Gotta Have Those Legs?

Now that I have your attention, let’s talk a little about wine tasting terms.  Here’s a question:  Have you ever been to a wine bar when someone says “Wow, this wine has long legs?” and think “what the heck does that mean?”  Here is how the term “legs” is defined in The Oxford Companion to Wine”, 2nd ed., pg 403:  “…tasting term and alternative name for the TEARS left on the inside of a glass by some wines.” The definition for tears, on page 694, is this :”…tasting term used to describe the behaviour of the surface liquid layer that is observable in a glass of relatively strong wine….These traces of what look like particularly viscous driplets are also sometimes called ‘legs’, and give some indication of a wine’s alcoholic strength.”

Meaningful Wine Descriptors?

So, legs can give some indication of the amount of alcohol in a wine and this may be of some interest if one is attempting to characterize a “big-bodied” Pinot or an “ultra-ripe” Zinfandel.  In the end, although this term is well-defined, it really is not important.  There are wine descriptors, however,  that are commonly used in modern wine criticism with seeming importance, but are ill-defined.  Here’s a sampling of these descriptors (I lifted these descriptors from two well-known, recently issued glossy wine magazines): ”muscular”, “fleshy”, “energetic”, “racy”, “big-boned”, “easygoing”, “lively”, “angular”, “flabby”, “full-bodied”, “lean”, “poised”, “plump”, “tense”, “mellow”, “supple”, “thin”, “graceful”.  These terms are kind of anthropomorphic, but the bigger point I want to make here is what do these terms mean and do they carry the same implication they would for humans?  For instance, if a woman in this day and age is called “big-boned” it is not necessarily a compliment and could be taken as an insult, but describing a wine as “big-boned” means what exactly? Is that a good or bad thing??  (I’m not exempt here, by the way.  I know I use the word “flabby” all the time to describe mostly chardonnay that is low in acidity.  Buy my “flabby” may not be someone else’s — is your wine flabbier than my wine? yuck).

Many folks — Ann Noble — most notably, have worked very hard over the years to standardize wine descriptors so that most in the industry know what it means when a taster describes a wine as offering “blackberry” flavors or “smoky” aromas.  That is a great beginning, but there are definitely other characters in wine that obviously need descriptors.  Should they be standardized?  Is it even possible to do that?  In the meantime, how does one interpret current wine criticism?

Ew, fungus!  The word might conjure itchy gym-worn feet or that black mold growing in the shower.  Or what about mildew, slimemolds, water molds, and all of those other nasty little things?  But you might also be surprised that the lowly term “fungus” includes tasty treats as well.

What is fungus, anyway?

Fungi are neither plant nor animal, reproduce by sporulation, and include the likes of molds & mildews, yeasts and mushrooms.  Fungi feed themselves by breaking down organic matter and in turn help other organisms to flourish by doing so.  For instance, many mushrooms are “wood rotters”, ie, they are often found growing on either dying or dead trees or branches and essentially break down the wood to make its components biologically available to other organisms.  Yeasts, too, serve a similar purpose:  they digest carbon-rich sugars and turn them ultimately into ethanol, carbon dioxide and heat through a number of very complicated biochemical processes.  With wine or beer, fortunately enough, we have learned how to harness the potential of yeasts and then to preserve the resulting product to create enjoyable and tasty beverages (in nature, if left on it’s own, ethanol would quickly break down, with the help of bacteria, into, among other things, acetic acid, aka “vinegar”.) 

Coincidentally, wild mushrooms and pinot noir for me are one of the highlights of winter.  Together they are classic pair made in the sitting room of the organoleptic matchmaker:  the earthiness of the mushroom and the richness it lends to a dish (cream of mushroom soup, beef stroganoff, mushroom & cheese crepes…..) is perfect for an earthy, fruity pinot with the acidity to balance all the flavors on the palate. 

For more information about various mushrooms and their properties visit:  MykoWeb

Click Here for more information about our January 31st winemaker’s — and wild mushroom — dinner at Grasing’s in Carmel

 

 

I got the rare opportunity taste a 1984 Ridge Monte Bello Cabernet the other night.  Now, let me first state upfront that on any given day my preferred red wine is Pinot Noir, hands down.  Now that I’ve cleared that up:  this was a fabulous wine!!  Dark, black fruit, sublime texture, long finish; all the components were well integrated and seamless.  This was not a fleshy, tannic, edgy, alcoholic wine, but purely enjoyable, drinkable, well-made, aging quite well.  Quite an epiphany for me , especially when I saw on this on the label:  12.9% alcohol.  12.9%! 12.9%!  I could write a stupid little song like “Ode to 12.9%” and dance around the room. 

“Seeking Balance“

This may seem quite ridiculous to you to be so happy about this seemingly minute and insignifcant point, but to me it is a big deal.  As a relatively young winemaker who has had a career shaped during a rather turbulent stretch in the wine industry**, one of the challenges with which I struggle is deciding upon the style of wine to produce and at the same time seek a balance between all of these factors:  what a vineyard can deliver in terms of quality and style, conditions of the growing season, commercial considerations (how much of a wine to make/will it sell/will it be appreciated?). Winemaking being my job, and the wine industry being incredibly competitive, I have to find a way to be successful, but these days one can be pulled in so many directions in order to make a wine that will thrive in the marketplace.  For instance, big, alcoholic wines have drawn much recent acclaim and lots of money and top scores.  With a eye on job security and success, I have queried myself about whether I should follow this path.  The problem, though, with making bold, over-the-top wine is that I don’t necessarily like drinking it, and the purist in me doesn’t think they deserve much merit (the optimist in me says that if I don’t like them, then others don’t either).  So, I choose to make wines I prefer to drink and, overall, that style is food friendly and restrained, but this style of wine is not immediately obvious, doesn’t jump out of the glass and grab one by the nose, and takes someone with a trained palate, or at least someone who is tired of other wines, to appreciate. 

So, quite honestly, to taste a refined wine such as this Monte Bello Cab not only renews my enthusiasm for wine, but helps me sleep at night, too.  Afterall, Ridge is one of those pillars in the industry — they’ve been doing basically the same thing for probably close to 30 years now, and they’ve done it well.  In the long-term I hope this will prove to be a strategy worthy of following.

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**Here’s a little summary of what I deem a “turbulent” time in the wine industry:

• late 80′s through late 90′s:  most vineyards were replanted due to the AXR/phylloxera debacle.  This coincided with the availability of new clones and rootstocks, new available technology and knowledge regarding planting and maintaining vineyards as well.  Additionally, many new vineyards were planted all over California, including Southern California, the Sierra Foothills, Central Coast, and the Northern Central Valley.  Overseas, Australian practicality and prowess increased not only their wine production, but intensifed marketing efforts in the US.
• As the wine industry grew during this time, corporations bought-out smaller wineries left and right; winemakers played “musical chairs” as they were offered bigger and better positions within these new mega corporations.  At this time, “cult cab” became big.
• In addition to the then-existing wineries, even more players entered into wine production from outside the industry which influenced all areas: package design, wine style, marketing and sales campaigns, pricepoints, etc.
• studies that proved wine is good for health started to get media attention

 

I came down to Monterey from the North Coast wine regions in 1998 to continue working in the wine industry.  At that point I was, frankly, sick of Chardonnay and tired of the same, redundant heavy, oaky, malo-lactic-y, flabby stuff.  A lot of my disinterest stemmed, also, from many years of monitoring thousands of chardonnay barrel fermentations (the kind of job given to novice but enthusiastic cellar rats because nobody else wants to do it).  In one particularly large winery I worked for, it meant hours upon hours of manuevering a scissorlift through a cellar crisscrossed with wine and air hoses and  also with “fixed” stacks of barrels — sometimes 30 feet high – and doing my best to not to get stuck in drains (not fun when 30 feet in the air, leaning like the Tower of Pisa) or pop a cellarguy’s airhose (it’s hard to flee from a mad cellarguy in a slippery wine cellar, take my word for it).  So, I guess you could say that Chardonnay and I had shared some baggage.

Then, I came to Monterey and learned what Chardonnay is down here, and it renewed my interest and enthusiasm in the most common of varietals.

I bet most people don’t know that some or most of the grapes in an ”X” bottle of $8-,$10,$12-California or Central Coast Chardonnay most likely came from Monterey?  Then, of course, there are the higher-end local Chardonnay producers, such as Talbott (Sleepy Hollow, Diamond T), Paraiso, Morgan, Pessagno, and Mer Soleil — to name a few — that are well known for great Monterey Chardonnay.  Yep.  There are roughly 38,000 acres planted to winegrapes in Monterey County and around 14,000 acres is Chardonnay.  That’s a lot of grapes, and they make their way into a huge range of wine products. 

Historically, much of the land in Monterey has been used for dairy farms or grazing, with the rich, fertile soil in the Salinas Valley used for row cropping.  But there are benchlands and rather rough, rocky places that weren’t good for traditional farming, and the land wasn’t all that valuable either, so early wine companies started planting grapes, and mostly white varietals on the recommendation from UC Davis.  Well, as it turned out, not only was it relatively affordable to plant grapes on land in Monterey, but the climate and soils here are very well-suited for Chardonnay.  Monterey Chardonnay has got to be one of the most dependable and consistent agricultural crops around — I would bet money on it.  From year to year it is simply, and beautifully, the same:  relatively easy to manage in the vineyard, good, dependable croploads, highly consistent flavors and attributes, great acidity, vintage to vintage.  That’s one reason why those “X” bottles of Chardonnay are so reliably consistent from year-to-year.

As for Cima Collina Chardonnay, it has been an overwhelming success and we are, officially,  Sold Out.  With that said, we have saved a few cases to get our restaurant friends, such as the Village Fish House, Sierra Mar and Passionfish, through the summer.  I’ve also heard that Star Market in Salinas has a little left.  Here’s to Monterey Chardonnay and summer!

This post is in response to Erwin’s comment to my post from 3-24-06 “Pinot for Everyone Else”:
Hi Erwin,
You raise some theoretical and practical concerns that I’m not sure many can answer at this point. First of all about the frustration you mention about trying to gain a deeper understanding of a varietal: I remember when I was just beginning on the path of learning about varietal characteristics in wines. If I had an array of glasses in front of me, all with a different varietal in them and it was a blind tasting, the initial impression made is of the color and all of its facets: depth, tone, hue. I could get a pretty good idea just from looking at the wines what they might in fact be. Can tasters who are trying to find their way through the maze of varietal character — and trying to learn more about wine appreciation — rely on color as an indicator anymore, as you mention? Frustrating indeed.

You ask about experienced wine tasters and detecting the presence of Mega Purple. Dan Berger’s Wines & Vines article describes a tasting that he, John Buechsenstein of UCDavis, a winemaker named Kerry Damskey Harvey, Clark Smith of Vinovation and Dr. Richard Peterson (former winemaker at Beaulieu) and Dan Berger himself organized. They added Mega Purple in varying degrees: .2% to .8% (remember, this is pretty concentrated stuff, and these additions were described as being “large amounts”) to Cabernet and Zinfandel. Some of the comments: Dan says “the ‘additive’ wines were clearly plumper and a bit more full-bodied than were the control samples…..The Cabernet in this case wasn’t very dark in color, so the additive wines bolstered the red color, but even at the lowest levels, I found the wines to be a bit fatter and less characteristic of Cabernet. For me, the Zinfandels were most hurt by Mega Purple, because the color additives compromised the varietal spice.” Damskey said “he has used Mega Purple in the past a couple of times, ‘but the addition has to be a lot less’ than we used in our blind tasting. ‘And you have to be very careful how you use it. The downside is that I don’t like the way it changes the aroma. More than often, it mutes the aroma’”. Harvey said: “‘the ‘sweetness’ in the Cabernet made the tannins more astringent, ‘ because, she said, the sweetness was out of sync with the rest of the wine…..Harvey added, ‘I don’t plan on using it. It’s easier to add Cabernet Franc to Cabernet Sauvignon. Using (Mega Purple), the wine seemed too disjointed, plus I got a sort of licorice or jug character from it.’” The article finishes with a quote from John Williams, of Frog’s Leap: “William’s concern, he said, is that color additions like Mega Purple might someday ‘become part of the regular winemaking regime’”.

So, this tasting doesn’t necessarily reflect what might happen in reality in that they were using higher additive rates than what might normally be considered, but it is still interesting to read the comments on the effects. So who knows if an experienced taster can say “Aha — they are using Mega-whatever”, but if a varietal wine seems dumbed down, slightly sweet or round, highly colorful, etc., it might be a tip-off of some kind of modern winemaking manipulation (these Mega products are only one of an array of “tools” brought to us courtesy of modern technology).

Which leads me to an idea of disclosure, as you mention as being the main issue for you. Here is an idea and one I would like implement here at the winery: to begin labeling all wines as to their exact content and that they are free of any color additives. Federal law states that anything on the label must match cellar records, and if it doesn’t then the winemaker — not the winery — (so in this case, me) is personally liable for any fines, prosecution, jail time, etc. Maybe disclosure would be the best option for most wineries — especially small wineries — to insure the consumer knows what they are drinking? How does this sound?