Naked Vine Double Barrel – Reminiscing with Nobilo

One of my first turns on the pouring side of a tasting table was back in 2007 at a fabulous fundraising event called Wine over Water. This annual event, held on the Purple People Bridge over the Ohio River, features gorgeous views of the Cincy Skyline and general merriment. Tasting  tables lined the bridge, while folks ambled up and down the bridge, noshing, drinking, and generally making merry.

Showing wines at an event like this is a curious experience. While the attendees usually like wine, they’re not there really to learn much, or to get in-depth tasting experiences like those you might have at a winery. I found I usually had about 10 seconds to take a drink ticket, pour wine, and give the tipsy person in front of me a quick nugget or two that they might remember.  

The Sweet Partner in Crime and I found ourselves pouring at a station that included Nobilo. I can still remember my patter: “This is Nobilo, a sauvignon blanc from New Zealand. It’s fruity and crisp, with flavors of pineapple and grapefruit. Some people say it smells like fresh cut grass.”

That was about all I had time for, since the bombardment of folks greedily holding their glasses out for more kept coming…and coming…and coming…

[Sidebar – the stations where the SPinC and I worked at this event were always among the most popular. Winos respect winos, I s'pose.]

Why share this story? An offer came over the transom to sample Nobilo Icon, Nobilo’s flagship line of wines. Specifically, the Nobilo Icon Sauvignon Blanc. Just seeing “Nobilo” made me get all reminiscent of the days when I had many fewer lines across my old bald pate. Took me right back to that tasting table.

Once I got my Icon sample, I made a bop over to Big Wine Store to pick up a copy of the “standard” Nobilo Sauvignon Blanc, termed their “regional collection” to do a side-by-side comparison. What better way to see if the “flagship” label is actually worth a few extra shekels, right?

For a little background, Nobilo is one of the older wineries in New Zealand, founded in 1943 by Nikola and Zuva Nobilo, natives of Croatia. In the 1970’s, Nikola helped spearhead the push to move New Zealand’s wine industry from largely local operations growing native grapes to a more global market producing Sauvignon Blanc and Pinot Noir, the grapes for which EnnZedd is now best known.

Sauvignon Blanc became New Zealand’s calling card. Instead of the flinty, acid balls of white Bordeaux or the super fruity California styles, New Zealand’s sauvignon blanc offerings were smooth bodied whites full of grapefruit and tropical fruit with a hint of that fresh cut grass. It’s a style I’ve very much enjoyed over the years, especially in the summers.

Side by side, I tried this pair – the Nobilo Icon 2015 Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc and the Nobilo 2015 “Regional Collection” Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc.

The difference was apparent from the very first swirl. The nose and palate of the Icon were full of tropical fruit: pineapple, papaya, and mango. The regular was much more acidic on the palate, with grapefruit and pineapple as  the dominant fruit flavors. There were some definite herbaceous overtones, which weren’t really present on the Icon.

The Icon’s body was slightly fuller, as well – more medium weight than the more Pinot Grigio feel of the Regional. The Icon was zesty and acidic at the end, which eased off into a long tropical fruit finish. The Regional’s finish was much more straightforward. Zingy grapefruit flavors and a clean, crisp end.

Of the two, I personally preferred the Icon’s richness and more tropical flavors. For those who think the “herbaceous” New Zealand Sauvignon has gone a bit over the top, this one would be a really nice change of pace. On the other hand, I know a lot of folks who really groove on the high-acid, grapefruity, grassy styles, and the Regional would be much more in their wheelhouse.

The retail on the Icon is $22 and the Regional is usually around $12. When I was at Big Wine Store, though, I saw the Icon on sale for $15. That would be about a three-second decision moving forward…

Naked Vine One-Hitter: Bisol’s “Crede” Floats Like a Butterfly

Homestretch of 2015! The year that was supposed to bring us Marty McFly’s vision of the Chicago Cubs victorious in the World Series turned out to be both exciting and challenging on any number of levels, and 2016 looks in all indications to be a “may you live in interesting times” kind of year. Still, we move forward with an eye to celebrating as best we can when we can.

With our celebrations go wine, and end-of-year celebrations scream for bubbly, of course. The all-around sparkling wine champ around Vine HQ these days, whether it’s being cracked on its own, alongside a light dinner, or next to a well-crafted post-merriment brunch, is Prosecco. Most Prosecco, as I pointed out recently, are usually under $15, are a bit fruity, hintingly sweet, and food-friendly.

Like most wine styles, though, there are a few Prosecco which are a little pricier. I haven’t bumped into too many of them, so when the Wine Fairy dropped off a bottle of Bisol “Crede” Valdobbiadene Prosecco Superiore DOCG – a $25 bottle – on the ol’ doorstep, I got my patented sideways grin of anticipation.

Before we get into the wine itself, let’s make some sense of that good long moniker. “Bisol,” of course, is the winery. The Bisol family has been producing grapes in the Prosecco region of the Veneto in some form or fashion since 1542.

If we peek back at the classifications of Italian wine that we explored not long ago, a wine labeled “Prosecco” would be at the “DOC” or “DOP” level of classification. “Valdobbiadene” is a specific area within the Prosecco region known for producing the higher-quality versions of the wine, so it gets tagged with “DOCG.” “Prosecco Superiore” does not indicate a difference in aging, as certain other similar sounding tags like “Chianti Riserva” do. Instead, it just translates as, “Hey! This is the gooood stuff.”

As for “Crede,” this apparently is a type of the Veneto soil in which the grapes for Prosecco thrive. In this case, the grapes are Glera (formerly called Prosecco, if you remember), Pinot Bianco, and Verdiso. This should not be confused with this guy, named after the Greek sun god:

No. Not him. But the Bisol gets a thumbs up.

This Crede is a darned nice sparkling wine. Many Prosecco tend to be a little sharp in both their fruit flavors and their acidity, which make them a good pairing for food, since those edges get rounded off. No need with Crede. The perlage (WineSpeak for “description of bubbles”) is creamy and gentle – much more reminiscent of a Champagne than an Italian sparkler. 

There’s a pretty nose of apple and apple blossoms that moves smoothly into a crisp palate of green apples and pears. Nicely balanced, the flavors are quite full and rich. The finish is lasting and creamy, with a gentle smoothness that’s somewhat unique to my experience. We had a couple of glasses alongside a pumpkin bisque with shrimp for dinner and the rest with Chinese takeout a day later, and it paired nicely with both.

All in all, I thought it was a winner. When I’m looking for sparklers that are of slightly higher quality than everyday, but aren’t quite in the premium category, I tend to lean towards some American bottles like Mumm Napa or Schramsberg. The Bisol will certainly have me peeking around the Italian aisle, looking for some interesting drink from Valdobbiadene. If you’re looking for something nice for a holiday meal or celebration, this would certainly be a solid option.

(Thanks to Laura at Colangelo for the bubbly.)

Tapas Tuesday Part II – Sherry to Make Merry?

While enjoying our Tapas Tuesday kick, I received an offer to sample a few bottles of sherry. Sherry’s popularity peaked in the 1970’s in the U.S., when every household seemed required by law to keep a bottle of cream sherry around for nightcaps and highballs. I cook with sherry all the time – it’s a fundamental component of many of my sauces and no chowder is complete without at least a splash of the stuff.

Neither are the sherries regularly found in tapas bars and Spanish restaurants around the world. The “drinking sherries” are somewhat more carefully constructed, usually quite old, and have a small yet passionate following in the world of small plates.

 

Sherry casks aging in "solera."

Years ago, back when blogging was considered cutting edge and I was just beginning my wine education, I did a rundown of the major types of sherry. I can honestly say that, at the time, none of the various styles agreed with my palate. Fast forward a bit, now that I’ve become slightly more refined in experience if not in practice, and I hoped the passage of years might have made me more appreciative of the stuff.

Before I get to that, though – let’s talk for a moment about what sherry is. The name “Sherry” is an Anglicized version of “Jerez” (pronounced “zhe-RETH”) -- the region in Spain from where this tipple hails.

Sherry is a type of fortified wine, which makes it a cousin to port, Marsala, and Madeira. In WineSpeak -- a "fortified" wine means that the winemaker's gone and added a bunch more alcohol, usually a neutral spirit like brandy, after the grapes have been fermented. This additional alcohol prevents the wine from spoiling, and allows the wine to be aged in barrel for a long period of time.  Most sherries are between 15-22% alcohol. Sherry is made largely from the Palomino grape, but other grapes called Pedro Ximénez and Moscatel are used in sweeter varieties.

Sherry has a fascinating method of production. Winemakers fill the large casks, known as butts about 80% full -- and then put the bung (translation: "big ass stopper which closes a cask") in loosely, so air can circulate during fermentation. While in the barrel, as much as 5% of the wine evaporates. As any veteran of a distillery tour can tell you, this is what's called "The Angel's Share."  

During the aging process, many types of sherry develop a solid layer of yeast, known as flor, on the surface of the wine in the barrel. This yeast layer slows the process of oxidation as the wine ages, preserving certain aspects of the flavor, as well as adding certain compounds called acetylaldehydes, which give sherry its “sharp” aroma.

As a part of the aging process, Sherry producers use what is called the "Solera System." Solera is Spanish for “on the ground.” In this process, as much of a third of a cask of sherry is drained and bottled, and the butt is refilled with younger wine made in the same style. This process is known as "refreshing the mother wine," and maintains consistency in the product from year to year. Sherries are aged a minimum of three years before bottling.

There are five basic types of sherry: Fino and Manzanilla are dry. Amontillado is aged for a minimum of  eight years and is dry to medium dry. Oloroso is also a medium dry sherry which is produced without the flor. Cream sherry is sweet. Fino and Manzanilla are made to be served well chilled. The others can be chilled slightly. (Also, Cream sherry is often poured over vanilla ice cream.)

For a summary of this information, Samantha at Colangelo provided this helpful infographic:

All you need to know about Sherry -- click to embiggen!

She also sent along two bottles -- Emilio Hidalgo Fino ($14) and Faraón Oloroso ($17) – to try alongside our Tuesday slate of various yummies.

Back to my hope for an evolution of my palate. The last time I did a sherry tasting was somewhere in 2007. Eight years later, I can honestly say that my sherry palate is largely unchanged. I just don’t think I’m programmed to appreciate it, as someone who has it as a “house spirit” on a regular basis would. The old “acquired taste” cliché applies firmly.

The fino, which was my favorite of the two, had a nice floral nose and an almost olive brine-type flavor. It was the most drinkable on its own, and it paired OK with the various olives and spreads that we’d assembled for dinner. But I wouldn’t exactly seek out that drinking experience. The oloroso – I simply wasn’t a fan. The darker, oxidized flavor had a nutty characteristic that was interesting – but it was largely overwhelmed by the jet fuel-y alcohol flavor.

I’m sure that there are many out there with more sophisticated sherry palates who might be able to guide me through the cultivation of an understanding of the stuff, but on my own, it just didn’t really resonate. There are so many good Spanish reds and whites – not to mention my beloved sparkler cava – which I would turn to in a tapas bar ahead of either of these.

That said, with the broad range of flavors and aromas in tapas – a higher-alcohol wine like this would be able to cut through most flavors. If you’d been out and found yourself at a tapas bar in the wee smalls, you might consider a glass of this to keep your evening rolling. As for me, bring me that split of cava and I’ll be a happy man.

Tapas Tuesday, Part 1 – Cava, Curious Math, and Biutiful Bubbles

Since joining our CSA, the Sweet Partner in Crime and I have challenged ourselves to power our way through every last vegetable in that wonderful box before the next one arrives. This has required some creative cooking on our parts from time to time – and we’ve ended up with lots of little leftovers, stray peppers, the occasional bag of ground cherries, and the like. How to clear out the tupperware, you ask?

Tapas Tuesday!

We decided, once a week, that we’d go through the fridge and see what we could easily combine into a small plate meal. Now, much of what we end up with wouldn’t be considered traditional Spanish tapas, but early returns on this little project seem pretty positive just the same.

Along came an offer I couldn’t refuse. One of my favorite memories of our European trip several years back was a meal in Barcelona at El Xampanyet, a tapas place near the Picasso Museum. After we sat down, the waiter brought us a bottle of the house bubbly – which, of course, was Cava. Few things in the world go better with tapas than Cava. The day after we decided on our Tapas Tuesday project, Tiffany at Colangelo offered to send us a couple of Cava samples. I almost sprained my finger hitting “reply.”

Cava, if by some odd chance you’re unfamiliar, is a Spanish sparkling wine. It’s usually a white wine, although it can be made as a rosé (which we’ll get to in a moment). The name “Cava” means “cave” and refers to the caves traditionally used to store and age the wine. 95% of all Cava is made in Catalonia, the region of Northeast Spain where Barcelona lies.

Cava is made in the methode champenoise style used in the production of Champagne and many other high-quality sparkling wines. Most Cava bottlings, however, are consistently lower in price than other sparklers of similar quality. Cava has long been my go-to bubbly when I’m snagging a bottle for immediate, unfocused consumption.

Tiffany sent us two bottles, one white and one rose, for our perusal:

1+1=3 Cava Brut – Make sure you chill this one thoroughly before you crack it open. One Tuesday, I came home from work and popped the bottle in the fridge, thinking that a couple of hours would probably be sufficient to get the bottle to a serviceable temperature. After I took off the wire cage, I found the cork to be super-tight, which probably should have been a warning to me. Driven by testosterone and a craving for little bubbles, I applied somewhat more force than I likely needed. The cork finally came loose. For my futbol-loving readers -- let’s just say that if Barça is looking for a great-spraying victory bubbly, I’ve done Messi’s beta testing. I got a bit drenched, but hey – small price to pay for science, right? As for the wine itself, it turned out to be very crisp and acidic with sharp bubbles that would cut through just about any flavor you throw at it. Some yeasty flavors, green apples, and a friendly fruity finish were the major flavor features. A very solid sparkler, especially at ~$13. Unfortunately, I’ve lost my note as to the array of plates we had with it, so you’ll just have to trust me in its ability to be flexible.

Biutiful Cava Brut Rose – “Biutiful,” one of the few rosé Cava I’ve tried -- was much kinder to me than to my spellcheck! Most Cava are made from white grapes like Viura and Xarel-lo, but this rosé version is made from 100% Grenache, which I thought gave it a very interesting construction. It possessed the tight, powerful carbonation common to Cava. The initial flavor is very dry and, once again, crisply acidic. However, after a sip or two, notes of strawberry and pear start to emerge, but these flavors aren’t sugar-backed in the slightest. I guess you’d call it “fruity, but bone dry” – which certainly is not a problem around here. On this particular Tapas Tuesday, we had this bottle as a very nice accompaniment to slices of prosciutto wrapped around marcona almonds, paprika-ed potatoes, and pork tenderloin sliders topped with curried sauerkraut from a local place called Fab Ferments. Trust me on the slider pairing – it was delicious. The little extra fruit carried the flavors with the pork/sauerkraut mix nicely. If you’re looking for a sparkler with a little extra fruitiness, or you’ve got some food where you’ll have a little “fat in your mouth,” you could find a winner here. You can find this for $16-17, which is still a good value.

With Labor Day Weekend picnics abounding, consider snagging a couple of bottles of cava to pour. There’s no need to break out the good crystal. Cava tastes just as good out of a Solo cup, if you ask me. Enjoy!

Naked Vine One-Hitter: Le Volte Dell’Ornellaia – Breezy Bolgheri makes a Svelte Supertuscan

The last jaunt the Sweet Partner in Crime and I made to California, we spent most of our time in the Sonoma Coast AVA. That close to the Pacific, the climate and soil yielded wines that were quite different from the Sonoma offerings to which we’d been accustomed. The coastal wines had, in general, more earthiness, less pronounced fruit, and a little rough-around-the-edges character that we really liked.

Fast forward to an offer I received to try an Italian coastal version of what would commonly be called a Supertuscan wine. To refresh your memory, the categorization of Supertuscan wines came about in Italy because some winemakers in Tuscany wanted to make wines above the quality of simple table wine, but didn’t want to follow the strict guidelines required to label the wines as Chianti or Brunello di Montalcino.

These blends usually included Sangiovese, but they often had other grapes like Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and Syrah – leading to a bigger, fruitier product which found much favor Stateside. These wines are usually labeled “IGT” (short for Indicazione Geografica Tipica), rather than the inexpensive vin di tavola.

The bottle I received, the Le Volte dell’Ornellaia 2013 Toscana IGT, falls into that category – but looked to be a new experience for me because the Ornellaia estate is near the town of Bolgheri, which faces the Tyrrhenian Sea from the hills. The soil there sounds much like the soil in parts of Oregon – part volcanic, part marine sedimentary, and part alluvial – so I was quite interested to see how this wine would differ from the Supertuscan blends grown further inland in the Chianti or Orvieto regions.

This wine, a blend of 50% Merlot, 30% Sangiovese, and 20% Cabernet, pours somewhat lighter than many of the thicker IGT blends. Cool weather and coastal wines tend to be lighter in body than their warmer climate, inland counterparts. No surprise there. The nose is quite pretty – violets and some light stone fruit. The first sip, as the SPinC put it, is “straight-up Sangiovese” – light bodied cherries and chalk. Then things…changed.

The sensation was like someone fed the wine a Super Mario power-up mushroom halfway through the mouthful. Suddenly, I felt I had an eyedropper of dark fruits and tannin squeezed onto the back of my tongue. Imagine a wine with the eventual punch of a big California merlot, but without the initial fruitbombiness.

I thought, at first, this particular note may have been because I hadn’t decanted the wine long enough. Even a couple of hours later, I still got the same pleasantly peculiar perception.

For dinner that night, I’d grilled up some lamb loin chops with a side of grilled okra from our CSA share, some quinoa, and tzatziki sauce on the side. It’s definitely a meat-loving wine. It went fantastically with the lamb. I think it would certainly need to accompany richer fare – it would probably be too big for many chicken or pasta dishes, unless you had a good ragu over top.

I definitely enjoyed this wine. I thought it was an interesting twist on the often over-fruited Supertuscans – and I’ll certainly be looking for some other coastal Tuscan versions.

The Le Volte retails for around $30.

(Thanks to Claire at Colangelo for the offer.)

Vine Nu Uma Rebatedor: Vinho Branco

A few weeks ago, I received an invitation for a wonderful sounding wine-tasting luncheon at a restaurant called Faith and Flower featuring wines from Portugal. Hosted by a master sommelier, this looked like a fabulous experience. Except for one thing.

Faith and Flower is in L.A.

With my enthusiasm slightly muted, I dropped a line to Katelyn at R-West, who'd forwarded along the invite. I told her that I probably couldn't get there on my lunch hour, but I'd sure like to try a sample of the potential wines. Ever helpful, Katelyn agreed, and the wine fairy delivered a bottle of Luis Pato 2013 Vinho Branco to my door.

To back up just a moment, Portugal has long been known for port (duh) and sherry -- but the "regular" wines from there are picking up steam. I've touched on a few of those wines previously -- notably my rhythmic ode to Vinho Verde and introduction to varietals from around the Alentejo region.

The Luis Pato is from the Bairrada region in central Portugal, known for fragrant white wines and full-bodied, tannic reds. Sparkling wine is also produced there in some quantity, and there's a growing production of rose.

In case you're wondering, "Vinho Branco" is Portuguese for "White Wine." (As opposed to Vinho Verde, which is "Green Wine.") This particular bottle is made from a grape varietal known in that region as Maria Gomes. Who was Maria Gomes? No one seems to know. There are stories about a hundred-plus year old woman who passed away in 2011, and a former female Portuguese army general who swindled many folks out of money by masquerading as a man -- but there don't seem to be many links between those two and grapes. In any case, outside of the Bairrada, the grape is known as Fernão Pires. This varietal, whatever its name, is the most widely planted white grape in Portugal.

If, like me, your experience with Portuguese whites is largely based on Vinho Verde, this bottle will come as a bit of a departure. The nose is much "fuller," with apple and pear blossom scents which are typical of this grape. The body has some considerable weight, along the lines of a California chardonnay, but without much creaminess. The main flavors I got were Viognier-ish peaches backed up with a lemony tartness. The finish is a bit on the soft side, which surprised me, considering the acidity. I thought it was a pleasant, though hardly complicated drink. Overall, I would say that it's a good change-of-pace summertime table wine that's not an acid ball.

The serving recommendation from Luis Pato (who, from his website, looks like a very nice guy) is to have this with lighter fishes or some kind of shellfish. I went with an Italian-style shrimp and beans and it went nicely alongside. It retails for around $13, which is just about right.

(That title translates from Portuguese as "Naked Vine One-Hitter: White Wine," if you're curious...)

Naked Vine Double Barrel -- New Terroir, New Tastes

Terroir comes up quite a bit around here, obviously. To refresh your memory, terroir is the combination of soil geology and composition, geographic location, and weather patterns that affect the growth of grapevines and thus affect the flavor of a wine. A wine made from Chardonnay in the cool, limestone-soiled French region of Chablis will taste completely different from a Chardonnay from the warmer, loamier soils of California’s Central Valley, for instance.

The practical upshot of the effect of terroir is that, given enough consumption, you can make general assumptions of what a wine from a certain country or region will taste like. This is especially true in some of the regions lesser known by the general wine-drinking public. For instance, if I’m in a restaurant and I see a New Zealand sauvignon blanc on the wine list that I’ve not heard of, I usually feel fairly certain that the wine will be highly acidic and have grapefruity flavors with the occasional fragrance of fresh-cut grass.

Of course, you’re familiar with the old saw about the word “assume” – and that can come into play with wine. One reason we can make these assumptions about a country’s wine flavors is that there tend to be areas of that region that dominate wine production – whether because of weather, amount of grape production, access to easy shipping, and any number of other factors. The New Zealand sauvignon blanc I mentioned above? I can also make an assumption that the wine came from the Malborough region of New Zealand, which leads that country in wine exports. However, other regions of the same country do their own twists on wine production – yielding wines that can be very different and certainly worth exploring.

I received a pair of bottles from Juliana at Colangelo from a couple of Southern Hemispheric regions which are starting to make more of a dent in the U.S. wine market. Both turned out to be somewhat different than my usual expectations.

The first bottle was from – surprise, surprise – New Zealand. As I’ve mentioned, most of the best known wines from there hail from Marlborough, which is on New Zealand’s South Island. This wine, the Trinity Hill 2013 “The Trinity” Red Blend, comes from Hawke’s Bay on the North Island. (I’ve actually written about a wine from Hawke’s Bay a couple of New Years Eves ago…) The reds I’ve tried from New Zealand tend to be on the lighter side, like pinot noir. The North Island’s climate is somewhat warmer, which allows for the growth of grapes that thrive in a little more heat. This Merlot-dominant blend with additions of Tempranillo and Malbec, packs a little more oomph in its pleasant package.

The nose is fairly fragrant, full of plums and blackberries, and those big flavors are echoed on the palate. It’s not too thick – certainly falling into the medium-weight category, with plenty of grippy tannins that aren’t overwhelming. The finish is lasting and full, with blackberry, mint, and lasting tannins. We cracked this over Memorial Day weekend, and I’d grilled up a London broil. The Sweet Partner in Crime made a wonderfully hashy side out of some leftover Israeli couscous, crystallized ginger, leek, and asparagus and we laid the strips of steak atop. Just a lovely meal, I gotta say. For $17, this wine stepped right up.

The other bottle was a Chardonnay from South Africa. The most common wines from South Africa are from regions such as Constantia, Stellenbosch, and Paarl – all of which have terroir that includes a warm climate. This makes for big, rustic reds – many of which are made from Pinotage, a cross between Pinot Noir and Cinsault that grows well in hot weather. The white wines tend to be made from sauvignon blanc and chenin blanc – again, good warm weather grapes.

However, there’s much more attention now being paid to a region of South Africa called Elgin. Elgin is located on a high-altitude plateau, which allows for the creation of “cool climate” wines, which tend to be lighter in body and higher in acidity. From Elgin comes the Lothian Vineyards 2013 Chardonnay – billed as a more “Burgundian” version.

I’m not sure I’d quite go that far with that description, but the flavors are certainly different from any other South African white that I’ve tried. Most of those wines tend to make good summer sippers, but this one makes for a much richer, fuller quaff. The nose brought to mind “toasted pear,” if that makes any sense. For a cool climate wine, the body is richly styles and somewhat hefty on the palate for a white with full flavors of honey, apple, and butterscotch. There’s some oak hanging out, too, but much less than I thought there would be given the nose.

The Lothian finishes creamily, with just a quick citrus bite and a long butterscotch ending. I wouldn’t exactly call it “elegant” – that makes it sound dainty, which it’s not. I’d probably go for calling it “classy” chardonnay. Good alongside any sort of fish with a little oil in it. We had this with some rainbow trout filets over wild rice, and we found it quite nice. The pricetag on this one is around $20. If you’re a fan of California chardonnay and would like something with a slightly different twist, it’s worth a try.

Natura Wines -- Chile's inexpensive organic alternative

Chilean wines benefit from the country’s unique geography. The Andes border the various winegrowing regions on the east and the Pacific Ocean does so on the west. The relatively high altitude, notable daily temperature shifts, and relatively dry climate create a solid environment for grape growing – protected from many of the pests and diseases like the phylloxera louse which can plague Northern Hemisphere vineyards. Because of the relative pest-free nature of the country, Chile boasts some of the oldest, ungrafted vines in the world.

To further preserve the natural bounty, many Chilean winemakers produce grapes and make wine using organic, biodynamic, and sustainable techniques. One of these environmentally-friendly producers, Emiliana Vineyards, recently released a line of affordable wines under the brand name Natura in the United States. These Chilean wines, all of which retail for around $12, include sauvignon blanc, unoaked chardonnay, rosé, pinot noir, cabernet sauvignon, merlot and carmenere (which are quite similar), malbec, and syrah.

I had the opportunity to try four of these wines, and my thoughts on them follow. (Thanks much to Rebecca at Banfi for the samples.)

Natura 2014 Sauvignon Blanc – A few of my wine drinking friends refer to themselves as “acid freaks.” While I generally can’t speak to their admiration for either Ken Kesey or Mastodon, their affinity for tart, crisp wines largely define their palates. The Natura Sauvignon Blanc falls squarely into the category wines they’d likely glug by the bottle come summertime. The nose of this sauvignon blanc gives a hint of the strong grapefruity, pineapple flavor that I subsequently ran into on the palate. I thought it was crisp without being overly light. The mouthfeel has just a bit of heft, which gives it a little more of a backbone than many inexpensive acid balls. The finish is grapefruity and peachy, with a pleasant little bite.

Natura 2014 Dry Rosé – Keeping with the acidic theme, we’ll move on to the Natura dry rosé. Dark salmon in color, the Natura has a fairly fragrant nose for a rosé. I discovered some pleasant peach and apple blossom fragrances at first sniff. On the tongue, the predominant flavors are strawberry and Granny Smith-ish apple. The finish is quite fruity, with more tartness that lingers with some nice fruit and a wee bit of smokiness at the end. I think it would make another flexible, summerish food wine, and I thought it was quite good with grilled chicken and veggies.

Natura 2013 Syrah – First off, if you try this one, definitely let it get some air. I thought it definitely needed a little time to open up. The nose: plummy and fairly fragrant. The first sip hit my taste buds with a quick pop of big dark fruits. I was afraid it was going to be a big, jammy mess, but that calmed down pretty quickly. The palate – much more restrained than I expected -- has plenty of dark fruit and a good amount of tannin. The finish has plenty of fruit, pepper, and graphite. Had this alongside a roast braised in an onion, herb, & mushroom sauce – and the wine really caused the peppery flavors in the sauce to pop out. Pretty interesting drink, all in all.

Natura 2013 Pinot Noir – For an inexpensive pinot, this one holds its own. The flavor rests at a decent midpoint between earthy Burgundian/Oregon style pinots and bigger, fruitier offerings from certain parts of California (which makes sense, as these vineyards are at a southern latitude equivalent to being between France and California). I found it to be a fragrant pinot with berry and cola flavors on the palate. There’s a considerable fruitiness in the body, but that doesn’t overwhelm the smokiness expected in a decent pinot. The finish has a nice bit of acidity, which would make it work with many rustic, tomato-based dishes. We used the Natura Pinot Noir as a stand-in for an Italian wine for a Tuscan vegetable soup we’d thrown together, and it easily took the place of the Chianti I’d forgotten to snag at the store. 

Breathing Life into the Heavy Hitter

Celebrations abound at Vine HQ! Your intrepid reviewer just had a bit of a milestone birthday, coupled with graduating with his doctorate from the University of Kentucky. (Now you get your wine advice from an actual doctor!)

The SPinC and I, post graduation...

The latter celebration, in particular, means that I can finally get back to more oenological-based writing, rather than spending my days looking at “Generational Differences in Transfer Student Capital among Community College Students,” which is the title of the aforementioned dissertation. (They almost didn’t pass me because there’s no colon in the title.)

Given all the reasons for celebration lately, I’ve had some lovely opportunities to wind down with the Sweet Partner in Crime, enjoy some good food, and get my brain back about me. One of those celebrations happened to coincide with a visit from the wine fairy, who left me a bottle of the Colpetrone 2011 Montefalco Rosso.

 

photo: Hungry Hong Kong blog

Does that name “Montefalco” ring a bell? You might recall a couple of articles in  this space about a wine called “Sagrantino di Montefalco.” Montefalco is a town in the Italian region of Umbria, which is in Central Italy just east of Tuscany. Sagrantino di Montefalco is one of the top-end wines of the region – and is a wine that I deemed “The Italian Heavy Hitter” because of its inky blank color, enormous loads of tannin, and tooth-staining richness. It’s also a bit on the expensive side.

Even decanted, Sagrantino can be a challenge to drink – and as it’s often quite expensive, it’s not something I consider snagging at the store for an everyday bottle. However, when the Colpetrone showed up at my door, I sensed an opportunity. As a celebratory meal when I turned in the full draft of my dissertation, the SPinC and I decided to grill some strips, sauté some mushrooms, and have ourselves a little feast. We needed a good, big red, and I figured this would fit the bill. (The suggested recipe for this wine was a pasta in a sauce made from a bunch of herbs, 2 pounds of ground duck and ¼ pound of pancetta. A 25-year old Naked Vine might have gone for the pasta, but my slowing metabolism preached caution…)

I had high hopes for the pairing. This Montefalco Rosso is the “junior version” of the full-blast Sagrantino. It’s actually a Sangiovese-based wine – 70% of the blend. Sagrantino makes up another 15%, with the remainder as Merlot. I knew it was going to be a big wine, so I poured the wine into a decanter a couple of hours before dinner. I hoped it would combine the heft of the Sagrantino with the food-friendliness of the Sangiovese while the merlot rounded off the edges.

I was close. Big, thick layers of plums and raspberries come first, followed by some pepper and vanilla, and then a big tarry wash of mouth-drying tannin. The finish is long and dry, with just a hint of fruit hanging around. While not as massive as a Sagrantino di Montefalco, this is still a big ol’ muscular wine. Even after decanting it for a couple of hours, the SPinC declared, “It’s still too much for me. Maybe in winter.”

I didn’t want our celebratory meal to be interrupted by a tannic overdose, so I broke out one of the few wine-related pieces of merchandise that I’ve been asked to review: the Fete Home Wine Aerator. I’ve mentioned the importance of decanting before, and a wine aerator can speed the process. Decanting allows more oxygen to get into the wine before drinking. Wine sitting in a decanter is more exposed to air, speeding the oxidative process. This process allows the wine to “open” – revealing more of its flavors and softening some of the harsher notes. Harsher notes like – say – a big mouthful of tannin.

Pretty.

Using an aerator forces more air through a wine than does decanting alone, so an aerator can be useful, especially with big, tannin-fueled wines, to bring out more of the fruit without waiting half a day for a wine to decant. I thought this dinner might be an excellent opportunity to test drive the Fete Home.

This is a very attractive aerator. It’s about eight inches long and feels very sturdy. It’s made from clear acrylic with stainless steel accents. It comes with a stand, and it looks quite impressive on a countertop. (They also include a pouch if you want to store it.)

On top of the aerator, there’s a dial with a 0-6 scale. The higher the setting, the more slowly the wine pours through the aerator, and the more air bubbles its way through the wine. The more tannic the wine, the higher the recommended setting. In this case, I did two small pours – once on “2” and once on “5.”

In a nutshell, it works, and it looks good doing it. I thought the wine was much improved post-decanting. The tannins weren’t quite as rough as with decanting for a couple of hours alone. The fruit rose more effectively on the palate and onto the finish, which developed more of a vanilla and butterscotch flavor. Different speeds might well help certain wines, but I didn’t think decanting on “5” was really any different than decanting on “2.” Your mileage may vary.

Bottom lines: I liked the Montefalco Rosso more than the SPinC did. Even after decanting, she thought it was still a bit too heavy for her tastes. I thought it went really nicely with the steak and mushrooms. (Despite being another year older and not quite up for the duck/pancetta combo, I nevertheless was feeling pretty meat-cravingly testosteronic after turning in my dissertation. That may have affected my perception.) If you’re a fan of big, rich, complex reds -- $19-25 isn’t a bad price.

This aerator usually runs about $35, but I’ve seen it on sale at Amazon for about $20. If you decide to go the aerator route, or if you’re looking for a nice gift for a wine lover on your list, you’re spending your money well here.

(Thanks much to Laura at Colangelo for the wine sample and to Jennifer at Fete Home for the aerator.)

The Pull of Montepulciano

Most everyone’s got a “house wine.”

In Vine Land, when there are new bottles showing up on a fairly regular basis, it’s comforting to just have a couple of selections that I know will work. I’m not always in the mood to crack open something new, believe it or not. Some wines are comfort food – solid, unspectacular offerings that don’t cost much and are flexible enough to go with just about anything.

Here at the ranch, one of our house wines is an Italian red called Montepulciano d’Abruzzo. Montepulciano is our normal red table wine. Simple, fruity, medium-bodied and straightforward, a glass of Montepulciano d’Abruzzo is like watching an old episode of Seinfeld. I know exactly what to expect, I can enjoy it without paying too much attention, and I don’t have to search hard to find an open episode. The fact that it’s around $10-12 for a 1.5 liter bottle doesn’t hurt, either.

Not long ago, I got a note from Maggie at Colangelo, offering me a pair of bottles of wines from Masciarelli, an estate winery in Abruzzo credited for “placing the central-western region of Abruzzo on the Italian wine map” with its production of acclaimed wines. These include my old friend Montepulciano d’Abruzzo, a version of which is considered Masciarelli’s top-line wine. Nothing against my good ol’ table wine, but I was very curious to see what a “high end” Montepulciano d’Abruzzo was like.  

A bit of a geography lesson. Abruzzo is a rather mountainous region of Italy located about “mid calf” on the eastern edge of The Boot, directly opposite Rome on the west coast. The grapes most widely grown in the region are Montepulciano for reds and Trebbiano for whites.

Thus, Montepulciano d’Abruzzo is wine from Abruzzo made from Montepulciano grapes. I state this explicitly because there’s a town in Tuscany also called Montepulciano, well known for crafting some of the better Tuscan wines, specifically Vino Nobile de Montepulciano, which is actually made from Sangiovese grapes. There is no known connection between the town and the grape. Just one of those linguistical quirks of Italian language and history, much like why most English-speaking outsiders can’t correctly pronounce the name of the Kentucky city Versailles.

Two bottles showed up for sampling – one of each color. I started with the white, the Villa Gemma 2014 Bianco Colline Teatine. This wine is a largely Trebbiano-based blend, with small amounts of Chardonnay and the indigenous grape Cococciola added. Most Italian whites I have these days tend to be on the lighter side and minerally. Not so here. This wine has some depth and creaminess, along the lines of a French Rhone white. I found it much more fragrant than many Italian whites, with some apple blossom notes up front. Medium bodied, it’s got rich apple and pineapple flavors on the palate, with a delicate, creamy finish. We quite liked it. As with most Italian whites, fish is a safe bet, so we did a simple slow-roasted salmon with some roasted veggies and couscous on the side. A steal for a wine you can snag for under $10.

A few nights later, we got into the Marina Cvetic 2010 Montepulciano d’Abruzzo DOC San Martino. Marina Cvetic married Gianni Masciarelli in 1987, and Gianni dedicated his top-line wine to her. She has run the Masciarelli production operation since 2008. While the table version of Montepulciano d’Abruzzo is the very definition of “sluggable red,” the difference in this more “grown up” version was evident from the moment we poured it. The color was much inkier than what I was used to, and the nose of this 100% Montepulciano is full of plums and strawberries. The body is considerable, with dark fruits wrapped up in vanilla and a solid tannic backbone that becomes very pleasant after the wine gets some air. (I’m not used to decanting my Montepulciano!) The finish is evenly tannic with some nice coffee flavors. With a strip steak topped with mushrooms, just outstanding. Also lovely next to evening chocolate. For $20-25, I thought this certainly worth that price.

I thought it was great fun to take a second look at a wine varietal I’d taken more or less for granted over the years. Try it yourself. I think you’ll dig.

Run for the Rosés, Part 2 – South African Pink

Following the slate of Italian rosés came another non-traditional entry into the pink wine market – the Rainbow Nation of South Africa. 

South Africa has a bit of a rocky wine history. The wine industry started there in the late 1600’s and grew until the mid-19^th century, when the grapevines received a one-two punch of a grape mildew infection called oidium and an infestation of the phylloxera louse, which proceeded to almost destroy the grapevines of South Africa, much as it was doing at the time to the vineyards in Europe.

When the South Africans replanted their vineyards, they planted them in high-yielding grapes like Cinsault and Grenache, resulting in a huge stockpile of wine that eventually resulted in a great deal of wine being simply dumped into rivers or similarly discarded. 

The state stepped in and set limits on grape production, varietals grown, etc. to allow the industry to recover, but – simultaneously – they were putting the finishing touches on that whole Apartheid thing, which made exporting South African wines a bit problematic for obvious reasons. Once Apartheid was lifted and exports began in earnest, grape producers were able to start focusing on the production of quality juice, and the industry finally found its legs.

South Africa is best known for rustic reds, especially big reds made from Pinotage, so I was interested to have a look at a couple of rosés from the other edge of the globe. The good folks at Colangelo (thanks, Kelly!) sent along a pair of bottles for my perusal. They actually included a few recipes to try, but between the completion of the dissertation and some other regular work stuff, I wasn’t able to do much exploratory cooking. Regardless, here’s how this set turned out.

De Morgenzon “DMZ” 2013 Cabernet Rosé – I understand that this wine’s moniker comes from an abbreviation of their name, but I think they might need a slightly different marketing strategy for this wine here in the States. In any case, this salmon colored bottle of pinkness is assertive for a rosé. The nose is fairly fragrant with a strong note of yellow. I got apple and cranberry on the palate with much more creaminess than I expected. This entry certainly isn’t a light, crisp rose from Provence. It came across to me as fuller and a little earthy, if you can believe that. The finish has a little bit of a citrus clip, but the main push is fruit – strawberries and cranberries – that last a good while. I thought this was a rosé on the richer side that could substitute for a light red. Good value at $12.

Badenhorst Family Wines 2014 “Secateurs” Rosé – This rosé, hailing from the Swartland region of South Africa, is made from some of the original varietals planted in South Africa. The wine is made from a blend of Cinsault, Shiraz, Grenache, and Carignan – the Cinsault and Grenache

sourced from some of the older vines on the Cape – vines that are trimmed with tools called – you guessed it – “Secateurs.” With that blend of grapes, I wasn’t surprised that it was much more reminiscent of a Rhone Valley rosé, with a good backbone of minerality and crispness to go alongside the tart strawberry flavors. The finish is minerally and somewhat soft, making it a really nice flexible food pairing wine. It’s got some nice complexity, and is just an all-around good sipper. Pretty good value at $15.

The Vine Gets Naked with G'Vine Floraison

A new sample of liquid goodness recently made its way across the threshold at Vine HQ -- a sample which was definitely a bit of a changeup for your Wine Guy’s palate. This representative from a family of potent potable not seen before in this space is an interesting twist on a common white liquor: G'Vine Floraison Gin.

Wine is my usual tipple, but I've been known to drift into the world of distilled spirits from time to time. I enjoy a good gin Martini (or even better, a Vesper...mmm....), but I've not gone on the deep dive into that world of spirits the same way I have with bourbon and rum. I was looking forward to trying this green-capped clear liquor.

The description of G'Vine (which I may also use as name of my upcoming mixtape with 50 Cent) proudly states that it's "generously infused with the vine flower as well as over 9 different botanicals." The tech sheet list of botanicals, minus the vine flower, is ten items long, so that's an accurate statement. But why do botanicals matter when it comes to gin? And what really *is* gin, anyway.

Gin in its present form was created in the 17^th century in the Netherlands. Dutch distillers had been creating a form of neutral spirit flavored with various berries and herbs since the 1500’s for medicinal purposes to treat ailments such as lumbago, kidney stones, and gout. A version for its current use came about in the late 1500’s, when it was known as jenever (yeh-NAY-ver).

English soldiers fighting in the Eighty Years War were given jenever before battle to calm their nerves, giving rise both to the term “Dutch Courage” and to the gin-drinking culture in England. Gin was used to mask the flavor of quinine in tonic water – as quinine was given to Dutch and English colonists in some parts of the world to prevent malaria. (Yes, your refreshing gin and tonic started as a form of disease prevention.)

Gin is generally distilled from either grains or grapes. The neutral spirit created from this process is then re-distilled with some sort of botanical, which imparts the bulk of the herbal flavors. Juniper berries are always the primary botanical (which is why some folks say that gin tastes “like a Christmas tree”), but any number of other flavors, including citrus peel, anise, and many others.

G'Vine Floraison, which is neither Dutch or English – instead hailing from the Cognac region of France -- belongs to the “distilled from grapes” category. In addition to juniper, G'Vine uses ugni blanc grapes, coriander, cassia bark (better known as cinnamon), licorice, cubeb berries (similar to black pepper), nutmeg, ginger, green cardamom, and lime.

What does this combination of flavors do, in this case? Honestly, I've never tasted anything like this version of gin before. I tried it both in a Martini and in a gin and tonic. This is easily the most aromatic gin that’s ever galloped across my taste buds. My typical gin selections are Hendrick’s and Bombay Sapphire, and neither comes close to matching the strength of the nose here.

Honestly I found the G’Vine almost overp

oweringly perfumey. At first sniff, I was interested, but the aroma quickly became too much when featured on its own in a martini. It was better in a gin and tonic. The bitter flavor of the tonic balanced out the perfume somewhat, but it was still a powerfully scented concoction. On the flipside, it's one of the smoothest gins I've ever tried. Many gins I’ve tried bite hard, but this one has little grip and next to no burn. If you find that the perfume scent is to your liking, it's very drinkable.

The best use I found for it was as a mixer. I had some gin in the back of the liquor cabinet that was given to me as a gift once upon a time. I always found the gift gin (which isn’t a brand that you’d likely run into around here) to be a little harsh and I'd gone through it very slowly. I mixed it 2-to-1 with the G'Vine Floraison and made another Martini. (Different day, kids. I’m not that much of a lush!) That worked. The G'Vine gave a nice little boost to the other flavors in the other gin and rounded off the bite. I found the result quite pleasant.

If I were going for a gin of my own at this point, I'd probably stick to my tried and true pair mentioned above -- but if you're a gin fan and you're looking for a new experience, or if you have some less expensive gin that could use a little dressing up, certainly consider at least giving this a run. G'Vine runs around $40 for a 750 ml.

[Vine note: yeah, I know that I wrote about this one before. But I liked my expansion, and I wanted to share it with you. Ain't I a peach?]

Naked Vine One-Hitter O' The Green (Part 3) -- G'Vine Floraison Gin

A bit of a changeup to conclude this little pre-St. Patrick's triple -- a representative from a family of potent potable not seen before in  these parts: G'Vine Floraison Gin.

While wine is my usual tipple, I've been known to drift over to the world of distilled spirits from time to time. I enjoy a good gin Martini (or even better, a Vesper...mmm....), but I've not gone on the deep dive into that world of spirits the same I have with bourbon and rum. I'm always up for trying something new, so I was looking forward to trying this green-capped clear liquor...

...that is, until I thought about what the reaction would be if I walked into a St. Patrick's Day party carrying a traditionally English beverage. My proudly Irish brother from another mother, The Wizard of Covington, would probably crack me upside the head with a bottle for denigrating the occasion so. However, as G'Vine is a French distillate (from the Cognac region) -- and since both the Irish and the French traditionally dislike the English, I might get a pass.

In any case, on to the liquor itself. The description of G'Vine says that it's "generously infused with the vine flower as well as over 9 different botanicals." The tech sheet list of botanicals, minus the vine flower, is ten items long, so that's an accurate statement. But why do the botanicals matter?

Gin, in case you didn't know, starts as a neutral spirit like vodka. It's generally distilled from either grains or grapes. G'Vine Floraison belongs to the latter category. The neutral spirit is then re-distilled with some sort of botanical, which imparts the majority of the flavor. Juniper berries are almost always the primary botanical. In the case we have here, in addition to juniper, G'Vine uses ugni blanc grapes, coriander, cassia bark (better known as cinnamon), licorice, cubeb berries (similar to black pepper), nutmeg, ginger, green cardamom, and lime.

What does that mean for this particular tipple? Honestly, I've never tasted anything like this before. I tried it a couple of different ways -- in a Martini and in a gin and tonic. I can say, honestly -- this is the most aromatic gin I've ever tried. It's almost overpoweringly perfumey. At first sniff, I was interested, but the aroma quickly became too much when it was featured on its own in a martini. I will say this for G'Vine -- it's one of the smoothest gins I've ever tried. Many gins bite hard, but this one has little grip and next to no burn. If that perfume scent is to your liking, it's very drinkable.

On its own, it was better in a gin and tonic. The bitter flavor of the tonic balanced out the perfume somewhat, but it was still a powerfully scented concoction.

The best use I found for it was as a mixer. I had some gin around that was given to me as a gift in the back of the liquor cabinet. I always found the gift gin to be a little harsh and I'd been going through it very slowly. I mixed it 2-1 with the G'Vine Floraison and made a Martini. That worked. The G'Vine gave a nice little boost to the other flavors in the other gin and rounded off the bite. I found it quite pleasant.

If I were going for a gin of my own at this point, I'd probably stick to my tried and true Bombay Sapphire or Hendrick's -- but if you're a gin fan and you're looking for a new experience, or if you have some less expensive gin that could use a little dressing up, certainly consider at least giving this a run. G'Vine runs around $40 for a 750 ml.

Naked Vine One Hitter O' The Green (Part 2) -- Mulderbosch

The next item in the St. Pat's Pack is not a stranger around these parts:

There are few more distinct brandings than the offerings of South Africa's Mulderbosch Winery. I've snagged samples of this bright green bottled concoction for the last couple of years. Here's what I wrote about the Mulderbosch 2012 Sauvignon Blanc last April:

 I found it quite delicate, flavorwise. It does have a pretty pronounced citrus fruit flavor, but one more in the sweet grapefruit range than many that end up with tart lemon or lime flavors. There’s also a fair amount of creaminess that belies the light body. The finish is more fruity than crisp and isn’t particularly lasting. I can see why this would be recommended as a brunch wine, although at 13.6% percent alcohol, it might be a strong way to start your day. I could see this going nicely with some fruit crepes or other dish that’s got some light cream in the recipe. Pleasant enough to sip on its own, as well.

There are a few minor modifications I'd make after the eleven additional months this wine's spent in bottle. It's still perfectly good. The wine's rounded out a bit. The really tart finish at the end has mellowed a little, although there's still plenty of acidity. There's a little astringency starting to form at the end, so if you get a bottle of it, you might want to decant a tad. Do drink it right away. It's not a wine for laying down.

The latest retail on this is around $18, so if you're looking for a cheap quaffer for a party, this probably isn't for you. If you're taking Wednesday off to ease your hangover and you find yourself looking for a brunch wine, however, it's a hair-of-the-dog consideration.

Naked Vine One-Hitter O' The Green (Part 1) -- Domaine di Tariquet

This winter's thrown my internal clock for a loop. I can always sense the start of Spring in my bones. I get that tickle in my hindbrain that's been around since we, as a species, decided that the whole "walking around on two legs" thing was pretty beneficial. That wonderful tickle that gets all the juices flowing as we head into the season where the world starts waking up again.

I've missed that tickle this year. February was so miserable that it flew by as we huddled in our winter wine cave. I suddenly realized, "Deer lawrd...it's MARCH already." It just doesn't feel like March yet.  Daylight savings time usually doesn't roll around while there's still six inches of snow. 

Thankfully, relief seems to be on the horizon -- and we can start thinking about some of our upcoming springtime revelry. One of those revelries is, of course, St. Patrick's Day -- a time when the rivers and the beer often run green. 

My good man Ferdinand at Colangelo sent along a suggestion. Why not slide a few other "green" beverages into the rotation? Sounds like a sensible enough suggestion. I mean, just how much Bud Light spiked with Green No.3 does one country need? He was good enough to send along a few emerald-hued offerings for review. I'll get to the first one in a moment, but I've an explanation to give first

Some long-time readers may have noticed the recent slowdown in posting here on The Vine. Yes, I've not been writing as much as in months past. Some of you can probably guess why, but for those of you who don't -- in my other life, for the last three-plus years, I've been working on my doctorate in Educational Policy, and I'm at a critical point in the writing of my dissertation. Predictably, I haven't had a lot of spare mental energy to crank out wine columns. Fear not. Lord willing and the creek don't rise, I should be through the process in a month or two, and I should be back with a properly thirsty (and hopefully celebratory) vengeance.

For now, I'll be handling these potential Oenos Go Bragh one at a time. First up is the Domaine du Tariquet 2013 "Classic" Cotes du Gascogne. 

I've powered down a lot of white wines from Gascony over the last several summers. Those whites are traditionally light, crisp, and high in acidity. They're wines built to be drunk young -- usually as an aperitif or with a light meal. The Tariquet is no exception.

Made largely from a combination of Ugni Blanc and Colombard, with a little Sauvignon Blanc and Gros Manseng thrown in for good measure, the Tariquet starts with a pleasant enough nose of grapefruit and green apples. I was expecting an acidic wine, I should have guessed when I read "serve thoroughly chilled" on the tech notes, but this one knocked me back a pace.

Some white wine fans refer to themselves as "acid freaks" when they enjoy wines like this. Maybe my palate's still in winter wine mode, but this is a tart wine. The smell doesn't lie. The flavor is "green," to be sure -- lots of grapefruit and apples at high-pucker volume. I thought it was a little too much for my tastes. The finish, predictably, is clean, crisp, and quick. 

If grapefruit is a flavor you enjoy and you can get past the initial acid blast, it's a pretty drinkable wine. I'd probably wait a couple of months, at least until my lawn starts growing again and I start doing outside work, before I chased this down. Just the same -- if you're throwing a party and some of your leprechaunic friends are big white wine fans, you could stand to have a couple of bottles around. The Tariquet retails for around ten bucks.

P.S. GTHC. Always.

Just in Time for Valentine's -- The Fresh Bubbles of Franciacorta

The common knowledge of Italian sparkling wine begins and ends with two particular types of sparklers: Prosecco and Moscato.

Prosecco is the best known. Prosecco is both the name of the white grape used to make the wine and

Franciacort-ahhhhhh....

the region in the Veneto where these grapes are grown. These wines tend to be on the dry side and tend to be somewhat reminiscent of Spanish cava, the budget-friendly sparkler I’ve mentioned many times.

The other is Moscato, one of my favorite brunch wines. Moscato are fruity, usually low in alcohol, lightly effervescent, and often rather sweet. The best known Moscato hail from the Asti region and are labeled, logically, “Moscato d’Asti.”

[Side note: You’ve undoubtedly seen “Asti Spumante” on your wine store shelf. That term just means “sparkling wine from Asti.” “Spumante” simply means that that the wine is sparkling, not that it’s dry or sweet. Asti Spumante is not necessarily made from Moscato, either.]

There is another Italian growing region gaining in popularity among sparkling wine fans – Franciacorta. This area, located in the Lombardy region of Northern Italy, is about an hour east of the region’s capital, Milan. Franciacorta’s winemakers produce sparkling wines made largely from chardonnay and pinot noir.

Franciacorta differs from the other sparkling wine producing regions in The Boot because of the style of production. Franciacorta winemakers use an identical method to make their bubbly as the winemakers do in the Champagne region of France. This technique, known as methode Champenoise and covered in more detail at other times in this space, involves a secondary fermentation in the bottle to produce carbonation. Franciacorta’s bubbles arise from the same fermentation technique, known in Italy as Metodo Classico. Franciacorta is the first Italian wine region to use this method exclusively.

Bottle with the Franciacorta DOCG seal.

Franciacorta’s growers are a close-knit bunch. 50 years ago, the producers in Franciacorta voluntarily self-imposed regulations on wine production, aging length, nomenclature, etc. As a reward for their efforts, Franciacorta became the first sparkling wine region in Italy to receive “DOCG” status. DOCG, short for Denominazione di Origine Controllata e Garantita, is Italy’s highest level of wine appellation and guarantee of quality. DOCG is the same designation used for the top wines in regions such as Chianti, Barolo, and Vino Nobile di Montepulciano.

Franciacorta wines, while similar in grape varietal and production style to those in Champagne, are produced from grapes grown in vineyards in somewhat warmer climates than their French counterparts. As a result, these wines tend to be fuller and fruitier in flavor and have a somewhat “sharper” characteristic. Even so, Franciacorta’s sparkling wines are more complex and layered than the other bubble-filled offerings from Italia, and the wider wine-drinking world is starting to take notice.

Catherine at Balzac kindly sent along a few samples of some of these sparklers, which all retail for around $20-25.

La Montina (NV) Franciacorta Brut – This bottle of bubbles is light and approachable, with a considerable continuous burst of tight bubbles. The main flavor characteristic I ran into was orange blossoms, definitely on the nose, but it also echoed across the largely dry palate. The La Montina lost me a little bit at the end, where the orange blossom flavor turned a bit towards orange rind, especially as the wine warmed a bit. To minimize this astringent finish, make sure you have this wine good and chilled when you serve it. I’d suggest it more as an aperitif than anything, especially with nice antipasti. A “little fat in your mouth” helps this wine a great deal.

Ronco Calino (NV) Franciacorta Brut – Of the three bottles, this was the most powerfully carbonated. The bubbles were sharp and quite strong initially, but they faded quickly into a mellow fizz. I thought this had a very pleasant lemon chiffon flavor, with a crisp, prickly finish. On its own, decent enough, but it was excellent with dinner. We had this with a challenging pairing – a green salad with a tart vinaigrette alongside roasted chicken in a caper sauce. The finish cut through the vinegar flavors without a problem, letting that light lemon flavor shine through. For light meals like this, I’d rather open a bottle like this than an okay still wine, adding some festivity to an everyday meal.

Cavalleri (NV) Franciacorta Blanc de Blancs Brut – Of the three, this Blanc de Blancs was our clear favorite. Blanc de Blanc means that the wine is 100% Chardonnay. (The complement, Blanc de Noir, means that a wine is made from 100% Pinot Noir.) The Cavalleri was the driest and crispest, and sported the most firm mousse of the three. The flavor also had more of a “Champagne” character with its tight finish, tart lemony notes and distinct aroma of yeast. On its own, I think it would serve as a really wonderful aperitif. I also thought it handled a challenging Greek-ish salad pairing well, especially if you snagged a bite that had a big blob of goat cheese therein. I would have liked to give this a go with a slightly heavier meal like a roasted chicken or pork tenderloin dish. Money well spent for a bottle of this.

With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, if you’re looking for a little amore and would like to expose your intended to something a little different with your sparkler, Franciacorta’s a very solid choice. Certainly worth a try for expanding your bubbly horizons.

Naked Vine One Hitter – Faust, Five Years’ Future

In March 2009, I took my first spin through the Cincinnati International Wine Festival, doing my level best to spin and sip my way through most every booth in the place. The sheer number of tastings I did eventually overwhelmed me, my taste buds, and – as you can see – my tooth enamel. 

I find it fascinating to read my old reviews from a few years back to see how my palate has changed as time’s gone by. Before the decade’s turn, I was much more into big, extracted red wines like merlot, cabernet sauvignon, and zinfandel. (“Extracted” is WineSpeak for “Wine made in such a way as to concentrate the flavors, producing a bigger, generally fruitier, and more “in your face” wine.)

When I wrote up my experiences from that day, the wines I chose as my “Best in Show” was the 2006 “Faust” Cabernet Sauvignon from Huneeus Vintners in Napa Valley. The wine, to no surprise, is named for the protagonist in the famous work by the German poet Goethe. Here’s what I wrote back then:

“Maybe it was the name that piqued by devilish curiosity. Maybe it was the powerful black cherry, fresh tobacco, and blackberry flavors that cut through everything else that I'd tasted up to that point. Maybe it was the tannins, strong but without taking away from the fruit and the finish that seemed to go on for days. Whatever deal was struck by these winemakers, they put together an absolutely delicious cabernet -- likely in my personal Top 10 of that varietal all time. Probably will set you back around $55, but considering that "high end" Napa cabernet sauvignons are selling for literally hundreds of dollars a bottle, run with this as a splurge and hold on to your soul.”

A bit of youthful hyperbole? Sure thing – but it *was* a really good wine which had enough power to blast its way through the thick coating of tannin that was undoubtedly wrapped around my tongue by the time I tried it on that March day. While I hadn’t run into an occasion to pick up a bottle over the years, I always remembered it, and I was excited for the notion of having my way with an entire bottle of the stuff!

Fast forward to late 2014. Your favorite companion in the wine review world got an email from Toby at Fineman PR, asking me if I’d like to sample the 2011 vintage of Faust. With memories of my previous brief dance with this devil in my mind, I quickly agreed.

Much like it’s namesake’s winding journey to salvation in that German poem, this bottle took some time to get to me. A bit of a shipping mishap and some ridiculous state import laws kept the bottle from me for a time, but Toby eventually succeeded in getting me a bottle of the just-released 2012 vintage. I did some decanting, grilled up some veal loin chops, rousted the Sweet Partner in Crime from her end-of-semester grading and set to tasting.

OK, first off – “extracted” still qualifies as an apt descriptor here. This is a Napa cab, through and through. Most of what I wrote for the 2006 holds true today. There are still big, bold red and black fruits on the nose and on the palate, which is rich and packed with tannin that definitely needs some air to unwind. The finish is long and chewy. It smooths out a bit as the evening winds on.

Since this is the just-dropped vintage, I thought it’s still drinking pretty young. Six more months in bottle would do the integration of this wine a world of good. The SPinC was more succinct, “It’s just too much for me,” she quipped, “I remember loving wines like this, but my palate just isn’t set up for this one anymore.” I understood where she was coming from. I still liked it more than she did.

With the veal chops, I was pleased with the pairing, but I wasn’t blown away by it. It was a good red wine pairing, but I didn’t think it was quite $55 good. Now, next to a piece of dark chocolate towards the end of the evening, I would have at least entertained an offer for a small piece of my aforementioned soul. Really super there.

For fans of premium California cabernet, I think you’re going to be pleased with this wine. If you’re looking for a holiday gift for a special someone, it’s a pretty solid option. I could certainly see the potential – especially if one were to lay a few bottles of this down for awhile. It’s certainly got the “bones” that could potentially mature into something really special.

The price for Faust remains the same -- $55. I also see that Huneeus is producing a couple of single-vineyard reserve wines inspired by Faust’s story called “The Lure” and “The Pact” which retail for $75 apiece.