular AVA, such as "Anderson Valley" or "Yamhill-Carlton" -- 85% of the grapes must be sourced from that particular area. A particular AVA, such as "Napa Valley" can contain multiple sub-AVA's -- like "Los Carneros" or "St. Helena." But the broader-based "regional blends" are one way to get a sense of how terroir shapes a wine in a particular area -- so you can see if you like it.

This brings us to this edition's wines, a Cabernet Sauvignon and a Pinot Noir from Kin & Cascadia -- an oenological partnership between the Sager and Master families in the Pacific Northwest. The two wines that I had the opportunity to try boast their roots from particular AVAs.

To start with -- the Kin & Cascadia 2017 Cabernet Sauvignon (~$16). The wine is listed as being from "Columbia Valley, Washington." The Columbia Valley AVA is a very large area, shared between Oregon and Washington. Within the Columbia Valley AVA are seven subregions, one of which is the Wahluke Slope AVA -- from where a good portion, but not quite 85% of the grapes come.

I tend to like Washington State cabernets. I think they're generally a little less alcohol-driven and more subtle with their fruits than their brethren in California. The Kin & Cascadia is relatively decent. It's a drinkable Cabernet -- with coffee and black cherry flavors being the dominant flavors. Unfortunately, there's little else to note flavorwise. The finish has a somewhat sharp tannic quality, even after an hour of air, that I didn't find personally pleasant. I thought it was decent enough alongside a steak or a rich stew, but I didn't think it was overly interesting itself.

The Kin & Cascadia 2017 Pinot Noir (~$14) is a different story. This Pinot sources its grapes from the Willamette (rhymes with "Dammit!") Valley, the best known and largest of the Oregon AVA's. Now, I love me some Oregon Pinot -- and I've had enough of it to be able to somewhat ascertain the difference between the various sub-AVA's within the Willamette. The grapes here are likely from a variety of places around the Valley, and that's not a bad thing. Sometimes, especially with wines at this price point, finding the right grape sources makes for a tasty blend.

That's the case here. This particular blend of Pinot grapes yielded a lighter-styled but still quite interesting Pinot. Strawberry and cherry flavors go alongside a nicely floral nose, a solidly smoky, fruity midpalate, and a lingering, softly smoky finish. For a Pinot Noir at this price point, it's a pretty impressive offering. I think it's an incredibly good value at this price point, especially for fans of lower-alcohol Pinots. I also thought it was better with a steak than the Cab, to be perfectly honest.

Learning about different AVA's gives you an opportunity to fine-tune the sorts of wines you'll tend to enjoy, even if you might not recognize a certain producer. Think it an AVA as a high-level overview of what you should expect.

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!

Canned Rosé – A Naked Vine Examination

The contenders...

A couple of our neighbors recently invited The Sweet Partner in Crime and I out on their boat for some fun in the sun out on the Mighty Ohio. I brought along some beer for myself, but the SPinC prefers rosé for her day drinking.

Bottles of wine pose their own unique portability issues, so on my load-up trip to Big Wine Store, I ambled by the “bulk” section to see if there were suitable containers. That’s when I discovered that the powers-that-be have gifted us with rosé…in easy-to-boat-with aluminum cans.

I’ve covered the idea of wine-in-a-can in this space before. My initial experience with Underwood Pinot Noir led me to purchase a couple of cans of their rosé for our trip. But I noticed that there were several other companies joining the canned wine – and specifically canned rosé – movement. And judging from the state of the shelves, it seems like these are becoming more popular options.

As a note, there’s nothing inherently wrong with a can as a storage system for wine…at least for wine that’s designed to be drunk in a casual manner. Wine cans are lined, like beer cans are, to avoid direct contact with aluminum and juice. That said, I’d suggest pouring the wine into a cup or glass. Drinking wine (or beer, for that matter) straight from a can eliminates much of the flavor, because there’s no olfactory component other than “can lid.” While this “no smell” effect might be useful for your summertime case of PBR or Beast Light, it defeats the purpose for wine or craft beers. Pour, dammit!

A few thoughts on these metal-clad pinks, starting with good ol’ Underwood:

Underwood 2016 Rosé Wine – When I first wrote about Union Wine Company’s Underwood wine in a can, they were still rolling out their pinot grigio to go alongside their pinot noir. But we’re here to talk about the rosé. Their can clocks in at 12% ABV and is produced from a proprietary blend of Pinot Gris, Pinot Noir, Riesling, Muscat, Chardonnay, and Syrah. The tasting notes printed on the can read “Strawberry. Watermelon. Peach.” – which is pretty much exactly what you’ll get. There’s a fair amount of body to this wine, which is straightforwardly fruity all the way through. It’s easy enough to drink without thinking and made for a perfectly suitable quaff while we were out on the water.

Underwood now produces five different canned wines – the three I’ve previously mentioned, along with two carbonated wines: “Bubbles” and “Rosé Bubbles.” They’ve also rolled out a “Riesling Radler” – a carbonated wine cooler made from of Riesling and grapefruit juice that sits at around 6% ABV, the same range as an IPA.

Essentially Geared Wine Company (NV) Rosé Wine – “Seek the Everyday Uncommon” is Essentially Geared’s slogan. The website clearly caters to folks who are outdoorsy, on the go folks, and the can design was the most interesting, in my opinion, of the wines we tried here. It’s made from 100% Pinot Noir from Napa and suggests pairing with “Pizza by the slice, barbecue brisket, and falafel” – which sounds like an interesting evening’s menu.

Unfortunately, the wine itself wasn’t as interesting. In the words of the Sweet Partner in Crime, the experience of this wine was “Pink. Wet. Gone.” Honestly, it didn’t feel all that much like drinking wine. There was an initial burst of watermelon and strawberry to let you know “Hey! You’re drinking rosé,” then a little alcohol and “wine-ish” taste, and not much of a finish. The note on the can said, “Think: Pink Starburst and 80’s Punk Rock,” but I didn’t get a lot of Clash, Misfits, or Buzzcocks here.

Essentially Geared also produces a California Chardonnay and a California Red made from Merlot, Zinfandel, and Cabernet Sauvignon.

Alloy Wine Works 2016 Central Coast “Everyday Rosé” – Another California entry, but in a larger format. Most canned wine that I’ve seen comes in a 375ml can – so the equivalent of a half-bottle. Alloy’s rosé (a product of Field Recordings winery) comes in a 500ml can, so think of a tallboy next to a standard beer can.

There’s a French rosé called La Vielle Ferme which I’ve reviewed here many times. It’s basically my “house” rosé – a simple, relatively light, minerally-but-fruity pink bottle of goodness. I expected more of a California thump from a wine in a big can, but I was pleasantly surprised to find a lighter-styled, very French, pinkness therein. Their tasting note is “Tastes like: strawberry, grapefruit, mint and guava, Sour Patch Kids, and rose petals.” I don’t think it’s quite that complex, but it does have strawberry and citrus with a refreshing minerality on the finish that I liked quite a bit. It was quite reminiscent of good ol’ LVF, and I certainly recommend it among the three here – for value and for flavor.

Alloy also produces a Pinot Noir, Chardonnay, a red blend they call “Fiction,” and a dry-hopped sparkling chardonnay made from ale yeast called “Weissland.”

All of the above wines run around $5-7 per can. Costing that out for bottle price comparisons, that equates about $10-15 a bottle, depending on the can size.

While these are marketed as “everyday” wines – I likely wouldn’t stock my fridge with them on a regular basis. However, a bottle of wine runs about 2-3 lbs, while two cans are about a pound and a half, and are much less likely to shatter if you happen to drop your backpack. As long as you’re not looking for high-end juice, these will be just fine for you in the wild.

Underwood Wine in a Can: Pinkies Down, Thumbs...

Would you drink wine from a can? Should you?

Wine in a can? Sure. Let's do this!

Our neighbor, Christine the Pie Queen, relayed the results of a bit of work-related research performed by her loving hubby Jeff, both of whom you may remember from several write-ups over the years (including the ever-popular “Jeff’s Dinner Club” series). Jeff had uncovered a series of videos produced by Union Wine Company in Oregon for their Underwood Pinot Noir.

These videos, presented with the hashtag #pinkiesdown, are humorous takes on the overblown, overwritten world of wine reviews. The “sommelier,” “hipster wine bro,” and “sweater around neck guy” humorously hit your humble reviewer far too close to home with lines like “You know, I’m getting some strong notes of Axl Rose and a hint of heirloom purple carrots…” (Look for “Union Wine Company” on YouTube if you want to see. 15 solid minutes of chuckles.)

The videos are support for Underwood’s…yes, it’s true…wine in a can. Can-as-delivery-system is an interesting idea to be sure, just from hiking and poolside possibilities alone! The operatively begged question, of course, is “Is the damned stuff any good?”

As I usually do when there are oenological curiosities like this, I hit up the PR contact for Underwood to ask for review samples. Most companies are pretty good about sending along tasters for me to try. Underwood, however, informed me that press samples were not available “due to high demand.” In my mind, that either meant that they’re moving so much volume that they don’t need reviews to generate interest – or perhaps they don’t want reviewers looking too closely. Or maybe they just don’t have any to spare.

Undeterred, I popped down to Big Wine Store and made a couple of selections. I picked up two cans of Underwood Pinot Noir for ~$6 apiece. Each can is 375ml, slightly larger than a typical beer can. A standard wine bottle is 750ml, so each Underwood can is equivalent to a half-bottle or “split.” (Part of Jeff’s work, which includes occasional international espionage, consists of enforcing standards on alcohol labels.)

For science, I also snagged a bottle of Underwood 2013 Pinot Noir ($13), and a bottle of King’s Ridge 2013 Oregon Pinot Noir ($19), which is a higher end bottling from Union. (They also do an even more expensive one called “Alchemist” at $28, which wasn’t available.)

The Sweet Partner in Crime and I invited Jeff and Christine to Vine HQ for a “scientific comparison” of the various Union Wine offerings. To establish a “cross-inexpensive-vino” comparison, we also poured some Bota Box Pinot Noir because, well, it was cheap and we had it around. We took up our places around the living room and began to carefully pour, swirl, and…oh, who am I kidding? We commenced to pounding pinot whilst taking notes.

We started with the cans, of course. The unmistakeable “pffft” of opening aluminum proceeded pours all around. (We did our best to emulate the various characters from the videos as we tried the stuff.) Our first impression – this wine ain’t bad! It’s not the rich, earthy Oregon pinot that I can get all William Burroughs about (as in “If God made anything better, he kept it for himself…”), but the basic flavors certainly are along the lines of a solid, inexpensive Oregon wine. 

The can label helpfully suggests: “Notes: Raspberry, Cherry, Chocolate.” The actual flavors are pretty much along those lines. For wine that you can schlep in a cooler or backpack and slap a koozy on, it’s quite decent. For a picnic or other outdoor activity where glass isn’t practical, I’d consider it certainly workable. It’s also miles better wine when compared to the Bota Box, which tasted heavier, thicker, and sweeter than the Underwood.

We also had a tableful of snacks to go alongside our wine: Christine’s Caprese Skewers with homemade squeaky cheese; Jeff’s Smoky Baba Ganoush; and some dry sausage, gouda, and crackers. The wine went well enough with the entire spectrum of flavors, so it should be workable with nearly everything.

As I mentioned, we poured the wine into glasses to sample it, but I was the first of the group to step up and take a big ol’ chug straight from the can. In all honesty, I can’t recommend that particular technique. Since so much of wine’s flavor is scent, you get nothing aroma-wise when you drink it like a Coors Light, so make sure you pour it into some kind of available container – glass, mug, Solo cup, what have you – for best results.

Jeff also pointed out that its alcohol content (13%) is basically the same as Four Loko, so if you wanted to either mimic These Kids Today or pretend you’re back at a college kegger, you could #ShotgunAnUnderwood – but I wouldn’t recommend it. (However, if you’re going to try, I want video.)

Interestingly, we discovered that the canned and bottled Underwood pinots are completely different wines. The bottle’s label reads, “Notes: Cherry, Blackberry, Cola.” As I mentioned already, the Underwood in a bottle has a vintage, which means that all of the grapes were harvested the same year. The canned wine is non-vintage, meaning that it’s a blend of grapes or wines from different years. My guess is that the can wine is the “leftovers” at the end of a bottling run from a couple of subsequent vintages, but I’m not for certain. 

In any case, the bottled version of Underwood pinot is, by unanimous consent of our little foursome, a superior wine to the canned version, even though the price is basically the same. The fruit is brighter, there’s a nice smoky flavor that I liked, and there’s better balance overall. It’s very good for a $12 pinot.

We then poured some of the King’s Ridge for price point comparison purposes. The King’s Ridge, while somewhat more expensive than the Underwood, proved to be a bit of a disappointment. The flavors were darker and heavier, but that didn’t make them more interesting. In fact, when we compared the Underwoods to the King’s Ridge, which also has “Notes: Cherry, Blackberry, Cola,” we ranked them: Underwood bottle, King’s Ridge, Underwood can. In short, I wouldn’t bother with the King’s Ridge. There are better pinots out there for around $20.

Bottom line – if you’re considering taking wine to your next softball game, tailgate, or backyard hootenanny, you can safely snag some of these Underwood cans if you want to reduce the risk of ending up with shards of glass in your feet from an accidentally misthrown football. Or, if you’re hiking, it’s an excellent alternative to the traditional dinner flask of bourbon. Or maybe that’s just the Pie Queen’s tradition...

As an addendum, a few days later, the Sweet Partner in Crime and I tried a can of the Underwood Pinot Gris. Again, a decent enough white (notes: peach, grapefruit, and pear). It’s much more interesting than most inexpensive pinot grigio. I thought it had an odd yeasty scent that faded as it got some air. It’s certainly dangerously drinkable on a hot day. Underwood also is releasing a rosé, which I have not tried yet.

Bottom line – Underwood is a quality wine for any occasion where a can is your best beverage delivery option. It’s worth a try.

The End of the Bottle. The End of the Year.

I get reflective when the calendar flips to this chunk of the annum. I like it – and I think it’s healthy. It makes me appreciate how nothing happens in isolation. And how the interplay of circumstance and happenstance creates our day to day lives.

I believe it’s a natural time to do it, considering how our society looks at the calendar. We talk about the changing of the seasons, but not many folks are out there celebrating Beltaine or Saturnalia. Our collective point of annual reflection is the last week of December, culminating in the concrete marker of New Year’s, with its resolutions and promises sometimes kept.

What does a semi-professional wine reviewer reflect on during this time of year? Open a magazine, go online, or just read the rest of the issue where this column appears. You’re going to run into Best of 2013 lists, Top 10 lists, Bottom 10 lists – we love our lists. We collectively enjoy putting things into categories.

I thought about doing something like that, but I quickly realized that my own experience isn’t broad enough to put together a proper spread. I’ll leave that sort of thing to some of my other compatriots in the wine world.

When people I meet discover that I’m a wine writer, the countdown begins to the inevitable, “A wine writer? What’s your favorite kind of wine?” I’ve learned, in the spirit of Bull Durham’s Crash Davis, to have my clichés ready. “Whatever’s open!” is my usual quip.

That usually earns me a couple of weak chuckles and I can move on to other topics. Why? Because if I try to answer the question honestly, I fall to stammering. An honest definition of my favorite wine is my “one hand clapping.” It changes and slides, depending on the season, the day, even the hour. When I try to think of the best juice to cross my palate – I can’t conjure a singular image.

That doesn’t mean I can’t try. When I do, little vignettes play across my cerebral cortex of times that I’ve tried this wine or that. I can recall opening a shipping box to pull packing material from a particular wine I’ve been waiting for, or the memories of a particularly good meal that the Sweet Partner in Crime and I put together to go alongside a bottle we’d bought on one of our travels. I can sometimes close my eyes and remember the music I was listening to when I experienced a certain wine. I still, however, can’t definitively identify a favorite.

While I may never be able to come up with a singular answer to that seeming simple question, meditating on it a bit made me consider why I like wine as much as I do – and I’ve come up with an answer that, for me, is good enough:

Every glass of wine, whether from a jug of cheap plonk or a thousand-dollar bottle of Bordeaux, tells a story, and wine tells more stories than any other beverage. Wine comes from earth, air, water and sun. (And yeast.) A glass of wine communicates the soil the grapes were grown in; how they were harvested; how long ago they were bottled. There’s a direct, unadulterated line from the seed through the harvest past the winemaker to the glass. And that’s pretty astounding, if you take the time to think about it.

Other alcoholic beverages require additional work. Beer requires mashed grain. Whiskey, vodka, rum, tequila – they need to be distilled. You can brew a craft beer in any of the 50 states and it’ll taste like a craft beer. I’ve seen bourbon from New Jersey and scotch from Washington. But pinot noir won’t grow in Maine. You’re not making good sparkling wine in South Florida. Each glass of wine communicates something unique. Scent. Taste. Flavor.

I don’t have an extensive wine cellar, but there are some pretty good bottles down there. Many of those bottles came from trips that we took. There might have been something about the description of the wine that resonated with me – be it a detailed description of the terroir or just an interesting tale about how the winemaker came to follow that trade.

For instance, I have a number of bottles of pinot noir from a winery we discovered in Oregon called Libra. We tried these wines on the back deck of the home of the winemaker, Bill Hanson, at the end of a beautiful day. We swapped tales. We drank wine and watched the sunset. Is it the “best” pinot in the world? Who knows? But every time I open one of those bottles, I flash back to that deck, and it’s glorious.

In fact, the night I wrote this, I was doing dinner prep. Roasted duck breasts on sweet potato puree with wilted greens. I asked the SPinC what pinot she thought would go best. Without skipping a beat, she said, “One of the Libras.” She said later, after she read this column, that she’d pictured that moment on Bill Hanson’s deck before she made the suggestion.

Every civilization lives through its stories. Stories connect the present to the past; demonstrate place and longevity; and connect an individual to something larger. The story, the ritual -- that’s what keeps me coming back, and that’s my favorite thing about wine.

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

So as not to leave you empty handed on Christmas or New Year’s – you might need a bottle of sparkling wine before heading out this time of year. If you’re looking for a bottle under $10, you can’t go wrong with my old faithful – Freixenet Extra Dry Cava. In the black bottle. Simple, basic bubbly that’s good with just about anything, food-or-occasionwise.

If you’re thinking under $15, consider Da Luca Prosecco. This Italian sparkler was the bottle we cracked as an aperitif when my family came calling for Thanksgiving. Prosecco makes you happy, and it goes delightfully with almost any appetizer that you might want to throw down.

And if you want to spend up to $25 for a bottle to ring in 2014, I’d be hard pressed to find anything better than Mumm Napa Brut Prestige. Extremely elegant, flavorful, and appropriately celebratory. I think you’ll like it very much. If you don’t – I’ll be happy to take any unopened bottles off your hands.

And with that, The Naked Vine closes the books on 2013. Thanks for continuing our mutual wine explorations. May your year be full of good health, much happiness, and excellent times.

Later days.

Libra Wines

 

The sun’s setting on the last day of our Oregon vacation. I’m sitting on the back deck of the home of Bill Hanson with a fat glass of Libra Wines’ 2008 Momtazi Reserve. Bill, the owner and winemaker of Libra, looks out over the vineyard as sunset approaches and cracks a little smile.

“Yep. Livin’ the dream.”

Our long, twisty road from the baggage claim at PDX to Bill Hanson’s back deck began at Oregon Wines on Broadway in downtown Portland. One of the wines in their pinot flight was the Libra 2009 Willamette Valley Reserve. We absolutely loved it. Rich, perfectly balanced, and flavorful without being too heavy. We asked the fun-loving folks at OWOB if Libra had a tasting room. They said no, but indicated that they thought he showed his wines at the Carlton Winemaker’s Studio.

When our travels led us to that end of Willamette Valley, we discovered the aforementioned studio was a dead end. No Libra. They told us that he’d been working as the winemaker at Panther Creek and they sometimes poured Libra in the tasting room. We thanked them and moved on. At Panther Creek, we discovered that Bill and the higher-ups had had a parting of the ways. Thankfully, the Panther Creek pourer gave us Bill’s phone number. Which was disconnected. However, the pourer let Bill’s wife, Linda, know that we were trying to get in touch with them – and gave them our number, which we’d left at the tasting room. After a couple of phone tag calls, we were able to set up a tasting for the end of the last day we’d be there.

We made our way out into the Yamhill countryside, following directions which included, “take a hard left onto the dirt road… I’ll try to remember to leave the gate open for you,” which, thankfully, he did. We exchanged a few pleasantries before discovering that Bill and the Sweet Partner in Crime were both born in Danville, Illinois.

The ice officially broken, we made our way to the deck to enjoy a gorgeous afternoon and sip Libra’s selections. Not long after we headed outside, Linda joined us the porch, followed by their precocious smile-and-mop-of-dark curls Lily, both back from an afternoon trip to the local pool. Lily, a country music aficionado, came bearing a bowl of peanut-butter filled pretzels for noshing. She said that the best thing about waking up each morning and looking at her own vineyard is “knowing that we all did this together.”

The Libra Wines Crew -- Linda, Lily, and Bill

Bill caught the wine bug in, of all places, a community college Geography class. “[My teacher] really got me, as an 18 year old kid, fascinated with wine. When I was waiting tables at 18, I started learning about wines from all over the world, and I was just fascinated. I wrote papers comparing the climate of Oregon to the world’s other great wine regions. I was hooked. I got into it when I was 20 and I’m 49 now.”

Bill’s first job in the wine world was at Eola Hills’ Hidden Springs Winery in 1985, followed by a stint at Mendocino County’s Parducci. He decided to try the sales end of things for awhile, but the vineyard kept calling him back. He became assistant winemaker back in Oregon at Matello in 2002, then moved on to (and now away from) Panther Creek. He and Linda started Libra in 2007 and made wine from their first estate grapes in 2009. “I always wanted to live on my own vineyard and make wine,” Bill said, “And I just love being around wine people – from consumers who love wine to growers and producers. It’s a great feeling to be able to do what I love.”

Libra’s tagline is “Balanced Wines,” a hat tip to Linda’s Zodiac sign. Libra’s origin story also references the Greek goddess Persephone, who spends six months of each year in Hades’ timeshare, causing the changes in the seasons. “Bill originally had the idea for the Persephone tie in, he did a lot of research and the story really resonated with him,” said Linda, “the whole cycle of the seasons thing… the symbol of balance, and of course we all know how finicky Pinot Noir is to grow and to make.”

Bill says that he tries to craft wines as each vintage demands. “We just try not to get too crazy as far as doing ultra-low yields or overcropping. We’re more interested in flavor development than sugar development, although we hope they come together,” Bill explained. “This year, Mother Nature did a lot of our thinning for us. We don’t want too much alcohol. We just try to run with what Mother Nature gives us. We’re L.I.V.E. (low-input viticulture) certified sustainable.” Linda echoed Bill’s view: “Each of those plants are like one of his children! We do both love the land and firmly believe in only putting into the earth things that will not harm it. Even in my vegetable and flower gardens…we love the end result, a beautiful, natural product which you helped produce--your touch each step of the way had a hand in how it turns out.”

Libra's Lineup

Run with it they have. Bill started us with his Willamette Valley Pinot Gris, full of sunlight, citrus, and tropical fruit. We went from there to back-to-back tastings of his 2009 and 2010 Willamette Valley Reserve. These wines, a mixture of estate and Valley fruit, were completely different. The 2009 tasted fruitier, higher in alcohol, and (in Bill’s words), “a little slutty.” The 2010, thanks to cooler temperatures, had much more complexity. I thought it was an absolutely beautiful wine, even young.

From there, we moved on to Libra’s Umpqua Valley Tempranillo, sourced from the , and finally to his Momtazi Vineyard Reserve. The tempranillo was good stuff, full of chocolate and tobacco flavors. The Momtazi was nothing short of a rock star – smoky, sultry, and special. The most expensive wine in the Libra catalog is the Momtazi. At $35, it absolutely blew away many of the wines we tried on the trip that retailed for twice as much. After that, we retasted a few things – but we weren’t paying a lot of attention by that point. We were soaking up the sun, good conversation, and good company.

I asked Bill what it was like using his deck as a tasting room. You could hear genuine appreciation in his voice: “It’s awesome. It really helps us appreciate what we have. I mean, we are really living the dream out here, but sometimes the dream can be a lot of work! Having folks over, sharing our wines and good conversation with them – it’s fun! And it helps us remember just how much of a blessing this is.”

Bill said that his goal is to “keep it simple.” His hope is to produce more and more of the estate wines, eventually getting the production to 600-800 cases per year – in addition to doing some more vineyard specific wines like the Momtazi and Ribbon Ridge since they’re “big fans of that fruit.” He said that he’ll also keep crushing pinot gris because “you’ve always got to have some white wine around, you know?”

Libra’s a limited distribution wine, so it will likely be difficult to track down in local stores. The best way to find it is to order it straight from the source: http://www.librawines.com -- trust me, you’ll be glad you did. And if you happen to be in the Willamette Valley, give Libra a call. Bill will leave the gate open for you.

(Originally posted on October 18, 2012)

The Alphabet Soup Project -- "M" is for "Meatless" (Wine pairings for vegetarians)

Pumbaa: “Hey, kid, what's eatin' ya?”

Timon: “Nothin'. He's on top of the food chain!”

-The Lion King

Astute observers of the Vine know that I love me some meat. Well, I love most food in general, but I'm not sure that I could ever be a vegetarian. I tried removing animals from the ol' diet during a brief, dark once-upon-a-time down Florida way, but it didn't take. I've got too much of the "how do you know you don't like it if you've never even tried it" hardwired into my palate, I guess.

I try my best to include potential food pairings with my reviews – pairings which often involve some suggestion of a meat dish. I do realize not everyone shares my particular omnivorous eating pattern. There are lots of folks, like my friends opening Kitchen 452 in Cincinnati, who choose to be more kind to our web-footed friends (and their hoofed, finned, & clawed compatriots), sparing these critters a quick trip to Dinnersville.

One of the better dinner parties we've thrown here at Vine HQ involved an entirely meatless menu, so I've seen firsthand not only how much wine my vegetarian friends can throw down, but also how well vegetarian dishes go with well-paired wine.

In the interests of egalitarian dining, or if you’re considering doing some more meatless meals for health purposes or new year’s resolutions, here are some general wine recommendations to go with whatever meat substitute you’re planning to plate up for the evening.

All these recommendations should be viewed through the prism of one of the Vine’s universal truths: "People make wine to go with what they're eating.” For example, if you’re making an Italian-based recipe, Italian wine is your best bet. Tapas will work with Spanish wine. Also, if you’re making spicy curries or other Asian flavors, the classic pairings of Riesling and Gewurztraminer will likely be winners.

Tofu: The Swiss Army knife of vegetarian cooking, tofu is made by taking soy milk and adding a coagulant of some sort to curdle the milk. The resulting curds are then pressed into the blocks you see in the grocery store. The type of coagulant used determines the texture of the tofu, so combinations are often used. Acid-coagulated tofu creates softer, “silken” tofu while salts and/or  enzymes create a firmer texture.

As for what wine to pair with your tofu dish? There’s not an answer to that question. Tofu in and of itself barely has any flavor, as you probably know. It does, however, absorb the flavor of whatever else is in the pot, wok, skillet, or other cooking implement. Your wine pairing reflect the dominant flavor of the sauce. For Asian preparations, a dry Riesling or a very light red like a Beaujolais would be fine. For grilled tofu, especially if marinated, a fruity wine like a merlot would go well. For flavored tofu preparations like “soyrizo” or “tofurkey” use the corresponding pairing for the meat. I’d go with Rioja and either a pinot noir or a chardonnay, respectively, in those cases.

The same sort of pairing suggestions guide also works with tofu’s first cousin Tempeh, which is made from soybeans fermented and pressed into blocks. This has a much firmer texture and can be used for kabobs, broken up for a ground meat substitute in something like vegetarian chili, etc. It has a slightly nutty flavor, but is generally pretty neutral. 

Roasted Vegetables: When you roast almost anything, the heat causes the sugars in whatever you have in the oven to caramelize, bringing out the sweetness and deepening the flavors as the cooking process proceeds. Sweet potatoes, zucchini, squash, cauliflower, broccoli, tomatoes – you name it. Toss them in olive oil and sliding them into a 425˚ oven for an appropriate amount of time yields a scrumptious base for any number of dishes. Smoky, bright, and slightly sweet works well next to a chardonnay that’s got body and a little oakiness. California chardonnays make an excellent choice with almost any roasted vegetarian preparation, as do most white Burgundies other than Chablis. Chablis’ delicacy gets run over a bit by roasted flavors. In my kitchen, there are two major exceptions to the chardonnay rule, which are…

Eggplant and Mushrooms: Two of my favorite foods of all time. I use eggplant in any number of dishes – my favorites being eggplant parmesan where I grill the eggplant slices and a roasted eggplant and tomato dish served over couscous. Eggplant gets a very smoky, savory flavor when roasted or grilled. The chemical composition that can give eggplant a bitter flavor is actually countered nicely by tannic wine, so think big. For the Parmesan, I’ll break out a Barbera, or Super Tuscan Italian wine. For the roasted dish, I look to the Rhone region. If you’re feeling like splurging, roasted eggplant and Chateauneuf-de-Pape is a gorgeous side-by-side, but Cotes du Rhone works well, too. Young California cabernet is also a good match with almost any eggplant dish.

As for the tasty, tasty fungus – mushrooms add, unsurprisingly, an earthy flavor to any dish. On their own, whether grilled or sautéed, they’ll have a flavor that you want to keep far from almost any white wine. You want something with an earthy backbone, yet not too heavy. Either of the French “B’s” – Bordeaux or Burgundy – work well. I personally think grilled Portabella mushroom caps and an Oregon pinot is a little slice of heaven.

Quinoa – America is finally catching on to this wonderful, nutty-flavored South American grain, which is one of the best meat substitutes our there as far as nutritional content goes. Quinoa (pronounced KEE-nwah) has a complete spread of amino acids, lots of iron, and cooks faster than rice in most preparations. Often used as a side, much like brown rice would be, I find it’s also an excellent base for a Latin-flavored salad, tossed with bell peppers, black beans, lime juice, cilantro and such. The “regional” pairing works nicely here, so look for a red from South America. You can’t go wrong with either Malbec or Carmenere. And speaking of beans:

Beans, Chickpeas, and other Legumes – Ah, the musical fruit. Beans and their various cousins are also very high in protein, fiber, B-vitamins, and all sorts of other goodnesses. The basic pairing rule is “the darker the berry, the darker the juice.” White beans like cannellini and cranberry beans, as well as chickpeas, like to go next to lighter whites. Sauvignon blanc and Chablis are good choices. For lentils, peas and the like – go with dry rosé or lighter reds like Chianti and Beaujolais. With kidney beans, black beans, and other dark ones, go bold! Zinfandel and earthy French reds like Cotes du Rhone and Bandol will pair nicely.

Oregon

“If God made anything better, He kept it for Himself.”
-William S. Burroughs, Junky

The Sweet Partner in Crime and I talked for years about a vacation to Oregon. We’d always wanted to see Portland and we hoped to visit my cousin in Eugene. I wanted to return to Crater Lake to take the (spectacular!) boat ride that I’d adolescently skipped twenty years prior. And we wanted wine, of course.

Oregon, specifically the Willamette (rhymes with “Dammit!”) Valley, is known best for pinot noir. The area is nestled between the low Oregon Coastal Range mountains on the west and the tall Cascades on the east and stretches from the Columbia River on the north to just south of Eugene. The entire valley comprises about 3.3 million acres. The Willamette Valley’s temperate climate is quite friendly to those cool-weather loving grapes. (France’s Burgundy region is at the same north latitude, not surprisingly.)

The most common appellation you’ll see on a bottle of Oregon pinot is “Willamette Valley AVA.” AVA is WineSpeak for “American Viticultural Area” – the wine growing region. That designation means the grapes were grown within the valley. There are six sub-AVA’s within the larger Willamette Valley: Chehalem Mountains, Ribbon Ridge, Yamhill-Carlton, Eola-Amity Hills, Dundee Hills, and McMinnville. Each has distinct terroir.

Oregon’s fascinating topography, carved by glaciers, volcanic eruptions, wind, and water, contains wildly different soil types. The soils do fall into two major categories: marine sedimentary (which generally imparts an earthy complexity) and volcanic (which yields a fruity smokiness). Some vineyards have both soil types, often within a few hundred feet of each other.

The first pinot noir from Oregon was produced in the mid-1960’s, and Oregon became a major player in the market in the 1980’s.When Sideways kickstarted the California pinot boom in the mid-2000’s, Oregon pinot producers came along for the ride. Oregon pinot is very different from California pinot. In general, the terroir of Oregon produces a more subtle, lower-alcohol juice, which created a nice contrast for wine connoisseurs. Oregon pinot made a name for itself, and prices rose.

Alas, the mass market, fueled by our old friend Miles, demanded pinot. Inexpensive pinot from places like Chile and Australia, as well as some…shall we say…less-well-crafted-but-cheaper California offerings flooded the market. $10-15 pinot made in a big, fruit-forward style became common. Also, thanks to California’s maddeningly consistent (but beautiful) climate, a casual wine drinker usually can be fairly confident of what’s in the bottle. A 2010 wine from a particular producer in California will taste a lot like a 2009, which in turn will taste a lot like the 2008, and so on. Oregon’s climate has much more variation, so specific vintage plays a huge role in a wine’s flavor.

For a while, it was difficult to locate much Oregon pinot at local wine stores. California pinot ruled the roost of mid- to high-end domestic pinots, and Oregon’s low-key marketing approach (not to mention many fewer wineries) caused a pricing problem. A few major producers (Domaine Serene, Domaine Drouhin, Erath) were able to keep up – but a good number of the mid-sized and smaller producers had to make some major readjustments. As a result, very high quality Oregon pinot became available for about half what you’ll pay for a premier cru Burgundy.

Many Oregon wines really hit my palate’s sweet spot, particularly those from Eola-Amity, Yamhill-Carlton, and Ribbon Ridge. I thought many of these wines had similar flavor profiles as good Burgundy, but with an addition of the “brightness” that American wines tend to exhibit. The following were our faves for quality & price. Some of these may be difficult to find in your local wine stores, but they’re all well worth a few website clicks:

Witness Tree Vineyard (Eola-Amity) – The “witness tree” is an ancient white oak that marked the corner of the historical boundary of the property. A lovely location for our first stop -- with a couple of very solid choices. While the Willamette Valley is known best for pinot noir, there are a few whites spread around as well. Witness Tree produces a wonderful estate Viognier, which was the best bottle of that varietal I’ve ever tasted at $15. Their estate cuvee pinot noir, called “ChainSaw,” was a steal as well at $20. http://www.witnesstreevineyard.com

Witness Tree Vineyard's namesake

Cristom (Eola-Amity) – One can almost see the Cristom winery from the Witness Tree parking lot.They specialize in slightly higher-end pinot noir which was well-worth the extra few shekels. In honor of our beagle, Jessie Louise, we took home two bottles one each from their “Jessie” and “Louise” vineyards. More like $40 for these. I had a nice conversation with their winemaker, Steve Doerner, who said, “I’m the winemaker, but I have plenty of help – a few thousands of helpers in the vineyard and 10-to-the-sixth in the lees…” http://www.cristomwines.com/

Cristom Winery

Spindrift Cellars (Willamette Valley) – A cool, unpretentious little place we pulled into on the edge of an industrial section of Corvallis as we were on our way from Eugene to Dundee. We learned that “spindrift” is the name for the foam that rises from the top of a breaking wave. The star of the place for us was their rosé of pinot at $16 -- a perfect picnic wine with much more complexity and depth than you’ll see in many pinks. http://www.spindriftcellars.com/

 

Twelve Wine (Yamhill-Carlton). We first tasted this at a fantastic wine store in Eugene called Authentica. Twelve is run by a husband/wife duo – he an electrical engineer from Silicon Valley (who still works in high tech as a day job), she a high school counselor. We ran through their entire gamut at their tasting room in downtown McMinnville. (The vineyard is in Yamhill.) The quirky story of the wine’s name, their wicked cool labels, and their downright friendliness added to the experience. The estate pinot ($25) had a wonderful richness that played along especially nicely with the offerings from the gourmet chocolate shop with which they share a tasting room. Their currently-sold out reserve, called “144” (12-squared, get it?) was exceptional. http://twelvewine.com/
 

Patricia Green Cellars (Ribbon Ridge) – Patricia Green’s tastings are appointment only -- so we headed there semi-private late-morning tasting with eight other folks. We sampled 12 different wines from across three vintages, and two “futures” barrel tastings. The winemaker, Jim Anderson, sources grapes from many Willamette sub-AVAs, so we had an exceptionally educational experience. We experienced side-by-side the real differences between sedimentary and volcanic soil, as well as the wide variation that exists between vintages. We especially liked their “sedimentary” series, particularly the Etzel Block ($60), Ana Vineyard ($45), and their straight Estate ($30). They're also one of the few producers of sauvignon blanc ($20) in the Valley. Highly recommended on all counts. And we needed carbs for lunch immediately afterwards. http://www.patriciagreencellars.com/

Damage done at the Patricia Green Cellars tasting

Libra Wines (Yamhill-Carlton) – I’m writing a separate column on our experiences at Libra – a true vacation highlight. I’ll just say for now that Libra’s 2010 Willamette Valley Pinot Noir at $25 knocked the pants off almost anything else we tasted on the trip. Just try. It’s kickass. http://librawines.com/

If you decide to take a wine tasting tour around the Willamette Valley and you want to really pamper yourself, consider staying at the Le Puy Inn in Newberg. (http://lepuy-inn.com) Lea and Andy will take good care of you. Though there a number of top-notch restaurants in the area, make sure you have a meal at Tina’s (http://www.tinasdundee.com/), a favorite of Valley locals in Dundee. You’ll be glad you did.

Naked Vine Double Feature: A Blast from Banfi

Had the chance to attend the “yes, you really just got tenure” celebration for one Dr. Chris Sullivan not long ago. One of the partygoers was his neighbor John, who is affiliated with Banfi wine importing. Banfi, in addition to their own Italian wines, imports and/or manages a portfolio of 25+ new and old world wines. You’d probably recognize some of the wines: Bolla, Mont’Albano, Riunite, Little Black Dress, Trivento, and a number of others.

John and I got drawn into a fairly extensive conversation that started with wine and went considerably, and pleasantly, afield. As the Sweet Partner in Crime and I were starting to wind down, John graciously offered us a couple of bottles to sample. Here’s what he put into our hands:

Concha Y Toro 2009 Serie Riberas Gran Reserva Cabernet Sauvignon – Concha Y Toro is a Chilean winery known best for reasonably priced, solid wines. I’d not had a chance to try the Gran Reserva series. Cracked, poured, swirled, and was rewarded with a nose of smoke, cedar, dark fruit and a little alcohol. The flavors were quite soft for a young cabernet. Plenty of blackberry and cherry on the palate followed with some easy-access tannins. The finish is reasonably gentle and balanced, with tannins building after a few drinks. I could certainly see this as a quality porch wine you’d crack with some friends. With food alongside, we had it with some “mini meat loaves” and rosemary potatoes and it went along quite nicely. I think any kind of roasted meat would work here, especially if you go light on any sauces. At $15, quite a decent bottle.

Rainstorm 2009 Pinot Noir – Rainstorm is made by VinMotion, a “Pacific NW winery.” VinMotion used to be Washington’s Pacific Rim Wines, but has expanded its reach with Banfi’s assistance with Rainstorm, which focuses on Oregon pinot noir and pinot gris; and Sweet Bliss, a series of “sweet wines” that includes a red, a white, and a rosé.  Having just returned from Oregon, I had a reasonable idea of what an “Oregon pinot” would taste like (even though there’s an incredible amount of variation – but that’s for a future column). Oregon pinots tend to be a little pricier, and I was concerned with an $18 pricetag that I might be pouring a pinot that would be a little overly fruit-forward and high-alcohol for “Oregon style.” I was glad to see that the winemakers did their collective homework. Within this funky bottle lies a line with a slightly fruity, semi-smoky nose. Rather than being fruit-forward, the flavors are restrained but emerge quickly after a couple of sips. I wouldn’t call it “elegant,” but there’s much more subtle licorice and blackberry flavors than the cherry attack you’ll see in many inexpensive pinots. Finish is gentle and a little smoky. At this price point for a decent, relatively uncomplicated Oregon pinot, it’s surprisingly good. I’d give it a whirl again if I were in the mood for such.

Flights of Fancy

I love doing flights of almost anything. A “flight” usually refers to a set of small samples of wine, but can be beer, whiskey, cola, orange juice, coffee…you get the idea. In general, I differentiate “doing a flight” from a “tasting” since there’s almost always a fun, social aspect involved.  Comparing notes with your slightly-buzzed nearest and dearest across a table strewn with glassware is good times, yo. 

I returned recently from a vacation in Oregon (And there will be future column inches devoted to the delicious wines of the Willamette Valley. Oh yes…). As a day in Portland drew to a close, I realized I’d downed four wildly different sets of liquid tapas:

Flight #1 – The Morning Meditation

After shaking off the previous evening’s revelry, the Sweet Partner in Crime and I left our hotel (the Monaco…a cool place!) for a day-long meander around the city. While Portland has a world-class public transportation system (in the eyes of practically everyone except dillweeds like Ohio’s Governor John Kasich and U.S. Rep. Steve Chabot), the city is eminently walkable. Our plan was to have a look around Old Town and buzz through Chinatown for some lunch before heading over to the Pearl District.

Lan Su Chinese Garden, Portland

After an intentionally aimless stroll, we turned a corner on the edge of Chinatown and came upon the Lan Su Chinese Garden. Portland is best known for the Rose Garden and the adjacent Japanese Garden – but we’d read (correctly) that the Chinese Garden was also not to be missed. From the outside, one wouldn’t know just how peaceful and beautiful this place plopped in the middle of a major city was. On one corner of the garden stands the tea house. Since lunchtime was still a bit away, we stopped in to discover that they offer flights of loose leaf teas. Since I had little notion of good tea beyond Celestial Seasonings, I was intrigued.

Ready for takeoff.

Careful now...careful...

Our server, Martin, was very patient and helpful as he explained to us the differences between the various offerings. We opted for a flight of three “old growth” teas – two green teas from different mountain regions in China and a black tea from Vietnam. I drink a fair amount of “normal” tea. I’d never thought much beyond a basic “tea” flavor – and I’d never really associated terroir with tea. But there it was. The flavors of the Chinese teas were quite different – one was earthier, the other a bit more tannic. And the black tea was another beast altogether.

More important was the preparation ritual, which I clumsily attempted to emulate. Quiet, contemplative, peaceful – looking out across lovely intricate patterns of water and stone – we lost ourselves in tea and serenity for over an hour. Marvelous.

(We ended up checking three small ziplocs of the leftover loose tea. We were half-expecting those aromatic little packets to be confiscated by the TSA, but they made it home.)

Flight #2 – Magnificent Midday Mold

Our walk resumed, our delicious Chinatown lunch was at a pan-Asian bistro called Ping. I had a fabulous kuaytiaw pet pha lo (a Thai-Chinese combo of a duck leg stewed in mushroom broth over fat fresh noodles). The SPinC enjoyed her yam yai (“big salad” in Thai). The food was delicious, but I was mesmerized by the discovery that Ping offered flights of shochu, which I’d always wanted to try.

Shochu is a Japanese alcoholic beverage. Like sake, it’s clear and can be served hot or cold. That’s where the similarities end. Sake is generally made from rice, is brewed in a similar process to beer, and is usually around 13-15% alcohol.

"I've smelled moldier in my sock drawer!"

Shochu can be made from basically any substance that contains convertible starch – rice (including leftover grain from sake production), buckwheat, sweet potatoes, molasses, potatoes, and so on. The raw material is steeped in water, steamed, and cooled. The resulting glop is treated with a mold called koji. The koji breaks the starches down into fermentable sugars. After several days of fermentation, the product is distilled, producing clear, 50-ish proof liquor with a distinct flavor.

I did a flight of three shochu: one made from rice, another from buckwheat, and a third from molasses. (I think the idea of a moldy drink scared the SPinC.) How were they? None of them will replace wine in my beverage rotation anytime soon. I did like the one from molasses, which maintained a bit of that blackstrap sweetness. Next time I’ll try the sweet potato shochu. It was still a little early in the day with the Pearl’s breweries still in front of us.

Flight #3 – Beer! At last, Beer!

We hoped to hit the Pearl’s “Brewery Blocks” for afternoon flights of local beers. As my beer drinkers know, there’s some good beer from Oregon. Alas, we discovered that, like the Manhattan’s Meatpacking District, “Brewery Blocks” now apparently refers to the former tenants of those buildings. The former brewery spaces are now largely retail spaces and upscale condos. We went looking for ales. We found Anthropologie.This gentrification was nicely done, mind you – but fantasies of little beer tasting rooms were dampened.

Slightly disheartened, we headed back towards the Monaco. Rounding a corner on our circuitous route, we saw a bar-front for “Tugboat Brewing Company,” but our bubbles burst as we discovered the door locked. Frustrated, we turned around and – to our joy and relief – saw a sign for “Bailey’s Taproom” directly across the street. With a giant flatscreen menu of 20 Oregonian beers on tap, we’d struck gold. We shared a flight – a couple of IPAs, a cask bitter, a hefeweizen, and a framboise. Since we’d been doing a limited-carb diet leading up to the vacation, these were the first beers we’d had in a month. I might have given thumbs up to an Old Style at this point. They just tasted GOOD.

Beer. Glorious Beer.

Flight #4 – The Plan of Attack Comes Into Focus

Before we headed off to dinner at a highly-recommended-but-ultimately-disappointing meal at a Peruvian place, we stopped at Oregon Wines on Broadway, a wine store and tasting. Wine tasting was heavily on the agenda for the remainder of the trip. We had names of a few places from friends and travel guides, but we weren’t as familiar with the geography, which winery specialized in what style of pinot noir, etc. Eager to learn, we bellied up to the tasting bar and our tastress Emily (who sported some of the most stylish body art you’ll ever see) lined up six Oregon pinots for us from producers large and small.

This sloth loves Oregon pinot. Really.

Emily explained (while cracking us up repeatedly) how Oregon wines were more terroir-driven than other domestics. Unlike California’s more consistent weather, Oregon’s changes markedly from year to year. A very warm year like 2009 leads to noticeably fuller and rounder wines than more subtle flavors of a cooler year like 2010 from the same vineyard. (How Euro!) Also, Oregon’s soil varies greatly – from clay to sediment to volcanic ash, all of which can sometimes be found in the same field of grapes. We picked out a couple of samples we particularly liked for flavor and structure -- “Patricia Green” and “Libra.” Emily gave us a map of the Willamette Valley and said, “If you like those – try these!” Within a few minutes, our itinerary was fleshed out. The adventure began…

Naked Vine One-Hitter...Terrapin Cellars

One of the great perks of this gig is receiving samples. Wine at the door always brightens the day. Wine showing up unexpectedly really brightens the day. I'm not sure exactly where this particular bottle came from. I have my suspicions, but I'm sure not complaining...

Terrapin Cellars 2010 Oregon Pinot Gris

Oregon has become rightfully well known for Pinot Noir. I've had a number of Gewurztraminers and Rieslings from Oregon, but I was interested to learn that the "other" Pinot -- Pinot Gris -- is actually the second-most planted grape in the state. A number of winemakers recently decided to start carving out a niche for Oregon Pinot Gris. The wineries in this marketing group have vowed to stop making comparisons to Italy or Alsace, focusing on the uniqueness of their own terroir. I'm personally very interested to see where this marketing effort goes.

I'm even more interested after trying this offering from Terrapin Cellars. My first thought was, alas, "Alsace." The pleasant aromas of melon and lemon made me immediately think of an Alsatian wine. The flavor was quite different. Yes, the high acidity and minerality were certainly there, but there was a creaminess to balance those characteristics that's often lacking in Alsatian wines. Pineapple and melon were the strongest flavors I picked up. The finish is fruity, gentle, and lasting. We had this wine with a pretty tough pairing grilled orange roughy alongside asparagus sauteed with ginger. Most wines shrink from asparagus. This one most certainly did not. If it can handle asparagus, it can handle just about anything you'd have a white with.

Simply put, this wine's a winner, especially at a $14 price point. I'll extend an apology to the folks at Terrapin for drawing the Alsace comparison, but for any of the readers who are fans of that style of wine -- you'll probably dig these Oregon offerings. You'll also save a few shekels in the process. 

Whomever sent this along, many thanks. It's a keeper.

The Flipside of Syrah -- Pinot Grigio/Pinot Gris

I did a little background piece back in the Wine School days on the difference between syrah and shiraz. Which is to say, there isn't one. Same grape. What matters is terroir, vinification, and the whims of winemakers. You may remember the basic rule: "Syrah" is the grape's name in France, where it, along with Grenache, is the backbone of many Rhone reds. French Syrah tends to be deep and earthy. "Shiraz" is the name in Australia Those wines tend to be fruitier, bolder, and less tannic. The American tradition, such as it is, is usually to tag the wine with whichever "profile" the flavor more closely resembles.

Red wines aren't alone in this multiple monickering of single grapes. Look over on the other side of the wine store, and you'll see one of the more common dual named wines -- Pinot Grigio & Pinot Gris. Now yes, I realize it's just a language difference between Italian and French -- but there's a similar process at work.

A quick aside: Pinot Gris is a "cousin" varietal to Pinot Noir. "Pinot" is French for "pine tree," which is the general shape of the tiny-berried clusters of grapes. The difference in their names stems from the color of the fruit. One is dark ("noir" is French for "black"), the other is more grayish ("gris" and "grigio" are Italian & French for "grey").

There's actually a third grape in the family, pinot blanc, but it's not grown very widely. If you see a wine labeled "pinot blanc," it can be made from Pinot Blanc, Pinot Gris, Pinot Noir fermented as a white, Auxerrois Blanc, or any blend of the four.

Anyhoo, I digress...back to pinot gris and pinot grigio. Both wines' styles are light, usually citrusy, and quite easy to drink. So easy, in fact, some of them are so light that some of the more inexpensive of either give you the experience drinking flavored, slightly alcoholic water. In general, this wine is made to be drunk young -- usually within a couple of years of bottling. The varietal has been tagged with this "don't think, just drink and work on your tan" image for quite some time. Thankfully, any number of winemakers now treat these grapes with a little more care, and versions worth taking seriously are readily available.

I can already hear you asking, "Other than the language of the grape's name, is there any real difference between the two?" The answer is yes. Italian Pinot Grigio tends to be light, have a distinct citrus character, and be very crisp. French Pinot Gris usually has a more floral nose, more mineral flavors, and usually a little more fruit and honey on the body. Versions from the rest of the world tend to follow the naming convention of the region that the flavor most resembles. For instance:

Start with Italian pinot grigio. Much of Italy's pinot grigio is grown in the Veneto, the area around Venice. I tried the Zenato 2008 Pinot Grigio della Venezie ($13) as one example. The nose is pleasantly light and peachy. It's not in the least bit watery, and certainly has some weight, with a little bit of a sugary undertone. This gets followed by more peachy flavors with an edge that tastes a little like orange peel. The finish starts soft, but eventually becomes tart, crisp, and dry.

Along those lines, if you look at an American version, you'll see many of the same characteristics. The Estancia 2008 Pinot Grigio is from California. Like its Italian counterpart, it's a citrusy, high-acid wine. Even so, it's a slightly fuller wine than the Zenato, although neither wine could be considered "heavy." Otherwise, there's a very similar flavor profile to the Italian, plus a little extra lemon on the finish.

The hub of French pinot gris production is Alsace. Alsace is famous for its dry, minerally Rieslings and Gewurztraminers. It seems like what little residual sugar is left in the country ends up in the pinot gris. These wines give you a "fuller" experience and can usually be aged a little longer than their Italian counterparts. These wines tend to be somewhat richer and more floral.

For instance, the Lucien Albrecht 2006 Cuvee Romanus Pinot Gris ($16). The nose is really "blossomy" and quite pretty. It has almost a metallic quality when initially poured, but that flavor dissipates quickly when it's had some time to breathe or been given a good swirl. What's left is a full fruity flavor. Pears and sweet apples dominate, rather than the strong citrus of the Italian versions. It still finishes reasonably crisply.

On the American side, I tried the Acrobat 2008 Oregon Pinot Gris ($12). I found a lot of the same characteristics here -- a floral nose, and a fuller body. While it is somewhat acidic, there's a lot more creaminess to this wine that you'd expect. Very nice structure and balance.

I'd really suggest that you do a pinot gris/pinot grigio side-by-side tasting, especially with summer just around the corner. Find out what you like best before the heat sets in! Also, as far as food pairings, trust the "home" regions. Pinot grigio will go well with anything light and traditionally Italian. We tried it with broiled rosemary shrimp, and it was scrumptious. As for pinot gris, it goes nicely with most of the things you'd think of with dry Rieslings and Gewurztraminers. It was very tasty with chicken and chickpea curry.

Chardonnay Chauvinism

"Why are you biased against chardonnay?"

Huh?

I got this question in an email from a reader not too long ago. I won't lie...it got me thinking. I don't write a lot about chardonnay because, honestly, I just don't drink a lot of it anymore.

That's not to say I didn't drink a lot of chardonnay once upon a time. Like most wine drinkers, I started my exploration of the world of whites with chardonnay. House whites are almost always chardonnays. They're ubiquitous wines and there's a reason. Much like cabernet sauvignon, chardonnay will grow almost anywhere, but it takes a certain amount of care to make a truly tasty chardonnay. Chardonnay is probably the wine most affected by terroir. The growing conditions make a huge difference with these wines.

When chardonnay is discussed, there's often talk about "oaky" and "buttery" flavors. Neither of these flavors is inherent to the chardonnay grape. The "toasted" flavor many chardonnays have come from the oak barrels in which the wine is aged. This process also often darkens the wine. The "buttery" flavor comes from a process called "malolactic fermentation." (Wine geeks love to throw this term around because it sounds important.) In a nutshell, it's a bacterial process by which malic acid in wine (which tastes like tart apples) gets converted to lactic acid, which is one of the major flavorings in milk. When you hear someone talk about a wine "undergoing malolactic fermentation" -- expect a softer, creamier taste rather than a crisp, acidic taste.

California winemakers, sometime in the late 1980's and early 1990's, decided that oak and butter were What Chardonnay Is Supposed To Be. Many of these chardonnays were either powerfully oaked or so creamy that they tasted like buttermilk. Neither, in my estimation, was a particularly good thing. Sure, they're drinkable, but I just kept finding more and more interesting white wines.

Also, since I enjoy focusing on food with wine, I could usually find a wine that will complement whatever I'm cooking better than one of these California chardonnays. It's a "good enough" pairing, but again, I can usually find something that works better for me. Over-oaked or overly creamy wines tend to overpower rather than complement food.

Then someone slipped me a white Burgundy. White Burgundies, especially Chablis, are Chardonnay, but they're completely different from their American cousins. There's usually some oak, but the cooler climates keep the barrels from imparting lots of oaky flavor. The creaminess in these wines comes much more from the wine "resting on the lees" (meaning that the fermenting wine is kept in contact with spent yeast) that malolactic fermentation. The result is a crisp, clean wine that goes with almost any food. California chardonnays simply got pushed off my tasting radar.

But then I got this email and I figured -- "OK, let's give some other chardonnays a try...I'm always willing to be convinced..."

Round Hill 2007 "Oak Free" Chardonnay -- Thankfully, thankfully, some of the California winemakers are realizing that the world doesn't necessarily feel like gnawing on charcoal with a glass of white wines. There have been more and more of these "unoaked" chardonnays showing up on the shelves. The Round Hill still has a nose of banana and cloves, which can often be one of the side effects of malolactic fermentation. The body is crisper than many California chards, but there's still a full mouthfeel and there's still a slight smokiness to the flavor from somewhere. It's slightly creamy and does have more of an acidic character, with a little fruit and smoke on the finish. The Round Hill is a much better food wine than one to have on its own. It nestled nicely with roast chicken topped with pancetta and mashed potatoes. $7-10.

Waterbrook 2006 Chardonnay -- There should be no secret to the Vine faithful that I'm a big fan of wines from the upper left-hand corner of the U.S. California chardonnays get blasted with much more heat, so the acidity and fruit can get washed out. Wines produced in cooler climates tend to have softer, crisper flavors, so I hoped this would also be the case with Chardonnays from the Pacific Northwest. The Waterbrook, from Columbia Valley in Washington, didn't disappoint. The nose is light and crisp with scents of lemon and vanilla. Not surprisingly, a much more subtly flavored wine. The flavor is crisp and acidic -- peaches and vanilla with a little bit of oak. The finish starts out softly acidic, but that fades quickly into a gently toasty finish that becomes more pronounced after a couple of sips. A very nice glass of wine that would complement grilled salmon wonderfully. $11-13.

Olvena 2007 Somontano Chardonnay -- I also make no secret of adoring Spanish wine, and I'm a sucker for a glass of Albariño. I hadn't tried a Spanish chardonnay before, so wanted to slake both my thirst and my curiosity. I'm glad that I did, because this is a really interesting wine. The nose was different from many Chardonnays -- it's floral and somewhat "chalky." On the first taste, I thought this would be very similar to a French version, since it started me out with a slightly-citrusy, minerally character. Those flavors give way quickly to vanilla and oak, finishing with a combination of citrus and toast. Imagine a slightly oakier white Burgundy and you'll have it. And for about $12, you can have it! It's a great value at this price, and, like almost anything from Spain, extremely food friendly.

As I mentioned, Chardonnay can be grown almost anywhere that grapes can take root, so the "expressions" of Chardonnay are myriad and can be quite interesting. For me, however, the gold standard is still white Burgundy. If you feel like treating yourself, get yourself a bottle of white Burgundy and see what you think. You'll probably end up paying $18 or more for a bottle, but you'll never look at a bottle of "supermarket" chardonnay the same way again.