The Hospital Gown Theory: ProWein 2012

ProWein is the annual mecca for wine professionals in both Germany and around the world. It's the chance to strut your stuff, show your wares, and network at night. But like a Pu-Pu platter in a Chinese restaurant: despite the show, you go home hungry and with a skewed view of Chinese cuisine. 

So what to do about ProWein?

In preperation, I plotted out our wineries. I drew maps and made schedules. I downloaded the App....twice. I had a plan. But part of the joy and job of Prowein is talking with the wineries, getting a feel for the year, the soil, the landscape. Hearing the stories about Richter's Sonnenuhr covered by hail insurance mere weeks before it was covered with tennisball sized hail, or Domaine Kox's Auxerrois grapes stomped by feet instead of press, or the ease of Germany's 2011s permitting a cellar repaint instead of another sleepless night. The stories give me the background and "stuff" that ultimately sell the wine. But listening takes time. 

So following the hospital gown theory, this year I sacrificed Spain, Loire and Baden....

Wait, you don't know the hospital gown theory?

It's the principle that starts with the presumption that whatever you've got is just too damn small. That no matter how you cut, stretch, or creatively drape that stupid blue paper gown, something is always showing. You can choose if it's the front or the back, but the principle states that you will be hanging out somewhere.

So I supplimented my plans with the occasional fly-by adventure. Like California's Barrel 27 powerhouse Head Honcho Syrah, or the Veneto's Wildbacher from Conte Collalto. Pour, taste, spit, make excuses, and move on. 

Vintage 2011: If I'm being honest, I'd have to say that I have yet to be won over to Germany's 2011. Many winemakers are calling it a stellar year. This was the year they harvested early and ripe with good yields. To be fair I was tasting mostly barrel samples. Hell, half of them, it seemed, were still fermenting. I didn't taste any bad 2011s but I can't say as I tasted any clear winners either. What I did taste was soft, round, and easy. Pleasant with a nice personality. To be fair, the 2011s are going to make great team players (foodwise) because they don't demand the spotlight, and get along with just about everyone. But, c'mon, don't you want more in the morning than a nice personality? 

Me, I like my edges... and my acidity. And the colicky 2010s, while more highly strung that I am and just beginning now to show, still make my heart go pitter-patter. I also credit 2010 with helping me discover a real respect for the regions I had formally deemed too fat, wide and “international.” Yes, Pfalz, I'm talking about you. 

In 2010 many of the Pfalz wines were rich without being big—compact, structured and, dare I say it, elegant. And as for those slate-babies on my wineshelf still tight and closed, well, this is what riesling is all about, boys and girls.

So what to do about ProWein? Outside of streamlining the shorthand and investing in running shoes instead of more heels, I guess I just need to don my prettiest underwear and accept that something will always be showing, someone will always be neglected. ProWein is the teaser, the sampler plate, not the meal. For that, I need to hit the vineyards, not the highlights. 

And you?

Wild wild west part II: Seeing Red

In last week's episode we drank a few rieslings, shocked a few Germans, and proved that an Arizona Chardonnay has a life span longer than most cats. And *that's* what you missed in Riesel'd.

Today I'm seeing red. Wine that is....

According to Wikipedia, “Norton is a grape cultivar believed to be largely derived from Vitis aestivalis, and is grown in the Midwest, Mid-Atlantic States and northeastern Georgia. Norton was first cultivated in Richmond, Virginia and is the official grape of the State of Missouri[1] and is considered the cornerstone of the Missouri wine industry.[2] Although some believe that the Norton is a true native of North America, most experts suspect that it is a hybrid of one or more native varieties and one Vitis vinifera grape.”

There are its champions and its naysayers. And ironically while none of our ABWCP attendees had ever tried a Norton wine before, it was originally vinified by German settlers in late 1800s Missouri, where a Missouri Norton wine won a gold medal at the Vienna World’s Fair and Norton was proclaimed the “best red wine of all nations.”

Having worked at Horton Vineyards--the winery credited with returning the Norton varietal to its original VA birthplace—however, I had a bit of the girl next door syndrome. It was your oldest kindergarten friend, the one you formed the Loser's Club with and watched pick (and maybe learned a trick or two from) his nose behind the garden shed. It wasn't the stunning novelist with the B&W book jacket cover just nominated for the National Book Award.  It's easy to sideline what you know. But sometimes the familiars do go on to greatness.

But first we had Gamay Noir from Michigan....

2005 Gamay Noir Reserve, Chateau Grand Traverse, Old Mission Peninsula/MI.

The dark brick red color was the first clue that this was not your average Beaujolais. Crushed wild berry basket in the nose, layered with pepper and spice, and wound-tight with fine tannins. It is the acidity that really defines this wine. While pleasant now, drinking any earlier would have made this wine neurotic instead of just high-strung. The alcohol at 13.5% is well integrated, and the long spicy finish provides a pleasing, Burgundy-like impression.

The next wine was a bit of a cheat, coming from Sonoma Valley, but it was such a cult classic that no one was hard-core enough to suggest pouring it down the sink on principle alone.

2005 Williams-Selyem Winery Pinot Noir Weir Vineyard Yorkville Highlands/CA

The first nose felt like a 300 level Adorno seminar: rich, deep and complex. Especially in comparison to the Gamay Reserve, the autumn smells just kept rolling out of the (much, much too small) glass. Nutmeg, Cinnamon, dry leaves crackling under your feet, hint of smoke from a wood/burning stove with warming glühwein. A velvet softness tinted the entire experience in the unfocused haze of a foreign film. I expected subtitles. At the beginning and end a cola-like sweetness suggested America, but otherwise it was a new Pinot experience for me. Perfectly, suppley ripe with a complexity that needed both food and bigger glasses (did I mention we needed bigger glasses?) to fully appreciate.

1997 Caitlins Selection, Callaghan Vinyards, Arizona.

50% merlot. .50% cabernet franc

At 14 years old, many of us were skeptical but this wine held multiple surprises not to mention inspiring the quote of the evening. The nose was jammy and laced with layers of licorice and cooked pepper. And the tannins and acidity provided a backbone straight and strong enough to hang your hat on. In the mouth, the depth and concentration really shone through, so that I wanted to chew instead of drink it. One person said this wine screamed for a roast, the next said F*** the roast, THIS is the roast, to which the next one said, this isn't the roast this is the stuff in the bottom of the pan left over AFTER the roast, the “lovely, sticky bits” which was, in all honesty, the perfect description for this intense, rich and concentrated medly. 

1995 Zinfandel, Buena Suerte Vineyards, Arizona.
Brown on the rim with dulled brick red hues, it was clear this wine had seen its day. Cooked cauliflower in the nose with hints of onion, I couldn't shake memories of my mom's overcooked New England boiled dinner. There was still enough minerality and structure to suggest that this wine had once had its 15 minutes of fame. Moving on....

2009 Norton, Horton Vineyards, Gordonsville/VA
Deep purple in the glass, this was a big jump from the ripe Zinfandel. Inky with violet-black streaks this was a wine for Halloween. Its nose was as deep as its color: spice, plums, cherries, and a hint of dime-store candy sweetness. On the pallate it confirmed the nose and established a considerable length. I'm guessing that the traditional Pig Roast Horton sponsors each summer is just about as perfect of a pairing as you get.

2008 Norton, Locksley Reserve. Chrysalis Vineyards, Middlesburg/VA
With the largest single planting of Norton worldwide, Chrysalis Vineyard set the bar high. It didn't dissapoint. Owner Jennifer McCloud harnessed (or hog-tied!) the rich power and fruit of this grape into a single complex wine. With cherry, currants and a wonderfully balanced acidity, this really made the night. We spent a while trying to figure out exactly what sort of meal would best showcase its attributes. the jury is still out.

Both Nortons showed a brilliant, demanding authenticity. Tasting two very different styles side-by-side, I found myself agreeing with the 1843 assertions of it as the American Bordeaux. Unrefined, perhaps, but the building blocks of a world class wine are there.

2002 Wild Grape, Valiant Vineyards, Vermillion/South Dakota
Wild Grape takes deep and raw to new levels. The story of the grape, its origins, harvest and vinification is a post in and of itself. Today I will stick to what is in the glass. With black currents, elderberries, cherries and green vines, descriptions defy this wine. Someone suggested similarities to Chinato in its blend of herbs, wood bitter notes. I agree. This is not a friday night-crack-a-bottle-and-kick-back-it's-been-a-rough-week wine, this is a roll-on-the-floor-and-wrestle-with-your-rottweiler wine. You both will come out a bit bloody and bruised, but smiling.

And in Part III we taste a spoonful of (aged) sugar with

1996 Norton Port and

2001Late Harvest Gewürtztraminer.

Wild, Wild West

It's easy to like French cabernet, syrah and chardonnay; Italian nebbiolo and pinot grigio receive pretty good press; and, of course, Germany's rising star, riesling. They are aromatic, fruity, velvety, pair well and go down easy. They are the Everybody's Darlings of the wine world. But with well over 1500 varieties of Vitis Vinifera, what happens when you leave the mainstream and, to quote Horace Greeley in what was probably the only good thing to ever come out of a Republican's mouth, “Go West, young man”? 



What you find, or at least what I found, together with eight other intrepid wine explorers including perhaps the only other person more dedicated to riesling than myself, Mr. Stuart Pigott, was a rich, fascinating, and challenging range of wines from a 14-year old Arizona Chardonnay to a 2009 Virginia Norton. The wines made me think, taste, and consider. They demanded I redefine “good” as more than black fruit, balanced acidity, soft tannins, and a long finish.




                                     Anything But West Coast, Please.

It all started a few months back when I attended a vertical tasting of Valiant Vineyards, “Wild Grape” with Eldon Nygaard in a small Berlin winebar. After hearing the story of “wild grape,” the South Dakotan Vitis Riparia, handpicked on the Rosebud Sioux Indian Reservation, talk turned to the other native American wine success story, Norton. Having worked for a few years at Horton Vineyards in VA, I told what I knew. Stuart wanted to know more about this "wild and crazy" grape. Thus, ABWCP was born.

Turns out that the only thing "wild and crazier" than the wine is the lengths one must go through to get said wines here to Berlin. Thankfully, through an underground railroad of suppliers, mules, and wine devotees (thank you, Justin!), we made it happen. The evening was a wild success, with wild vines and wild wines, and not at all what anyone expected (more detailed tasting notes are listed below).

Eric Asminov wrote an excellent post on “The Pour” (NYT; May 20, 2009) comparing many inexpensive American wines to franchaise food: well made but lacking the authenticity that identifies a Rheingau riesling from a Nahe. Honestly, until this tasting I had to mostly agree. Butto my surprise, every one of the wines we tasted had a distinct “sense of place.” They might have been “Mom&Pop” in some cases, lemonade stand do-it-yourself in others, but there was not a single “Mc”Wine in the bunch.

My biggest criticism came, honestly, on the second round of tastings the following day. They lacked the solid, lingering, thought-provoking finish I have come to expect in good to very good European wines. The finish defines everything that came before, it's what you are left with when the book is closed and the story is over. It can be good, bad, poetic, or pithy--but it's got to be there. And with the exception of the Chrysalis Vineyard, Norton, there was only silence. I hope that because in many cases the vines—especially in the newer AVAs like Michigan, Finger Lakes, and Virginia, are young, the roots need time and conflict (stress) to find their stories. And I, for one, will be here to listen.

TASTING NOTES:
We tasted partial blind, in pairs, revealing at the end of each pair the identity of the wines as well as our analysis.

2009 Dry Riesling. Sheldrake Point, Finger Lakes, NY. 11.8% ABV
Star bright, gold color with yellow highlights. Ripe stone fruits on the nose, especially peach and apricot, underscored with hints of developing petrol. A light minerality sits both in the nose and on the tongue. On the palette, however, the somewhat wider body contradicts the racy citric acidity. Overall, a pleasing typical Riesling with a bit of a personality conflict between new and old world styles.

2010 Dry Riesling. Chateau Grand Traverse, Old Mission Peninsula, MI. 12.5% ABV
This presented a bit of a dark horse, with many attendees swearing it to be German. On the nose there were lots of yellow fruit: ripe pears, yellow plums, and floral notes. Hints of bread yeast, reminding me of a grauburgunder. On the palate, the body belied the nose with a structured, clean and precise body and mouthfeel.

2010 Lot 49 Riesling. Cuvee Molly Devine. Chat. Grand Traverse, Old Mission Peninsula, MI. 
A real highlight of the evening were the rieslings from Chateau Grand Traverse. They were often mistaken for german “pirates,” providing a spicy fullness and complex aroma profile that felt very European in its presentation. Yet, they also had a creamy, restrained sherbert consistency in the mouth. Lot 49 had a smoky nose of quinces, pears and bread dough followed by a candy-like acidity on the front of the tongue. A slightly bitter finish rounded out the sweetness, but sadly was gone by the next day.

2009 Whole Cluster Riesling. Chat. Gr. Traverse, Old Mission Peninsula, MI. 10% ABV.
Juicy-fruit gum in the nose with hints of diesel fuel beneath. Low acidity and full-bodied. Wide structure with a slightly sloppy finish. Overall a pleasant taste but lacked the structure and acidity to keep it playing nicely together.

2008 Riesling (semi-dry), H. Weimar, Lake Seneca, NY
This was my first experience with Herman the German as Mr. Weimar has been called. It felt a bit like bringing American tea to an English tea party, but that was the theme of the evening. The wine certainly lived up to its name. It had a classic cool climate nose of green apricots and pink grapefruit. The slender acidic body danced across my tongue and down my throat and left a pleasan bitter finish.

2009 Riesling, Sheldrake Point, Finger Lakes, NY. 12,3% ABV
"Now this is a Texas riesling." There was nothing light, small or playful about this riesling. She talked loud, wore an oversized hat, and knocked us over with her stony minerality. Semi-dry and full of ripe pears in the nose. The alcohol was a bit overwhelming and bitter for my taste, but softened with time and air. We all agreed that it was still quite young and in need of aging to really come together.

1997 Chardonnay, Dos Cabezas Wineworks, Kansas Settlement, Arizona.
Did I mention that non-west coast wines were tough to get? With soft Jura-like whispers in the nose of nutmeg, clove and oak, the rockin' backbone, especially 14 years later, was a pleasant and unexpected surprise. This was a wine with spurs and chaps, and more than a faint hint of horses.

                Next: Wild, Wild West Part II: Seeing (and tasting) Red

Cloudy with a chance of Riesling

So let's just call that a trial run. Following the publication of my first entry, there was a nasty bike fall and a one month hospital stay in which I learned the following lessons: 1)  the need for padded handlebars 2) the exact consistency of a 5 year old's pancreas and 3) that a 2 week vacation wine list could, given proper time and energy, take on Shakespeare-like Dimensions. Only #3 need apply here.

To me, nothing says vacation like a good bottle of white.  Particularly something crisp, aromatic with layered whispers of all things summer: grass, wild flowers, honeysuckle, and ripe stone fruit.  A wine to fit the place, the way it normally would fit the course. The mineral notes of a Muscadet sur lie to offset the blazing sun and salty breeze; or a slate-laced Riesling kabinett to harmonize with the fresh floral notes of a Swiss mountain hut. A hint of sweetness, the perfect accompaniment to a romantic sunset walk. A good vacation wine should fit the taste, the mood, the setting. And a great one will let you relive the day all over again.

Friday night involved a lovely 2010 Rauenthaler Baiken, Riesling kabinett Trocken from  Langwerth Von Simmern. Sweet smoky slate, ripe apricots, a body with the structure and finesse of spun gold laced with wild thyme. Sunday's choice was a 2010 Vignobles Despagne Château Tour de Mirambeau Blanc, Entre-Deux-Mers. Straw yellow with a nose of elderberry flowers, wet grass and a hint of honeysuckle. The biting acidity is followed by a creamy body--fuller than I expected from the light nose--and a tangerine/pink grapefruit finish. The perfect accompaniment for some of the creamier Danish cheeses I discovered today at the cheese shop in town, as well as the fresh grass of the dune views and smoke of the dying campfire. It's a landscape in minor notes with the perfect light and lacy wines to compliment it.

All that said, my 9 (now 7) bottles of perfectly chosen summer white, have so far been consumed while dressed in 3 layers topped with a fleece vest while watching the storm strength winds rip rain across the dunes, and dreaming of the 2005 Madiran I left back in Berlin. Lesson learned here: as important as matching the wine to the setting, don't forget to first check the weather.

Petrol, It's What's for Dinner

I was poured my first real glass of Riesling in 2009, in a classroom in Koblenz, smack in the heart of the Germany's Mittelrhein region. I was surrounded by classmates who had grown up smelling, drinking, and knowing Riesling the way this southern New Hampshire girl knew cider. I stuck my nose into the glass and tried, like the others, to look thoughtful. I closed my eyes and inexplicably pictured my first car. A 1977 powder blue Grand Prix with white leather seats and a gas tank bigger than I was. I remembered lying on the grotesquely large hood in late spring, falling asleep in the sunshine to the perfume of elderberry blossoms, lemon soda and gasoline. Because that oversized car had not only an oversized fuel tank but an oversized leak as well. And at sixteen, it took almost a month of getting under 10 miles to the gallon to figure out that I was leaking gas faster than I was tanking it. 

But back to the classroom. Fifteen students went around offering their thoughts. They spoke of residual sugar, freshness, acidity, of lemons, of limes, of juice and peel. One person spoke of 'petrol,' and almost everyone nodded. I flipped through my German/English dictionary, glad I had sat near the back. When had the discussion moved to cars? Langenscheidt and Berlitz failed me. I held my breath and tried to look small.

It was my turn and I took a deep breath: ““Maybe, I guess. Yes, but first I should probably know....what's petrol?”

Well that was awkward.

And so began a beautiful thing. I was riesel'd. My quest for petrol, in all of her forms and intensities, has since led me on a journey of German wine from Baden to Saale-Unstrut, starting and ending with slate (“schiefer”) of all colors. The sweet smoke of the wet stone, like standing in the New Hampshire mountains after a summer rainstorm. Or a peach orchard in late summer with the fruit so ripe it falls into your hands. Or a basket of fresh apricots soft and sweet and tart all at the same time. That's Riesling. Or gas, pure and unfiltered, combined with slate smoke, and ripe peaches that not only call back to youth but promise of a complex, honeyed seduction in liquid form.

Yeah, that's Riesling. And this is me. And maybe someday when I have a car again (hopefully one with better mileage), I'll redefine petrol. But for me, especially with gas prices where there are, I'm happy to have the petrol notes in my glass, not in the tank.

Prost!