Wine Jabber

Listening Booth

I've added the "Listening Booth" in the right-hand column - an occasionally updated list of music I'm currently listening to or learning. I'm hoping that Apple will make its iTunes affiliation rules somewhat easier sometime soon so I can add links directly to songs- right now, it's a bit of a pain ... in the meantime, enjoy.

Christmas 2007

Christmas Eve, I have 10 guests for dinner. C & C show up with their two sons A & R before dinner for a drink (pic). For dinner, good friends all: H & T From next door, C & MB with their four sons, M and K - We start off with Aubry's Brut Champagne "Ivoire et Ebene" - sweetly delicious. After the first course, the three younger boys retire to watch a movie - we continue full-throttle with a Roast leg of Lamb, with polenta, seared kale and mushrooms. By the end of the meal, we're all howling with laughter, and decide that the best way to celebrate the season is to watch the original South Park short - the infamous "Jesus vs. Santa Claus" project. I love the sweet colorforms kids with serious pottymouth.

2 Wines from Magnum. Some End-of-Year thoughts.

Last night, H & T have much of her family in town - T is preparing a pasta feast, and I'm invited. Woo-Hoo! I've known H's dad (Daddy R), stepmom (the Orc) and brother (TC) since college, and it is a great pleasure to catch up and reconnect. T prepares three sauces: A basic pomodoro, a pomodoro with pancetta, and a bechamel with chicken, with gnocchi and linguine. Talk about great. I bring over two magnums. Also on hand, along with other family members, are TC's wife and two kids, in from Park City, Utah, where wine is a mighty difficult necessity to acquire, poor dears - I have a gummi-bear conference with the younger son after dinner. As in: which part of the gummi bear does one bite off first? Is the head tastier than the butt? And does one change the order for certain colors? Good questions, all. We raid T's gummi-bear stash and begin scientific inquiries.

The next day, writing this, with a fire going and the cat sleeping in front of the woodstove. I've spent all day in the kitchen, prepping for Christmas Eve - 12 people will be here for dinner and it will be fabulous. I made a bolognese sauce for the pasta course, and prepped all the veg and meat for tomorrow's dinner. Roasted lamb with a shiitake mushroom sauce, with seared garlic-drenched kale and polenta. Should be quite lovely.

Though I don't celebrate Christmas, I find it to be a great time for reflection and thanks, not unlike Thanksgiving (also known as Throgsgafen here at the "Manley Manor for Wayward Boys and Girls" - has anyone read Irving's "The Water-Method Man?). As the end of a difficult year draws near, I an thankful for the friends that have been present and supportive this last year, and to all the people who've told me - in person, via email, or by posting a comment here - how much they love or hate, agree or disagree, are irritated or charmed by Winejabber and my writing. One of my favorites, which helped me find the voice of this blog, was said to me after my fourth or fifth post went up: "it's like a life, with wine." I appreciate all the comments and look forward to a great 2008. Many thanks to all, wishing you peace and prosperity for the new year -

warm regards,

Alan

1997 Caparzo, Brunello di Montalcino "La Casa," magnum
Sangiovese can be a problematic grape. If it is not fully ripe, or mishandled during harvest and vinification, it can be harsh, green (piney) and overly metallic. Caparzo is generally a good producer, but I've had regular bottlings that were fit to cook with and not much more. This 1997, however, reflects the awesome vintage in Tuscany, and the depth and complexity that Sangiovese can reach. The "La Casa" vineyard is the estate's single-vineyard bottling, and the vines are located on the Montosoli hill, which also produces Altesino's top single-vineyard wine. The winery and the Montosoli hill are located in the northern part of the Brunello zone, which produces, for my taste, wines of greater complexity and depth - compared to the sun-drenched southern half of the zone, the northern wines are more austere and elegant. This wine could still, at ten years old, sit a few more years, though if it will get significantly better is open to debate. It possesses delicious red cherry, raspberry and chocolate, with significant mineral, cedar and earth elements that I love in great Brunello. On the palate, the mix of fruit and milk chocolate is wicked delicious. The wine is incredibly smooth and velvety in the mouth, even though the tannins, which are well-balanced and mostly evolved, could do with another year in bottle - but 750 ml bottles of this wine should be on everyone's "drink now" list. Nice finish, all silk, minerals and cherries. (4.0+nb)

1997 Bartolo Mascarello, Barolo, magnum
The Bartolo Mascarello winery is one of the great bastions of traditional winemaking in the Piedmont - and has resisted all change toward modernism even after the death of Bartolo two years ago. His daughter Marie-Therese runs the estate exactly as her father did with an iron hand. No compromises are made here, ever, ever, ever. The 1997 is still backward and tannic, and needs more time, especially in relation to the über-smooth Caparzo we'd just finished. The Mascarello nose was all black cherries, earth, tar and roses, with bits of violets and truffle beginning to peek out. This was a big surprise - 750ml bottles of this wine seem to be more ready to drink, but in magnum it is backwards, unyielding and youthful, and somewhat mute. (Mute in the sense that all the flavors and aromas seem to be present, but aren't communicating anything succinct at the moment.) The 1997 vintage, in general, has been in need of reconsideration - even though it got great press, I was never really convinced of the "greatness" of this hot vintage, an opinion confirmed by much discussion and tasting in Piedmont (privately, many vingerons complained of stuck fermentations from the sky-high sugar levels in the grapes, and many of the resultant wines are high-alcohol fruit-bombs). In the last year, I've been opening many '97s as they are reaching their peak ... and many of the traditionally made wines seem to have aged far better than their modernist counterparts. '97s from Rinaldi, Giacosa and Mascarello, especially, seem to have put on some weight and lost much of the baby fat. This Mascarello is no different - it is now big and powerful in the mouth, with the excellent fruit so characteristic of the vintage, but with surprisingly firm tannins and acidity. I will let these magnums sit for another two years before trying one again. The finish still needs time for all the tannins to resolve into velvety goodness. (3.5-nb; 750 ml bottles are currently in the 4.0+ range)

Bustin' Wineglasses!

Amazing what people will do in the name of "science." And an excess of free time.

Duo, 12.17.07

I meet S (the Boulder Som-in-Training) at Duo, the Highlands neighborhood eatery. The chef here, John Broening, was in charge of the Primtivo kitchen for four years. He's consistently excellent - and his Duo menu this season is reminiscent of his Primitivo menus, a bit stripped down and less consciously European (John spent a year cooking in Paris, among other exotic locales).

I walk in a few minutes before S - the bar and dining room are divided by a wall of suspended windowpanes, all rickety and old and with paint peeling, hung haphazardly to imply separation but keeping the space open and airy. John is off tonight (Monday) but as I look at the plates coming up at the window of the semi-open kitchen, they have his trademark bright simplicity and presentation. Four guys seated at the bar are all having the same thing: a grilled pork chop, which all say is: "great, sooo good." By the time we're seated and order, the kitchen is out of this daily special.

S shows up, we're shown to a table next to the sandblasted brick wall. We start with Risotto Fritters for her and Poached Leeks for me. The fritters are beautifully prepared, deliciously briny and salty from gouda and shrimp mixed in with the rice. The leeks are accompanied by bacon and shaved fennel - what dish is not made better by the addition of bacon? Of course, I mean this rhetorically - please don't inundate the comments mailbox with gleeful variants of "ice cream!" or something to that effect. The roasted leeks have that sweet oniony flavor, nicely set off by the smokiness of the bacon and the licorice of anise. A porcini vinaigrette braces everything together. Nice.

We both select the flatiron steak for a main course - this has the slightly liverish and mineral quality that I associate with really good beef. The meat is perfectly caramelized on the outside and the accompanying ragout of cippolini onions and bacon (ahem) is fantastic. I wish there were a bit more of the wilted greens - the two bites of this seemed anemic in relation to the rest of the dish. A celery root and potato gratin was excellent and creamy, the flavors of the celery, potato and cheese melding into a satisfying almost-gooiness. Very nice.

We finish off with a sweet that I neglect to write down (again). S is grilling me on her Som course flashcards - there's a lot for her to learn. By no means do I have all or even most of the answers - humbling, especially on the technical side. It gives me an idea of the knowledge that a structured wine education imparts.

2001 Stefano Inama, "Bradisismo" IGT Veneto
Stefano is one of the funniest and most intelligent people I know making wine - his passions and refusal to compromise come through in both his person and wines. Bradisismo is 70/20/10% Cabernet Sauvignon/Carmenère/Merlot and is an expressive example of wines from the Colli Berici, a series of hills to the south of the city of Vicenza. This one is chock-full of ripe berries and plums, a meaty and mineral midpalate, and vanilla from the oak ageing. Stefano makes this one pretty much ready to drink soon after release, and the 2001 is showing beautifully. Loads of meaty well-extracted fruit on the finish, with soft ripe tannins. This is definitely a new-world styled wine - the influences of garagiste Bordeaux and California cult cabs is evident, without being so self-consciously over-the-top. (3.5+nb)

Here's to Champagne for Real Friends, and Real Pain for Sham Friends

Our annual Champagne tasting was last Saturday. This has been an annual event since the Primitivo days - we'd do an intimate dinner for 18 guests with 20 or so different wines. This year, we elect to do the tasting at La Belle Vie, a nice bistro on the West Side of COS. However, the GM there cannot stop taking rezzies and we end up with 48 reservations. Holy Snot! Some of these wines we only get a case or 6 bottles - so we redo the original pouring plan to make smaller pours of a greater number of wines.

OK. Let's talk about Champagne for a second.

Why is it, when thinking of great wines, we always seem to gravitate towards the ones that are made in minute quantities on the smallest of estates, by dedicated and obsessive grower-producer-winemakers (who tend to know every plant in their vineyards and nook and cranny of their cellars), that exhibit varietal correctness, a keen sense of terroir and vintage, and the unmistakable and unique frisson that is the hallmark of great wines? Because that’s what makes a great wine. Now, here’s the follow-up question: Why is it, when we think of great champagnes, that the first names that come to mind are often those of industrial products made in the millions of cases, by large multi-national conglomerates, robbed of any sense of terroir or varietal characteristic?

Champagne is a wine like any other – the best examples are made from grapes grown in the best vineyards, by small-production, hands-on winemaker-growers, whose connection to their craft is not broken by marketing-driven needs for a “consistent product” that’s chemically stable. Isn't Champagne, at its base, wine as well? From whence the disconnect? To answer my own question: well, I’d venture that the marketing weenies have been rather successful.

Welcome to the topsy-turvy world of Champagne!

Some nice wines; dinner with H & T

December 2007

Neighbors H & T are over for dinner. I’ve known H since 1985 (college), and T since 1997 – he used to come into Primitivo, peruse the wine list for half an hour, and find the ONE thing that I buried in there, at some incredible price, for enthusiasts to find. Because of him, I had to reprint the list far more often than I thought I’d have to. (One of things I am most proud of in my life is that they met at the ‘Vo, and had their wedding reception there.) All of us are feeling that 2008 will bring big changes into our lives. We discuss the possibilities of better opportunities in other communities, the merits of San Francisco over Seattle, the opportunities that have been presented to us over the last few months; what would be gained and what relinquished by accepting. Also: the Dutch painting exhibit at the Met, the Puryear and Seurat shows at the Modern, the Capa/Taro show at ICP that H saw a few months ago, and I just last weekend.

Frasca Truffle Dinner 12.10.07

Frasca, the Boulder restaurant, has been on my radar screen for ages - I've just never made the trip up. Partly, I find Boulder a strange, strange place. It's a bit of a long drive as well ... but Silvia Altare is in town to pour her and her father's wines, and the restaurant has flown white truffles over from Alba for the occasion. Yes, expensive, but Silvia, in no uncertain terms, tells me I will be there. Steve Lewis, the importer, is her co-host for the evening - I've known Steve for ages, and he is a gem. A, from Denver, is accompanying me for the evening. I pick her up in Denver and up to Boulder we go, in a blinding snowstorm.

Frasca bills itself as a Friulian-inspired restaurant, and I'll have to come back to comment on this claim, as this evening's menu is more Piedmontese in outlook - and with a bunch of New American touches in there. There are delicious passed apps during a meet-and-greet; only some of these are particularly Piedmontese. Salami-wrapped grissini (little breadsticks) is delicious and arguably of the region. A tuna tartare is delicious, though more South Beach than Südtyrol, or even Liguria, for that matter. They're pouring the Bellavista nv Brut from magnums. Very nice.

First Course: Maine lobster salad with a crispy soft-boiled egg is wicked delicious - the egg is a delight, and reminds me of another place that uses a soft-boiled egg to great effect in opening a dining experience - Arpege, in Paris. Here, the egg's richness is a counterpoint to the lobster and frisée, and the shaved truffle adds and exotic earthy element. Dining with Silvia in the Piedmont two months earlier, she told me that the typical way to enjoy the white truffle was shaved over a fried egg - and the egg here sets off the truffle more harmoniously than the lobster and frisée. I'm a little baffled by the use of lobster in a Piedmontese dish ... this is a pretty loose interpretation of the Langhe's cuisine, at best. Still, delicious, beautifully presented and satisfying.

New York 12.07

I make the trip to New York to see friends and my sister’s family before the madness of the holidays. Plus there are a heap of great exhibits going on right now that I decide I cannot miss seeing. Martin Puryear sculptures and Seurat drawings at the Modern. The Dutch Paintings exhibit at the Met, along with British Landscape Photos from the 19th century. Gerda Taro and Robert Capa at the ICP. And the big Klimt show at the Neue. Talk about an embarrassment of riches.

I arrive a few hours late (big surprise, airlines, grrrrr) and go to my sister’s apartment, drop the bags, play with my niece and nephew for a bit (E's new boots - nice, huh?), then head uptown to Esca. I’ve written about Esca previously – it seems every time I come here my dinner companion has been spectacularly, breathtakingly lovely, sharp as a carpet tack, and funny – and this poses a bit of a problem for your correspondent. Essentially, I forget to pay attention to both the wine and the food, and sit slack-jawed across from my date, trying not to look like a slobbering idiot. I make a concerted effort, only marginally successful, to not drool. This visit is no different.

Must.Not.Drool … Must.Not.Drool … Must.Not.Drool.

Even Lambchop hates White Zin

White Zinfandel is an abomination, if for no other reason than the fact that good people everywhere are now compelled to say "Red Zinfandel" to distinguish it from its lame-ass sibling. To take a cue from Alejandro Fernandez of Pesquera: "Hombre ... there is only one color of Zinfandel." The people who make White Zin should be taken out and maimed, and then ridiculed into tiny little balls of nothingness. Even Lambchop, that paragon of gentleness, agrees.