Thursday, March 12 2009
Weekly Wined-Up
Bottles not shown actual size. Thank goodness.
It's nice to have a couple of days off the road to catch up on my drinking. I know I just blogged about the big ol' wine dinner at the FGBC, but that hardly counts--it was work! All right, all right, I know most people would prefer that kind of work if they could get it. Ahem.
Starting from the left, it's a bottle of Mission Hill 2006 Reserve Sauvignon Blanc. I'd heard some good things about this wine and I had high hopes. It starts with a nice nose of green apple and red grapefruit, but wasn't well balanced and was too fat and oaky. I side with Hugh Johnson: on some level a wine must be quenching. You shouldn't want a gulp of water after a sip. Too bad, as the fruit seemed to have decent potential.
Right beside it, but from a different planet is Quintay Sauvignon Blanc from the Casablanca Valley in Chile. I as initially attracted to it by the write-up from Wine and Spirits magazine:
"This offers chalky aromas and tight, mineral acidity that keeps it restrained and youthfully severe. With air, it shows some herbal character, but the chalky component prevails, creating the sensation that this was made from stones rather than fruit. A good match with sea urchin"
I dunno from matching with sea urchin (haven't really had any good urchin since Tsukiji market back in the 80's) but the comment about chalk, minerals and stones is perfect: this stuff was made in a gravel pit, not a vineyard. And I mean that in the most complimentary way. When Sauvignon Blanc is underripe it smells like asparagus and cat whizz. When it's over-ripe it smells of melons and usually the oak or battonage treatments the winemaker used to give some sort of character, any character, but when it's perfectly ripe it has gorgeous balance of fruit and herbaceousness, and can fully express the terroir of its origin. In this case, the minerality of the chalky Casablanca soil bursts straight through. I think it's got the legs to age for two years or even longer, but the three bottles I snagged are doomed to be guzzled before summer's end, it's that yummy.
After those two it's reds all the way down. First up is the Rolf Binder 'Heinrich' Shiraz Grenache Mataro from Australia's Barossa Valley. Estate grown and harvested by hand, the blend of 55% Shiraz, 25% Mataro, and 20% Grenache is separately crushed, fermented and aged until final blending just before bottling. It's a pretty cool technique, giving the winemaker very fine control over each grape. The Australian trinity (Grenache, Shiraz, Mataro) is an homage to Rhone wines that a based on the same three grapes. In this example the blueberry/blackberry fruit of the Shiraz takes front and centre, with the bright cherry/strawberry of the Grenache playing gadfly and the brooding dog-strangler Mataro (also known as Mourvedre and Monastrell, depending on where it's grown) gives the tannin, depth and structure. Darn good wine with a juicy steak, and a wonderful surprise for Chateau-neuf du Pape fans, tasting better than French analogues costing twice as much.
Beside it is a lovely Monastrell (hey, how 'bout that!) from Spain's Jumilla region, about 150 miles from Madrid. I know there are some ungrafted vines in this region, but I haven't been able to determine if these come from such a vineyard.
Ungrafted means that the area was not subject to the Phylloxera invasion that ruined the old-world's vines and necessitated replanting on American (non wine-making) rootstock and grafting over with the old varieties. Connoisseurs think that ungrafted wines deliver purer flavour and more varietal intensity. Jury's still out for me, as I haven't tasted enough ungrafted/grafted samples from comparable vineyards, but I have had some tasty ungrafted-vine wines.
I had moderately low expectations for this bottle. A lot of the Monastrell I've had out of Spain has earned its nickname (estrangle-chien, the 'dog strangler') by being clumsy, heavy, and unloveable (sounds like my cat). I was therefore very pleasantly surprised to find a wine that came off more like a Rhone blend than a canine ligature inducer, with almost Syrah-like character, a deep dark purple colour (but not the squid-ink blackness I've seen in other Jumilla Monastrells) and a nose of berries, lavender, rose petals and smoky-spice leads to blackberry/cherry, enough mineral to be interesting without being cloying and a nicely balanced finish. Two thumbs up.
Next up is a Montebuena Rioja (been on a bit of a Spanish kick lately). This one is interesting because it's made from 100% Tempranillo grapes, rather than the traditional Rioja blend. In addition, it's only five years old, and pretty fresh and pleasant with the fruit. In the old days Rioja used to be held in gigantic (thousands of litres) barrels that were only partly topped-up, which led to exhausted (and sometimes oxidised) wines with little fruit and no freshness. This one is nicely balanced at 13.5% alcohol and some tasty cherry/pruney notes going to tobacco, leather and earthiness, smooth tannins and good grip. It's quite a value, even at BC's stupendously inflated prices.
Next up is a wine I delight in, partly because I love to tease the proprietor. I've known Ray Signorello Jr. for 20 years but only because we were introduced at an industry function. He can never, ever remember who I am (and I don't tell him), yet I greet him heartily and ask after his family every time I see him. I find it very funny, because he's always massively polite and deferential, but you can see the confusion and beads of sweat. Nobody said this was an easy business, Ray. How's your dad?
It's okay though, because his wine speaks for itself. Unlike the majority of the horrible Cabernet coming out of Napa these days it's pretty much made old-school, without the incredible interventionist nonsense that characterises the hollow and soulless work of Clark Smith and his infernal machines. Good fruit from the Silverado trail, extended maceration, gentle pumpover and some barrel time are about all that's used to express the fruit. And express it does: rich (but not lurid) purple, even after five years, the nose of cacao, allspice, and vanilla-toast gives way to blackcurrant, blackberry, cedar, plums and hints of tobacco, with great balance and a finish that goes on all day to dense but smooth tannins. Top drawer stuff, and it costs like it too.
As any winemaker will tell you, it takes a lot of beer to make good wine. I picked up a couple of Porters last month, to help ride out the snow storms. Porter is a style of beer that originated in England, starting off as a complex blend ('three threads') which was popular with local draymen (Porters) and eventually became a single beer or moderate strength, roasty, smokey character and balanced hoppiness. Porter gave way to Stout, which was originally called 'Extra Stout Porter', but there are revivalist styles available, and it seems to be a popular canvas to paint herbs, spices and fruit on these days.
Tree Brewing is one of my favorite BC microbreweries, mainly because of their wonderful Hophead IPA, which suits the criteria of my value system perfectly. Their Raspberry Porter is very pleasant, with a nice nose of fruit giving way to caramel/coffee/roasted grain and a gently sweetish finish. Tin Whistle is a brewery that I don't often patronise--not enough hops in their beer to suit me, mostly. But this Chocolate Cherry Porter was a really great drink: dry cacao notes combined with sweet cherry to make it smell like a sweet shop with a beer addiction, and it had a nice creamy finish of roast grain and malt. Both were perfect for sipping by the fire with a cat or two for company and a shortbread biscuit to nibble.
Well, it's not all fun and games here: must get back on the grind and drink some more to get another blog entry going.
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