Planet Bordeaux (Syndicate, Fool!)

Mike Wangbickler of Balzac Communications recently gave me the opportunity to get a first look at “Planet Bordeaux” – the new marketing project by winemakers in the Bordeaux region. The project’s mission is to help people realize they can afford Bordeaux wines of quality without either leasing their first-born or slugging the scrapings from the bottom of fermenting tanks. “Folks can afford Bordeaux as an everyday wine. It doesn’t just have to be for collectors,” said Mike.

First off, a quick review of Bordeaux wine. Bordeaux is arguably the most famous French wine region (the argument would come from their Burgundian neighbors). Some of the most expensive and sought after wines in the world call this slice of France home. Red Bordeaux is always a blend of cabernets sauvignon and franc, merlot, petit verdot, and malbec. White Bordeaux is a blend of sauvignon blanc and semillon.

Red Bordeaux, even though they’re a mix of some varietals that we may think of as heavy, tend to be lighter-styled, tannic reds. Even inexpensive Bordeaux can have complexity to the flavor. There’s usually an earthy or “cigar box” aroma and flavor along with the dark fruit, and finishes that are long and tannic. White Bordeaux usually are quite acidic, minerally, and have floral or herbal scents and flavors. They’re also usually very light in color. The deeper colored whites have more Semillon and tend to be heavier.

The mystery, allure, and frustrations of Bordeaux can often be traced back to the caste system for wines. In 1855, a “ranking system” for French wines was developed based on terroir, winemaking quality, overt and covert bribery, etc. The “best” single vineyard chateaux were classified into five “growths” – the Premier Crus are Chateau LaTour, Chateau Margaux, Chateau Haut-Brion, and Chateaux Lafite and Mouton Rothschild.

Below these are the AOC wines – wines from a certain region. These are your regional wines – Chateaux that can call themselves “Bordeaux” but aren’t in the “growth” rankings. The grapes must be grown in Bordeaux, but they come from one chateau or commune’s holdings, although they’re not necessarily single vineyard products. These tend to be a step below the “classed growths,” but are still considered from reasonably to really good wine. You know you’re looking at one of these wines if you see the following words on the bottle:

• Bordeaux Rouge (Red) AOC
• Bordeaux Supérieur Rouge AOC
• Bordeaux Rosé AOC
• Bordeaux Clairet (Dark Rosé) AOC
• Bordeaux Blanc (White) AOC
• Bordeaux Supérieur Blanc AOC
• Cremant de Bordeaux (Sparkling) AOC

Below AOC is “Vin de Pays” – a region’s “table wine.” Vin de Pays simply means that the grapes are grown anywhere in that region, but they can be from anywhere therein.

So, the top grade goes for hundreds of dollars a bottle. Collectors hoard these. Thus, there’s always a demand. The vin de pays can be found anywhere. It’s inexpensive. Thus, there’s always a demand. The AOC wines, trapped in the middle, were faced with quite a quandary. These wines are quite a cut in quality above the vin de pays, but many aren’t much more expensive. Imagine you’re a winemaker and you’re putting together quality product, could make a profit with a relatively low price point, and are still a really good deal in any case. If you could only get the word out – people would snap it up, right?

Enter the Byzantine (or would that be Gallic?) world of French wine law. There are restrictions on marketing. Chateaux and communes cannot partner to market their wines. They have to work individually, for the most part. So, not surprisingly, the Chateaux with the most cash get the most run in the press, since they can afford the publicity. The best selling AOC red Bordeaux is Mouton-Cadet – a little side project of Chateau Mouton Rothschild. You can find that Bordeaux almost anywhere. It’s almost as ubiquitous as Duboeuf’s Beaujolais.

So, along comes Syndicat Viticole des appellations controlees Bordeaux et Bordeaux Supérieur, also known as the Bordeaux Syndicate (not to be confused with Rhyme Syndicate). The entire region figured that since they can’t market against each other – they’d market alongside each other! “Planet Bordeaux” (online at http://www.planete-bordeaux.eu/) followed.

Thanks to Mike and Balzac, I was able to procure a few of the Syndicate’s samples. We had three bottles – one white and two red. Thoughts? First up, the white:

Château Thieuley 2009 Bordeaux Blanc ($14) – We opened this one weekend afternoon when we just needed something good to sip on. I was surprised at the nose on this wine. I expected more citrus, but I got a lot of melon scents and some yeast. The taste – it’s a nicely balanced flavor of thick citrus and mineral. The finish is soft and lingers for a bit with a touch of acidity. This wine probably deserved a dinner pairing, but hey – we were thirsty! “You can tell it’s not top line white Bordeaux, but it’s very drinkable,” commented the Sweet Partner in Crime. We moved on to the reds:

Château du Lort 2006 Bordeaux Rouge ($13)
Château Mirambeau Papin 2006 Bordeaux Supérieur Rouge ($20)
The difference between Rouge and Supérieur Rouge? The latter come from older vines as a rule, and they also must be in bottle for at least a year before release.
One tip: Bordeaux Reds MUST be decanted. The young ones need decanting to smooth their edges. The old ones need it to open up all of their potential yummy goodness. The contrast in both these wines was pretty remarkable once we let them sit for a bit. We tried them on their own first.

The “standard” had only a slight “Old World funk” on the nose -- more of a fresh-cut wood and some blackberry. The body starts almost tartly and hangs in there before transitioning into a tannic, graphite like finish that’s moderate. Not very earthy, if you like that kind of thing. The Supérieur had much better balance. The extra time in barrel smoothed off some of the tartness and gave it a “broader” nose – some earth, some fruit, some wood. The taste was quite pleasant, not too powerful or earthy, and with a nice transition of blackberry and cherry into tannins that hang in gently for awhile.

With some lamb loin chops, the standard red actually did quite well. The lamb calmed down the tannins and cut down on the edges of the tartness. The flavor became brighter and fruitier and turned into a nice contrast. After a few sips and bites, the Supérieur emerged as a dark, fruity sidecar.The Supérieur’s subtler flavor merged much more as an “alongside” flavor than the “standing out” flavor of the standard red.

After a couple of hours, they continued to evolve. The regular became “brighter” – with almost a floral bit on the nose. The Supérieur became deeper and darker, adding plums and tar to the nose, The regular red’s sharp edges smoothed and the wine balanced much more. Even so, I personally thought the Supérieur was a better wine all around.

Marketing or not, I think anyone who’s really interested in learning about wines owes it to themselves to form a decent idea of a region’s style and flavor. These AOC wines from Bordeaux give a nice window into those profiles, so these would all be good “starter” wines to help you develop a true sense of a) whether you even like these wines and b) whether you want to explore some more.

Wine and Dinner of the Month Club – July 2010

If you live in the Cincinnati area, as we do, one of the great culinary treasures is Findlay Market, a municipal market first opened in 1855. I don’t really consider myself a foodie, but walking in the market and seeing the goods on display at the various vendors’ booths almost always inspires me to try something different. With apologies to our vegan and vegetarian friends, some of my favorite places are the meat vendors. Often I have looked at a sumptuous rack of baby back ribs and thought, “I’d like to throw that on the grill sometime!” So this month I get my chance. I picked up the ribs at Mackie Quality Meats and a mesquite dry rub from the spice vendor Herbs & Spice and Everything Nice and got to work on July’s wine dinner.

Menu
Sweet and Sour Slaw

Warm Green Bean Pesto Salad

Barbecued Ribs

Graeter's Ice Cream

Wine
2008 Seghesio Zinfandel

In this case the ribs were actually the easy part. My brother-in-law, Rob, told me his method which was super easy and made for incredibly juicy, tender and succulent ribs.

[SPOILER ALERT: In order to help Rob maintain his Lone Star street cred, those of you from Texas please stop reading now and join back in below.]

When I pictured myself cooking these ribs it was standing at the grill, patiently watching over my prize as it cooked over low heat and absorbed the smoke from some wood chips I threw into the grill. You know, like a real man. But Rob gave me a better way – cooked in the oven. Start by putting on your Tommy Bahama-like shirt and pre-heating the oven to 225 degrees Fahrenheit. Coat the ribs in the dry rub and wrap in aluminum foil, sealing it tightly. Put the ribs on a baking sheet (juices will leak) and put in the oven for just a little less than 5 hours. I went with 4 hours and 45 minutes. You don’t even have to watch them, which gives you plenty of time to make side dishes. Once the ribs were done in the oven, I took them out and finished them on the grill a few minutes while brushing on some barbecue sauce. You could also do this in the oven under the broiler, which would probably have been easier since they were so tender that the rib rack started falling apart when I tried to turn it over on the grill.

[You Texans can rejoin the conversation now. I think Rob’s reputation is intact.]

And there you have it. You often hear the phrase “fall off the bone tender”, and these ribs really were! We could not even pick them up by the bone to eat because the meat would just fall away, and they were so juicy you could almost drink them.

While the ribs were cooking, I made the side dishes. The slaw can be made early on, and the recipe even suggests making it the night before so the cabbage and other vegetables can marinate in the dressing overnight. It was just slightly sweet with a good vinegary tang. I chopped the cabbage pretty thick so it was crunchy and hearty.

The green bean salad was sort of an olio of things we had around the house. The beans were from my parents’ garden last year. We had helped them pick, wash and break the bean, and Christine helped my mom can them. As my Dad said, “She got the full bean experience.” I added some small, boiled potatoes that we also picked up at Findlay, some corn we had leftover in the fridge and some chopped onion. I mixed into this some pesto that Christine had made from the basil in our garden and warmed the whole thing up. Just prior to serving, I cut up some tomato wedges and placed them on top. I had opened up the wine to let it breathe a little and after plating the meal, I poured us a couple glasses and we sat down to eat.

As I said before, the ribs were tender and juicy, and the barbecue sauce gave them a nice smoky flavor with just enough sweetness. The acidic tang of the coleslaw provided a perfect counterpoint to these flavors, and the bean salad provided additional flavor variety. The wine went nicely with the entire meal as it complemented the ribs and was not overpowered by them. It was a nice counterbalance to the tartness and acidity of the coleslaw. Needless to say, between the two of us we finished off the entire rack of ribs and the bottle of wine.

Christine relaxed for a bit while I cleaned up the kitchen and then we went for dessert. I had not planned a dessert because I figured what would be a better after a meal of barbecued ribs than ice cream, and in this part of the country, there is only one ice cream – Graeter’s. A couple years ago a Graeter’s store opened up about eight blocks from us. This is a good thing because now we walk over for a scoop instead of buying a pint and gorging ourselves with the whole thing. Self-control and Graeter’s are not two words that play well together. Christine had a scoop of her favorite, coconut chip, and I had a scoop of mint chocolate chip. We walked home completely satisfied. It was another great meal with another great wine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But, honestly, I prefer something like this:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guest Column -- Wine and Dinner of the Month Club – June 2010

Another mouthwatering entry from Jeff, halfway through his gift to Christine the Pie Queen…

The wine this month was a very nice Beaujolais paired with a recipe suggested by Mike at TNV. I put together a small cheese plate for an appetizer and a very simple, fruity dessert perfect for the warmer months. You may remember that last month we had Thai grilled chicken. This month we are sticking with the Asian theme. Enjoy.

Menu
Assorted Cheese and Fruit Plate

Thai Grilled Beef Salad

Mango and Melon Dessert

Wine
Henry Fesse 2007 Moulin-a-Vin Beaujolais

I started by making the mango puree for the dessert and putting it in the refrigerator to chill. I then opened the wine and had a brief panic when the cork broke in half while still in the bottle. I figured that couldn’t be a good sign, but I was able to get the rest of the cork out and found finding the bottom of it wet and the wine just fine. The wine had good fruit with a nice soft finish and not a lot of tannin. It went great with the appetizer and the main course.

Next, I got to work on the cheese plate. I set out some grapes, sliced pears, and bread as well as three different cheeses that I picked up at our local Kroger: brie, boucheron, and morbier. They were in that order as far as pungency. The brie was creamy and smooth while the boucheron, a goat’s milk cheese, was a little more pungent but very tasty. The morbier was even more pungent – so much so that we couldn’t even eat it. I told Christine it smelled like feet. She said she didn’t mind that because she loves stinky cheese. But after smelling it, she described it as something dead and rotting in the ocean. I think we finally agreed that it smelled like feet, if you wrapped the feet in a dead jellyfish and let it sit in the sun on the beach for a week. In retrospect, perhaps we got a bad block of cheese, so we just stuck with the two other cheeses and the fruit and it all went very well with the wine.

After the appetizer, I started preparing the main course and side dish. I prepared the beef for the grill and, at Christine’s suggestion, put some sliced zucchini in a foil packet with some olive oil, graded ginger and garlic. I also threw in some seasoning – Trade Joe’s 21 Seasoning Salute to be exact – which added a nice zing. I wasn’t going to make the zucchini, but we had it to use and Christine is always pushing the healthy stuff on me. I put the beef and zucchini on the grill and prepared the rest of the salad ingredients, including some shredded mint from our backyard. After six minutes I turned the beef, let it cook for another six minutes, and then took it and the zucchini off the grill. I sliced the beef and added it to the other ingredients in the salad. I plated it up and we sat down to dinner. The wine went very well with the myriad of flavors in the salad and we finished the bottle. (Note from Christine: This was one of my most favorite meals so far – try it!)

After the main course, we took a little break and Christine relaxed by the pond while I cleaned up and prepared the dessert. I put some of the pureed mango in stemmed glasses and added watermelon balls with a sprig of mint for garnish. The dessert was cool, light and refreshing - a perfect ending to another great meal.

Here’s a quick preview of next month. I’ll be doing barbecued pork ribs to go with a zinfandel, and I might just have a recipe from a special guest contributor to this guest contributor. Check in and see how it turns out.

The Sweetly Logical Fallacy

When I do wine tastings, a lot of people say, “I don’t like dry wines – I only like sweet wines.” There’s nothing inherently wrong with liking sweet wine. A person’s taste is…well…personal. However, the notion of a wine as either “dry” or “sweet” is little more than a logical fallacy – the same fallacy used so effectively by certain political parties: the false dichotomy.

In case you haven’t taken a philosophy class lately, a false dichotomy is presenting two alternatives as an either-or choice, even though other alternatives exist. “You’re either with us or against us” is a classic example, because rarely are things that clear cut. (Unless you’re a Teabagger …)

Yes, one can think of “dry” and “sweet” as the ends of a range, but using “dry” and “sweet” as the way to describe a wine is a false choice. Why? Because not only are there countless shades of gray in between the two, but there are also other ranges that play into wine’s flavor that get lumped into “dry” or “sweet” – so one can’t simply isolate the level of sugar and call it a description.

When most people start learning about wine, they gravitate towards the varietals they’ve heard people talk about over and over: cabernet sauvignon, chardonnay, white zinfandel. For many, the first experience with red wine is with big ol’ California cabs, and the high level of tannins isn’t an easy thing to deal with initially. So, after what probably wasn’t a pleasant experience, they ask someone about the wine and get “Oh, red wines are dry wines. That’s why they taste so strong.”

There’s a similar effect with chardonnay, especially California chardonnay. A mouthful of butter-covered charcoal can be a rough start. (Yes, oaky chardonnays are tannic whites.) They hear, “Yep. Chardonnay. That’s a dry white wine.” Our poor newbie then turns to the bottle of Beringer White Zin. It tastes sweet and easy to drink (and brings back memories of high school Boone’s Farm adventures) – so they stick with pink syrup and now have a prejudice against a huge slice of the wine world.

Seriously, think about how bitter your first espresso was. Coffee’s bitterness also comes from tannins. (Mine was in a coffee shop in the Mission District of San Francisco. Took me 45 minutes to drink the damned thing…and it wasn’t exactly enjoyable.) While the bitterness of tannin can have a “drying” effect – it’s not what makes a wine “dry.” A wine’s dryness or sweetness comes from sugar, not tannin.

Think about how wine is made. As I’ve mentioned before, when yeast is added to the grape’s juice, the yeast eats the sugar, farts carbon dioxide, and pisses alcohol (until it dies of either starvation or alcohol poisoning). If the yeast consumes all of the sugar in a vat of juice, the wine is totally dry. When a winemaker stops the fermentation before all the sugar is consumed, what’s left over is the residual sugar. The more residual sugar, the greater the level of sweetness. If you’re looking at the specs on a bottle of wine, the amount of residual sugar is either presented as a percentage or in grams per liter. (Take g/l, divide by 10, and stick a % on the end if you want to convert.) Dry wines will be under 1% residual sugar, if they have any at all. Off-dry wines will be between 1-5%. Sweet wines will be 5% and up. Also, the higher the residual sugar, in general, the lower the alcohol content.

Why would a winemaker leave residual sugar in a wine? A winemaker worth his or her salt strives for balance in wine. The balance of dry and sweet is an important factor. Too much sugar and the sweetness overwhelm everything else. Not enough and other flavors can take over, rendering a wine unpleasant. The balance for sweetness is acidity. To keep a sweeter wine balanced, the acid level needs to go up. Too little acid and too much sugar makes for a white zinfandelish experience.

As for red wines, “dry” and “sweet” don’t really apply, since there are very few “sweet” reds. Most red wines contain virtually no residual sugar. If you’re describing a red, you’re going to be more interested in the level of tannin than the sweetness, so there’s not really a complement to the “dry” of tannin – other than “not tannic.”

(There’s also another reason why winemakers leave residual sugar. There’s an old saying: “A little sugar covers a lot of flaws.” These winemakers are either unlucky or lazy.)

But let’s get back to the whole dry/sweet question. Stepping outside the world of White Zinfandel, word association with “sweet wine” usually lands on Riesling. If we just want to look at the real difference between sweet and dry, white wine is the easiest place to get an illustration – Riesling especially. While the fruit and other flavor characteristics are certainly varied, let’s just focus on the sugar levels for now. I looked at three Rieslings.:

• Pierre Sparr 2008 Riesling Alsace (bone dry)
• D’Arenberg 2007 “The Dry Dam” Riesling (off-dry)
• Mönchof 2006 Estate Riesling QbA (sweet)

If you decide to try these side-by-side-by side, start with the driest and work your way to the sweetest. Pour, swirl, and sip. The differences will literally leap out of the glass at you.

First, the Pierre Sparr. A lot of folks have “tooth achingly sweet” as their mental reference for Riesling. A sip of this will throw that notion out the window. There’s almost no sweetness to this wine at all. There’s plenty of fruit and a little bit of a mineral finish, but the yeast has done its work here. This is common with Rieslings (and most other whites) from Alsace. The general wine style is very dry. Residual Sugar – basically none.

Secondly, try the D’Arenberg. This is a good example of a wine that’s “off-dry,” which means that there’s a little bit of residual sugar as a balancing agent for the other flavors. In this case, the D’Arenberg is a fairly acidic wine, so a little residual sugar tames the tart “bite” that acidic wines often have. The sugar is more of an honey undertone than sweetness right up in your face. Residual sugar – 1.1%

Finally, the Mönchof. You could certainly class this one as a sweet wine. The residual sugar level is about 5%, which also yields a lower-alcohol wine. The acid level is similar to the D’Arenberg – but the acid in this case prevents the wine from becoming syrupy. If you want a general idea of the level of sweetness and flavor, think baked apples with a little less sugar. It’s still reasonably well-balanced and quite pleasant. (And, at under 10% alcohol, you could almost have it for breakfast.)

To go back to the beginning, to help someone transition away from the world of Black Tower, Beringer, and other such syrups, I’ll usually slide something along the lines of the D’Arenberg or a friendly sauvignon blanc. I might then let them try a merlot or zinfandel if they’re willing to go red. Once they’ve made that transition, it’s a quick jump to broadening the horizons – which is the point of trying new wines, after all…

Cherries Jubilee II – Electric Boogaloo

Some of you may remember the happiness that was our “Cherries Jubilee” dinner. As a refresher, the Sweet Partner in Crime and I were lucky enough to inherit a couple of cherry trees when we bought our house. These trees produced absolutely delicious pie cherries year after year. The previous owners of the house never picked the cherries, apparently. One of our cross-alley neighbors told us that her mother used to look out from the back porch and bemoan the fact that “all of those beautiful cherries are going to waste.”

Well, we certainly weren’t going to let that happen again.

Unfortunately, last year, one of the two cherry trees bit the dust. Whether it was lingering effects from the drought a few years back, disease, or that it was just its time, we had to take the old boy down, leaving one very misshapen tree.

Enter Christine the Pie Queen, her husband Jeff (whom you know from the “dinner of the month” guest column series), and a couple of their friends from Wisconsin – who just happened to own an orchard. The orchard owners agreed to come over last winter and do some tree surgery, pruning the remaining tree into a shape where it might have a change for survival. We held our breath and waited for spring.

The tree apparently survived and enjoyed its “haircut” – this year, the tree was not only extremely healthy, but produced an embarrassment of riches cherry-wise. We gave quarts and quarts away, but not before keeping enough to do another cherry dinner with Jeff & Christine.

We started with Jeff’s ”cherry cocktails.” We were a bit skeptical at first, but this mélange of citrus vodka and cava, garnished with bourbon-soaked cherries was also delightfully refreshing. This was served with an amuse-bouche of pesto-stuffed mushrooms. (Yeah, one dish without cherries…so it goes.) We lingered over these tasties for awhile before heading to the dinner table.

The Sweet Partner in Crime followed up with a fresh arugula salad with apples, toasted walnuts, goat cheese and dried cherries. We opened a bottle of Villa Maria 2008 Riesling from New Zealand to go alongside. The Riesling brought a little sweetness to set off the bitterness of the greens and the tartness of the cherries. Needless to say…yum.

We took a pause here for a palate cleanser. Christine had done a tart cherry granita, a wonderfully refreshing little palate awakener – and perfect for an evening with temperatures in the nineties.

The entrée – well, there are few things in the world that go better with cherries than duck, so we decided to prepare a quacking good course. Duck breasts with shallot and dried cherry sauce over saffron rice pilaf. We paired this with the Casa Marin 2006 Litoral Vineyard Pinot Noir. Considering the noises of sheer yummitude coming from around the table, I think the whole shebang ended up tasting pretty good. As a general rule, almost any kind of food that incorporates cherry flavors will be good with pinot noir, especially good pinot noir.

Finally, whatever sacrifices Christine made to the Pie Goddess were obviously warmly accepted, because the confection she put together was one of her best. Cherry pie. Plain and simple. And just about perfect. Alongside, a delectable dessert wine: Dashe 2007 Late Harvest Zinfandel. Neither pie nor wine lasted very long, and I opened a Frangipani 2004 Late Harvest Zinfandel to finish off the evening. It was good, but it wasn’t nearly as tasty as the Dashe. Still, by that point in the evening, going with something that didn’t require too much thought (considering our collective level of cognitive function by this point) was probably the best strategic move.

All in all, cherry-covered decadence and delightful anticipation for next year…

Fraud, Wine, Porn, Cash.

Some of you may remember the piece I wrote a bit ago about the wines of adult film actress Savanna Samson. Savanna was goodly enough to give me a chance to interview her. I didn't, however, find her wines particularly good -- which put me at odds with Robert Parker. Parker's 90+ score on her first wine gave her instant street cred in the wine world.

Fast forward a bit. Vine reader (and Phi Kappa Sigma fraternity brother) Nate L. forwarded me this article from Slate about the sale of high-end counterfeit wine. This article intertwines with the central story in the excellent read "The Billionaire's Vinegar." (This is a must read for wine aficionados and history buffs alike.)

In any case, one of the first names in the article is Daniel Oliveros, which sounded very familiar to me for some reason. I should have known it immediately -- but that's Savanna Samson's husband (her married name is Natalie Oliveros), and this little conspiratorial exercise in selling fake wine involved not only Oliveros, but Parker as well.

I don't want to cast too many aspersions here -- and I don't want to engage to fully in the sort of guilt-by-association stuff that so many other folks use as "journalism," but I've learned enough to know that the world of high wine Illuminati is a very small one.

Savanna's wine was an Italian red. According to her, Parker was tasting Chateauneuf-de-Pape at the time and happened to agree to give Savanna's wine a taste while he was in the midst of going through that spread. It seems quite the lucky coincidence that Savanna a) was able to squeeze her wine into this tasting, even though it was unrelated and b) that she just happened to be in the same place to garner such high praise from Parker.

I've got no problem with someone using his or her connections. This is a world of shameless self-promotion, after all -- but, at least in my mind, this calls into question a lot of the "objectivity" of the folks who move the wine world with a swirl of a glass.

Juice Box Wines

I’ve written a couple of times before about box wines. Many of them are excellent values for everyday drinking. The only drawback to them is that they tend to be…well…boxy. The usual size of these is three liters, which is the equivalent of four bottles. The packaging is ingenious, since it’s basically airtight and wines will last a long time, especially while refrigerated.

One drawback, however -- while that size is handy to have around the house, it’s not particularly portable. Smaller versions have been popping up in some stores. J-Mac (not to be confused with J-Woww), one of the Vine’s regular readers, suggested: “It's summer, buy a couple of those "juice boxes," and have a picnic…” Not a bad idea!

The smaller versions come most frequently in one-liter containers, so there's an extra glass or so per carton compared to a regular bottle. You also can find them in 500 ml or 250 ml sizes, so they do start to approach the size of a Capri Sun. If you've got kids and you buy some of these, make sure you check closely when packing lunch. I’m not sure how well pinot grigio pairs with 4^th grade civics.

These packages are also considerably lighter than glass bottles, so they make much more sense when you’re heading out to the local park, woods, levee, or anywhere else you may want to spread a blanket and enjoy some good company. In Europe, winemakers have been putting out this kind of smaller packaging for years, but it’s yet to catch on in the U.S. (although I think that will probably change in the future).

I headed to the local beverage superstore and picked out a few of these to sample. Here’s what I came home with:

Three Thieves "Bandit" 2008 California Pinot Grigio -- not half bad. Pleasantly peachy nose. Fairly substantial for a pinot grigio. Some weight to the palate with apple and peach flavors. A little bit of residual sugar, clearly. The finish is fruity and slightly sweet. It's not as acidic or tart as many pinot grigios, but I don't think that's the idea here. The purpose is clearly to create a wine that is food-friendly and inoffensive. Success recorded. For $5-8 a liter, an excellent value, especially when you're comparing it to other bottles of pinot grigio in the $4-6 range. It blows those away.

Vendange "Tetra Pak" (NV) California Chardonnay -- There's a saying I've heard somewhere in my travels: "A little bit of sugar covers a whole lot of flaws." This Vendange is a lovely illustration of just that. Since it's inexpensive California chardonnay, I expected either a load of oak or cream, with some fruit. I was one for three. Very little, if any, oak. No butter. Some pear flavors, but the nose is odd, and there's a residual sweetness that's probably there to cover the fact that, well, not a lot of care went into the making of this wine. It's leftover juice, fermented, sweetened a bit, and packed up to sell at about six bucks a liter. After a glass, my stomach hurt a bit. Give it a pass unless you're making spritzers.

French Rabbit 2004 Vin de Pays d'Oc Pinot Noir -- I'll admit I was looking forward to a portable pinot. I didn't have high expectations, of course. I just hoped for a light, food-friendly red that I'd be able to put a little bit of a chill on and slug on. Cracked it, poured it...and almost spit my mouthful across the monitor. This was an absolutely horrible wine. The whole point of having one of these "tetra paks" is that a wine is supposed to stay fresh. If this was "fresh" wine, I don't know who'd like it. Sour, acidic, and horrifically unpleasant. My immediate thought was to take your $8-9 and buy yourself a sixer of Smithwick's or something. You'll be better off. Bleah.

Something nagged at me, though. The Vendange and the French Rabbit seemed so “off” that I couldn’t believe a winery would actually send those out into the world. I was at my local Kroger and decided to pop into their wine store. They had the Vendange, but not the French Rabbit. Instead, I picked up the Alice White (NV) South Eastern Australian Shiraz.

The Alice White was, for all intents and purposes, the same as the Alice White that you’d get in a bottle. Straightforward, fruity, drinkable, and non-thinkable. Decent enough if no one’s looking. But my second go-round with the Vendange was a different experience. There was less sweetness and none of the weird nose. It still wasn’t my favorite chardonnay – even at that price point – but it was much more palatable.

So, what happened? My theory – the inexpensive wines are the ones handled with the least care. At some point along the line, these containers were probably left to sit in a hot truck or on a hot palette somewhere – and the wine began to turn to vinegar. In the French Rabbit’s case, that process was rather far along, I think.

I won’t name names, but I’ve had “vinegarized” box wine on a couple of other occasions from this same beverage superstore. I would be willing to give the French Rabbit another try, but I haven’t been able to locate it anywhere else around here. I’ll update this entry when I get the chance to give it another go.

Just the same, like many of the inexpensive wines out there, as long as you don’t need to think too much about what you’re drinking, you can probably find something at least decently quaffable to pack along in a cooler or a basket. No breakage, no worries, and easy cleanup. Any of you have experience with these you’d like to share?

Quickie: In Praise of Unsolicited Recommendations

I’ll readily admit that I don’t always remember all the names of folks who come to the table when I’m doing a tasting. Talking to these folks, I often will get recommendations that I’ll try, but I often won’t get a chance to thank that person.

Such was the case with this Sella & Mosca 2005 Cannonau di Sardegna Riserva. This wine was recommended by a very knowledgeable woman I spoke with in the Covington DEP’s, but I have absolutely no memory of her name, unfortunately.

Cannonau is a grape grown mostly in Southern Italy (this one’s from Sardinia, surprise, surprise…). It makes generally light reds that can resemble Chianti, but there’s not usually so much of a chalky quality. She told me, “Just try this. It’s not spectacular, but for the price and an Italian meal, it’s killer.”

Well, I tried it. I made ribollita the other night and cracked open this bottle. It turned out to be a wonderful pairing.

So, many thanks to you, whoever you were. I sure appreciated your insight – just as I’m happy to take recommendations from any of you out there who have some ideas. Have a couple of columns coming down the pike based on just those, so stay tuned…

A Day In The Life

I was talking to the Sweet Partner in Crime over dinner this evening (bulgogi-style chicken, fish sauce-soaked cucumbers, kimchi, and a tasty Brancott Sauvignon Blanc if you're curious) and I was feeling a little down. I got nominated for the international Wine Blog Awards, and I wasn't named one of the five finalists. Honestly, I was pretty disappointed, especially after I looked at the finalists and figured I could write circles around a couple of them. I was gritting my teeth a little that people didn't recognize.

When I started this little wine blogging adventure of mine, I had no idea where it would lead. Sure, I had "Julie & Julia" fantasies that I've mentioned before -- that someone from the Food Network would stumble across the Naked Vine one day, be so impressed that they'd ask me to take my "sommelier for the common man" act on the road, and people would know my bald pate all over the place.

I think I do what I do pretty damned well. But every single writer I've ever known who's published publicly does as well. While there may be nothing new under the sun, every writer thinks that he or she has a unique take, even if it's a topic that's been covered a million times before. It's like the old guitar joke:

Q. How many lead guitarists does it take to screw in a light bulb?

A. Four. One to screw in the bulb, and three to say, "I could do it better."

Anyway, there are now thousands of wine blogs on the Internets, and there are a fair number of good writers. Complicating matters, I'm a bit of a throwback. I'm not much on social media. Hell, I have an actual job, people...I'm at a loss as to how people have time to work, tweet 200 times a day, and harvest their Farmville crops. I'm more interested in getting in print than being a Twitter trending topic. I also lack the energy to play the grip and greet game, so I don't know too many of the "people who know people."

Leave it to the SPinC to give me some perspective. She looked me right in the face during the midst of my little rant and asked me, "Do you still enjoy doing this?" In a typical display of my brilliant repartee, I looked right back at her and said, "Huh?"

"Really, why are you doing this? Are you having fun, or is this just something that you're doing to try to get people to give your site hits?"

I've learned one thing over the last eight-plus years. When the lady's right, she's right.

Every now and again, it's really is a good thing to count your blessings. Ever since my conversation with Scott so many years ago, this little endeavor of mine has allowed me to meet some pretty damned cool people, exposed me to a body of knowledge and science that I didn't fully understand, got me the occasional wine sample, and is something I take pride in.

So yeah, I do have fun, especially when I get on opportunity like last weekend. D.E.P's Fine Wine and Spirits let me have the run of their tasting table for their weekend tastings. I decided to do a live version of my last column.

I had a great time talking with people about the wines and why I found them interesting. I used to worry that I sounded like a complete clod, and while I still may, at least I'm a semi-authoritative clod, and most people walked away from the table with a bottle or two in their hands and a smile on their face, so I must have been doing something right. Since I have that little victory under my belt, I give you, straight from the soundboard, my picks:

I poured a pinot grigio next to a pinot gris to illustrate the difference. I had the Kris 2008 Pinot Grigio from Italy ($13) and the King Estates 2008 Pinot Gris from Oregon. The Kris was light, crisp, and full of citrus. A great lawnmower wine. The King Estates was fuller, had some softer fruit and had a honey-ish sweetness. I found it an instructive contrast between the two styles of the same grape.

I'd picked out a pinot noir to go between the two contrasts, but K2 let me know that there wasn't enough of the one I'd picked, so he substituted the Underwood Cellars 2008 Pinot Noir instead. This was a super-light pinot. Some nice cherry flavors out of such a light body. Not as much smoke and depth as I'd usually like. I prefer my pinots a little bit heavier, but it was certainly drinkable. At $10, a pretty decent value.

The last two wines I did was the syrah/shiraz comparison. I had the Gordon Brothers 2005 Syrah ($17) set up next to the Torbreck "The Woodcutter" 2006 Shiraz. ($19) The Gordon Brothers is from Columbia Valley in Washington State. It took a little while to open up, but once it did...yum. A somewhat restrained syrah, there were layers of dark fruit, coffee, and chocolate. As I told more than one person, "Pour a glass of this and get some dark chocolate, have some of both, and just lay back and let it happen..." The Torbreck was a typical ballsy Aussie shiraz. Lots of fruit with enough backbone to keep it from being a mess. Lots of in your face flavors that pair well with anything on a grill.

Like most writers, I fall into the trap of taking myself too seriously -- but yes, this is still fun, especially because of all of you out there -- both those who I've met and those I haven't. Thanks to all of you who came by the tasting to visit, that regularly read me or who have stumbled over here for the first time. From the bottom of my heart, I appreciate you letting me share this little experiment with you. You guys make my life better. Thank you.

Guest Column – Wine & Dinner of the Month Club – May

It’s May, and spring is in the air. Summer is just around the corner and that can mean only one thing–it’s grillin’ time. This is the first wine and dinner of the month that used the grill and the results were excellent. We had a nice Asian grilled chicken, Thai inspired salad and a yummy desert, all washed down with a great wine.

Menu
Asian Sugar Snap Pea Appetizer

Grilled Asian Chicken

Green Salad with Mandarin Orange Slices and Peanuts

Banana Spring Rolls

Wine
2008 Maso Canali Pinot Grigio

I started preparing the meal by making the sugar snap pea appetizer. You can serve this hot, but I preferred to let it cool to room temperature, which allowed me to make it ahead of time and not be as rushed to get everything together at once. I served the peas as a side dish and coolness of the peas provided a nice contrast to the warm chicken. Another time saving step was to plate the salad greens ahead of time and put them in the refrigerator, ready for their final preparations.

Once I started the meal in earnest, preparation went pretty quickly. The chicken needed to marinate for about 15 minutes in a fairly simple sauce, so that was a perfect time to start cooking the jasmine rice over which the chicken would be served. But perfection is not my forte and I, unthinkingly, actually started the rice before preparing the marinade. So the rice sat in the pot a while, but it stayed warm and was none the worse for it. The lesson learned there was to give a little thought to timing.

After the chicken was done marinating I put them on the grill at high for six minutes per side, basting them with the left over marinade. I brought them into the house and Christine asked if they were done. I said, “Sure they are!” indignantly. Christine had suffered from food poisoning in college so she is a little paranoid about underdone chicken and convinced me to cut into one to check. Good thing she did because the thicker parts of the chicken breasts were just barely cooked. In my concern to avoid overcooking I had pulled them off too early. Properly chastised, I put the chicken back on the grill for two minutes more per side. This time they came off safely done and also moist and tender. The lessons learned here are to always check the chicken for doneness and listen to your wife when she is trying to keep you from giving both of you food poisoning.

I plated up the chicken over the rice with the sugar snap peas on the side. We opened the chilled wine and sat down to dinner.

Both the sugar snap peas and the chicken marinade had some ginger in them, but just enough to be flavorful without being overwhelming. The sugar snap peas also had a dusting of toasted sesame seeds which gave them a nice nutty flavor. The wine was crisp with flavors of citrus and maybe a little green apple, and was not overly dry. It had just enough residual sweetness to complement both the chicken and the side dish.

After the main course I prepared the salads by topping them with canned mandarin orange slices and peanuts to give them an Asian flair. The dressing was a simple soy ginger dressing from a bottle. The wine went very well with the salad.

After the salads we took a little break from the meal and I took some time to clean up the kitchen before starting the dessert. The dessert is very simple but provided a tense moment and then comic relief. The whole idea is to wrap bananas and brown sugar in spring roll wrappers and deep fry them. I have never used spring roll wrappers and when I opened the package they looked like floppy plastic discs. “Oh, well,” I thought, “they must work.” So I tried rolling one and it broke in several pieces. Stupidity being defined as doing the same thing over and expecting a different result, I was pretty stupid because I broke three more (as if by sheer strength of will I could make them work) before Christine got on the internet and looked up how to use them. The trick is to moisten them and then they become almost papery and sticky.

Having figured this out, I rolled up the bananas with the brown sugar and put them in hot oil to deep fry. I only left them in for about 15 seconds per side, but that was actually too long and burned them a little. I would recommend putting them in the oil for only a few seconds and rolling them around until they are cooked to a nice golden brown. I put them in bowls and after letting them cool a little added vanilla ice cream and a little whipped topping.

The brown sugar had caramelized inside the spring roll wrapper and that, combined with the soft banana and crispy outer coating made for a delicious ending to the meal. The only real problem was that the spring roll wrappers were a little too big for the banana pieces which created some thickness on the ends and made that part of the rolls a little chewy. If I had it to do again, I would trim the wrappers to reduce the size.

The Naked Vine -- Live!

A special message for Vine readers in the Cincinnati metro area (and beyond if you want to make a road trip!) :

Come join me at D.E.P.'s Fine Wine (formerly Liquor Direct) in Covington and Ft. Thomas on Friday and Saturday, respectively. I'll be doing a live demonstration based on my last column -- I'll be demonstrating my take on the differences between Pinot Grigio & Pinot Gris and Syrah & Shiraz. I'll throw in a pinot noir for good measure.

No cost, either...Free is good! I'll be at the Covington store from 4-8 pm on Friday evening and at the Ft. Thomas location from 2-6 on Saturday afternoon. Come on by, say hello, and the tastes are on me. Well, at least the tastes are *by* me...

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.

Guest Column: Wine & Dinner of the Month Club -- April

We’re back with the April installment of the Wine/Dinner of the Month Club for my lovely Christine. This month we took a trip to a Kentucky state park for a little weekend R&R. I don’t think the state parks allow alcohol so I can’t divulge the actual location, but it rhymes with Pine Mountain. We rented a log cabin which comes with a small kitchen outfitted with limited equipment, so we had to bring some of our own cookware and all of necessary ingredients for the meal. The wine this month was a dry, sparkler, which regular readers of TNV know is a very versatile wine, pairing with many different kinds of food. We decided on a brunch menu. Due to the limitations of the cabin kitchen, I kept it fairly simple, but the results were delicious and the wine was a delight.

Menu
Easy Quiche
Ten Minute Cinnamon Rolls
Sautéed asparagus

Wine
Les Rocailles Brut Sparkling Wine

I started by making the cinnamon rolls. About half-way through I realized we did not bring enough butter for the entire meal, so I sent Christine to the grocery store in town while I continued to work. The prep on the rolls took only about 15 minutes and they bake up in about 10 minutes, so I set the unbaked rolls aside while I made the quiche. As you can see, the recipe for the quiche is very simple with everything being mixed in one big bowl and then poured into a pie pan for baking. Baking the quiche took about 50 minutes, which gave me time to do a little clean up, and about ten minutes before it was done, I sautéed the asparagus. As you can see from the picture, the quiche came out lightly browned and bubbly-licious (yes, that’s a real word).

We plated everything up and had brunch on the cabin’s outer deck. We both loved the wine, the bubbles cutting through the egg and cheese of the quiche, letting all the flavors come through. It also went very well with the asparagus. But what about the cinnamon rolls?

After the quiche, we took a little break while I baked up the rolls. These are not the cinnamon rolls you may remember grandma making. There is no yeast in the mix so they come out more like cinnamon biscuits, but they are still very tasty. They came out of the oven golden brown and we let them cool just slightly before trying them with a little of the sparkling wine. I don’t think the sparkling wine was a particularly good match for the rolls. The sweetness of the rolls really overwhelmed the dryness of the wine. They were much better with the coffee we brewed up in the cabin’s drip coffee maker.

After the quiche, asparagus, rolls, coffee and a bottle of wine between the two of us, we took a long afternoon nap, like the slugs we were that weekend.


If I had to do anything different, I would have started the quiche and then made the cinnamon rolls. The 50 minutes it took to bake the quiche would have given me plenty of time to prep the rolls so they could be popped into the oven as soon as the quiche came out. No matter, it was still a great meal that kicked off a great weekend away. Next month we’ll no doubt be back at home with another delicious meal and wine pairing. Check back in to see what’s cooking!

The Alphabet Soup Project: "C" is for "Cooperage"

One of many wine-related befuddlements is trying to understand what the big deal is about oak. If you listen to some wine folks at (usually higher-end) tastings, as part of the oenological word salad that they're coming out with -- they make reference to oak, the amount of time spent in oak, oaky flavors, American oak, French oak, poison oak (well, maybe not), and occasionally "unoaked." I have a basic knowledge -- oak gives certain character to wines and the longer a wine spends in oak while in the aging stage after fermentation, the more pronounced those flavors flavor usually are. However, the subtle variations leave me rather lost in the forest for the trees.

[Please note: The Naked Vine takes no responsibility for any injury stemming from physical reactions to the bad metaphor in the last line. It just needed to be said.]

Let's start with the basics. Why age wine in barrels in the first place? They're potentially leaky, allow wine to evaporate, and grow and shrink with changes in temperature and humidity. We can make larger, cheaper containers out of steel or glass or polyurethane these days. Why do we insist on keeping this old tradition alive?

The main reason? It works. The barrel can be as much a part of a wine as the method of fermentation, the terroir, or the grape itself in some cases. When a wine is barrel aged, a number of things happen. First, wood is water-soluble. Even though the inside of a barrel is "toasted" to cure the wood, wine will invariably seep into the wood. The newly fermented wine absorbs various chemical compounds from the wood itself.

Also, barrel aging allows a slow oxidation of wine. Oxidation is why we swirl wine -- helping bring out certain flavors. Alcohol evaporates when exposed to oxygen, so some of the vapors find their way out through cracks in the wood. As the alcohol evaporates, the level of wine in the barrel drops. (In whiskey parlance, the evaporated alcohol is called "the angel's share.") Winemakers "top up" barrels with additional wine during the time in barrel.

Both of these actions add certain flavors and augment existing flavors in a wine. Tannins tend to get softened a bit in red wines, and both reds and whites gain complexity through the process.

The type of wood used in the making of the barrels plays a major role. ("Cooperage," in case you were wondering, is the making of barrels.) American oak, being a less dense wood than French oak, allows more seepage, thus imparting more characteristics from the barrel. New barrels impart more flavors than old barrels. Some varietals pick up more character from wood than others. The longer the wine stays in contact with the wood, the more flavor it picks up.

Some wines are aged entirely in one type of barrel. These are the ones you hear referred to as "100% American oak" and the like. Some batches of wine are aged piecemeal in several types of oak. Some are aged partly in oak and partly in stainless steel, cement or some other storage medium. (Some winemakers also cheat. Rather than truly barrel-aging, they age wines in steel tanks and add toasted oak chips to impart these character. This is a more cost-effective method, but it doesn't work as well...) All of these factors go into the winemaking process. A winemaker will determine what kind of wood, length of time, etc. will add the desired characteristics.

I asked some of my pals in the "biz" for their thoughts about the various types of oak. Their thoughts:

Danny Gold from The Party Source: "American oak can smother wines and make wines such as Chardonnay taste like 4x4's where a Chardonnay aged in French will be more floral with vanilla undertones. [I think] American oak will give a wine a woody backbone while French oak will give it romance."

Kevin Keith from D.E.P's Fine Wines: "I have often thought of it as a difference between deer meat from this area as opposed to Pacific Northwest or Cali. Around here, deer are corn fed so their meat is sweeter. I know that is weird. You could also think of it as American oak imparting a cocoa/vanilla spice as opposed to French lending more nutmeg and cinnamon."

What does this mean in real terms? Chardonnay (as Danny mentions above) may be the easiest way to examine the distinction. Chardonnay is the oenological version of vodka. It's the blank canvas that really takes on the character of where it's grown and how it's made. When it comes to oaky chardonnays, California's versions immediately pop to mind.

I did a little research and found four California chardonnays -- two aged in American oak and two in French -- all in the $10-15 range, so you could easily try this at home. I tried Kendall Jackson 2008 Vintner's Reserve Chardonnay, Bogle 2008 Chardonnay, Francis Coppola 2008 Gold Label Chardonnay, and Heron 2007 Chardonnay. The Bogle is 100% aged in American oak. The K-J is a mix of American and French. The Heron and Coppola were a 50/50 blend of French oak and stainless steel.

Now, this obviously isn't a truly scientific experiment. My pal Jim Voltz from Bond Street Imports suggested getting some varietally consistent wines from the same winemaker aged in various ways (and they carry a couple done just that way), but I didn't want to get too far afield...

What did we find? I expected the 50/50 mixes to be less oaky, but I was completely incorrect. Both the Coppola and the Heron were much more "toasty" than the ones aged in American oak. In fact, the Coppola was like drinking a charcoal briquette at first. Like really tannic reds, I think oaky chardonnays need some time in air to let the flavors come out -- otherwise, the oak tends to overwhelm. I thought Danny's observation was spot-on. The greater the percentage of French oak, the stronger the vanilla flavors. Even though American oak tends to impart more flavor, both the K-J and the Bogle were easier to drink overall. The "toasty" taste seemed fuller in the wines made with the French oak. It felt more broadly on my tongue.

The Heron was my favorite of the four, as I thought it had a little more complexity and the oak that was there wasn't as strong. The Heron also didn't do malolactic fermentation, which removed the "buttery" aspect -- so it had a more fruity taste.

The Sweet Partner in Crime had a hard time participating in this little exercise. She cut her white wine teeth on California chardonnays, but now she finds them "too much" for white wines. I also prefer wines that are more crisp than creamy, but I didn't mind these as much as she did.

What's the bottom line? Using oak can allow a winemaker to express his or her vision and wineries produce wines that they think people will enjoy. I just don't have enough experience looking at wines from a "wood" perspective. One observation I can make: French oak barrels are much more expensive than their American counterparts, so if a wine's notes include the use of French oak -- especially in a white wine -- you should be ready for that wine to "show off" the fact that it's been so oaked.

Just for fun, if you're presented with "this wine was aged in French oak," you come back with, "Yes, you can really get the vanilla notes, but the barrel may have been overtoasted," just to see the reaction.