Thursday, October 9 2008

Weekly Wined-Up

Yes, Bacchus is worshipped here

I've been a bit remiss in updating my blog, but between getting ready for Limited Edition and being politically active (I did my advance vote--I'll be away) and drinking to drive away the electoral process blues from two countries at once, I've had a full calendar.

Ah, wine, blessed Lethe for trying times. Of course, in these times I've mostly been trying Limited Edition analogues. You see, we do wine tastings to show off the styles that we'll be producing for our Selection Limited Edition program, from January to April. Since we can't serve people wine from our kits (it's flat-out illegal in Canada, due to excise laws) and impossible in the rest of the world (the kits haven't been produced yet, much less would we have time to ferment, clear and bottle them!) we choose commercial wines that closely resemble the style we'll be making, match them to some food items, and have those as tasting samples at our consumer and dealer events.

As part of my desperately onerous and trying job I have to drink dozens of different commercial wines to see which will suit the styles best. Not only do I have to do it locally here in BC, but I've got to try other wines in other markets also: some wines are not available across different liquor distribution systems in the US and Canada. C'est la guerre.

Some of the ones I've been trying lately, from the left: KWV Cabernet Sauvignon from South Africa. KWV is a cooperative, founded ninety years ago to stabilise wine prices in South Africa after the advent of Phylloxera. They often bulk-blend grapes and wines from around the country, ageing and selling them on behalf of the growers. This is one of those bulk wines, a product of 'The Western Cape'. While some of the grape material probably came from the Swartland, this wine was only good, not outstanding. KWV's Cathedral Cellars 2003 was more like what we are going to produce, a bit deeper, with strong but well-restrained tannins and plenty o' blackcurrants.

Next to it is the Renato Fennochio Dolcetto d'Alba. Sigh. It's a 2007 (Dolcettos are not for long-term ageing) but it drinks like magic black cherry kool-ade. There's something about a red wine that tastes better when lightly chilled (15C/60F is perfect for me), has licorice and black cherry notes, and goes down like water, with an almondy finish that makes me want to buy a motor scooter and race around the plaza on my way to mama's house for pasta. Bellissimo!

The tall drink o' happy juice next to it is not a Limited style: it's Muscadet Sevre et Maine. Produced in the Loire Valley, around the city of Nantes, it's a very light, crisp, dry wine. It shows the influence of the granite soils in the slightly minerally nose, and has a pronounced citrus zippiness to it. It's not a heavy-bodied wine, but the balance and finesse it brings to the table is stunning. In addition to citrus notes, it can have some white flowers on the nose, in great years a hint of anise, but for the most part it's not incredibly floral or fruit driven. So what's it got? It's the most perfect wine ever made for oysters. I ate a dozen Malpeque, Kusshi Kumamotos and Fanny Bay oysters with it (for those counting, yes, I ate 36 oysters at once. I love them.) The citrus character and light weight glide across the palate like a summer's breeze. Om nom nom nom, where's the Walrus and Carpenter gotten to?

In the middle, that's not wine at all! Man does not live by fermented grape alone: sometimes nothing but the water of life will do. Laphroaig ('la-froyg') is one of the most intense, bruisingly 'scotchy' Scotch Whiskies every produced. It's from Islay (pronounced 'eye-lah', not, 'izz-lay'. Wacky language) an island off Scotland's western coast. Made from malted barley that is dried over burning peat fires, it's aged in a barrel house sitting right on a bay on the Atlantic ocean. The whole process gives it a seaweed/iodine/smoke/peat intensity that can really curl the hair of the uninitiated. For me, it's the water of life, sweet grainy notes, deep iodine and peat aromas (think of a fresh band-aid, but in a good way) and deeply, but not offensively, smokey overtones . . . cut with a little cold water and drank with a shortbread biscuit or some Bing cherries, it's my idea of heaven in a wee dram.

Right next to the pride of L'Ecosse is the Pride of Pfaffenheim, an Alsatian Riesling. Boneyard dry. Dry like licking a rock. Dried-up and blown away dry. Dry like a desert on Mars. But fruity! If you want to get a melancholy sense of the history of modern Europe, you could do worse than simply studying Alsace. For anyone who's ever played the game Risk™, it's a buffer state between France and Germany, and has been kicked back and forth more times than a soccer ball. But the continental climate (wild and wooly) is moderated by the Rhine (big ol' heat-sink) and gently sloping, high-mineral soils. There really isn't a better place to grow Rielsing on this planet. It's a bold, big wine, able to push down Chardonnay and take its lunch money, and yet it has enough finesse to go waltzing with delicate whitefish. I'm not as big a fan of Alsace's other famous wine, the Gruner Veltliner or Pinot Gris, but I'm more than happy with this Riesling.

Next in line is a Hawke's Bay Merlot, from Oyster Bay wines. I spent a week camping beside a waterfall in Hawke's Bay back in the early '80's (anyone else attend the World Jamboree? What a time! Especially when that goat fell off the cliff onto us . . .) I remember a cool, rainy summer in the middle of January, but that's not bad weather for Merlot. It ripens well in areas that are marginal for Cabernet Sauvignon, and this baby is delicious. I can't imagine a better example of what a really well-made NZ Merlot would taste like: smooth, but not bland, rich, but not a fruit-bomb, long finish but not astringent . . . it's a very classy, drinkable wine that pleases all the way. We had it with steak and prawns, and it went well with both.

Next to it is a rare bottling, Grey Monk's 2004 Okanagan Valley Dry Creek Vineyard Odyssey Merlot. Technically well-made, from a very good winery and a good vintage, it has the same problem that BC reds always have for me: they don't taste ripe. Even in the very best years few sites have the sunshine and degree-days to achieve full organoleptic ripeness, and the contortions of malolactic, oaking, micro-ox and tannin management that winerieis go through to cover this up makes me sad. While it's a solid effort from wonderful folks, it didn't bring much enjoyment for the dollar. I unreservedly reccomend all of Grey Monk's white wines, and their Rotberger Rosé, when you can get it, is utterly luscious.

Finishing on a bubbly note is Freixenet's Carta Nevada Cava, a sparkling wine from Spain. Not terrifically complex, it's fruity, fizzy and joyously hedonic. We drank it with potato chips while playing Monopoly, a practise that has much to recommend it. For an inexpensive bottle of bubbly, it's hard to beat the Spanish offerings.

Whew! That's enough drinking for one week! Back to the grind of getting ready for Limiteds.

posted by Tim at 08:41PM

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