Archive for the ‘Wine Appreciation’ Category

Long Legs and a Whole Lot More

January 19th, 2007 by Annette

645290_legs_2.jpgGotta 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?

Fungus Among Us

January 16th, 2007 by Annette

slimemold on decaying board.jpgEw, 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?IM001422.JPG

Fungi are neither plant nor animal, 796947.jpgreproduce 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

 

 

Let’s Hear it for Restraint & Subtlety!

January 5th, 2007 by Annette

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 Balancebalance.jpg“

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:

 

Monterey Chardonnay — A Beautiful Thing

July 14th, 2006 by Annette

I came down to Monterey from the North Coast wine regions in 1998 to continue working in the wine industry2004 cv chard.JPG.  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!

Pinot for Everyone Else, Part II: Technology vs. Taste

March 27th, 2006 by Annette

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?

Pinot Noir for Everyone Else

March 24th, 2006 by Annette

I don’t really like to discuss wine color a whole lot these days because I think the whole subject is pretty tiresome at this point. But two articles that have come out recently in the wine industry media that have spurred my interest. The first article was published in the April, 2006 issue of Wine & Spirits magazine entitled “Pinot Noir Taboo”, written by Jordan Mackay. I’ve gotten to the point with wine media where I’m generally looking forward to my subscriptions running out for most of them, especially the review-heavy types of zines. But, I have to say that the kinds of articles I have seen in this magazine recently have piqued my interest in this magazine, and I hope they continue the good work. In this article, Jordan discusses the taboo of blending other varietals into Pinot Noir to make it darker and richer than it ordinarily would be. It is taboo not because it is an illegal practice (25% of a wine of a varietal wine can be of other varietals), but because no one wants to admit they do it. Jordan doesn’t find out much, because no one is willing to talk to him about it except for the folks that are making Pinot Noir blends outright (for example Terry Speizer, Greg La Follette and Lynn Penner-Ash). All of these folks have been making Pinot for years and say that yes, folks do blend and don’t admit to doing it. Also, an interesting point that Jordan points out is that the amount of Pinot being sold these days has increased dramatically, but the acreage planted has almost remained unchanged. How can that happen unless it is, in fact, being blended with other wines?

The other article that pursued a related taboo is one entitled “Mega Purple” by Dan Berger in the March 2006 issue of Wines & Vines magazine. Mega Purple and its cousin Mega Red are products that I have been vaguely aware of for sometime but didn’t know much about. According to Dan, Mega Purple is produced by Constellation, aka Canandaigua. (A quick corporation primer here: Constellation, which owns, among other things Estancia, Ravenswood, Simi, and the sole distribution rights for Corona and Modelo beers in the US is, in turn, owned by Canandaigua, the illustrious producers of, among other things, Cisco and Wild Irish Rose, and other what I call “formula” wine products). To summarize, many winemakers, maybe thousands of winemakers, apparently use this additive (a concentrate of grape skin extracts) to enhance color, body and add a light “sweetness” to a wine. Here’s a quote from the article on page 53: ” Yet one Monterey County winery president confided, ‘Virtually everyone is using it.'”

First of all — to Jordan and Dan — good job in tackling a subject that folks have whispered for years. It is about time that these things start to be examined by folks in the industry, but especially by wine drinking consumers.

Second of all: why such a concern over color? It is such a silly concern that started in the early 90’s, in my opinion, when the cult Cabernet thing was moving into full swing and the concept that dark-hued wines receive higher magazine ratings (read, then higher the value and collectibility of the wine will be) developed. Before you knew it, a grain of wine color obsession became a landslide of delusion and superficial concern. In the 90’s, the main winemaking discussion seemed to be how to get the most color out of Pinot. I am hoping that wine drinkers and winemakers are moving beyond that simple concern, but apparently not?

The way I see it, there are two different classifications of Pinot these days in the US: PCD’s (Pinot for Cab Drinkers) and PEE’s (excuse the acronym: Pinot for Everyone Else). I like Cabernet, and I have nothing against Cabernet drinkers, but what I don’t like is the concept of placing the same expecations one has of Cabernet (dark, rich, and, well, dark, rich) on a wine such as Pinot Noir and, as it turns out, the typical PCD’s are usually dark, rich and relatively non-varietal in character. If you like that, then go to it.

But, as one who has been involved with Pinot Noir for some time and has had the opportunity to form a, more or less, “purist’s” opinion about it, this is an idea I offer: Let’s embrace the concept of, um, PEE! What should we expect from Pinot for Everyone Else? How about “Everything Pinot Can Be”, which is to say, let’s appreciate it for it’s wide-ranging varietal capacity, depending upon where it is from and who makes it. That, in the end, is the beauty of the varietal to me, and also, I suspect and hope, for a growing number of other wine interested folks: the possibilities Pinot holds within itself, without any help from its friends.

Be a Pig

March 17th, 2006 by Annette

One question I often get is “What does a person need to do to recognize and describe all those flavors and aromas in wines?” I usually reply that it takes a lot of dedicated, hard work that involves tasting as many wines as you can get in your glass. I’m inclined these days to also say “Try being a pig”, but that probably needs an explanation:
Wild Piglets, courtesy Don Savant

I was driving along recently and saw a group of wild pigs rooting around quite enthusiastically next to the road. I pulled over to watch because it seemed that they were really enjoying what they were finding there. It was a group of what seemed to be 5-6 females or young males with about the same amount of yearling pigs. They were all different shades of brown — from copper to coffee colors (the piglets had stripes) — and they were oblivious to anything else happening around them. I rolled down the window and every one of them seemed to be grunting quite happily.

Pigs as we all know get a bad rap, most often in our language (Don’t be a pig, chauvinist pig, My, but you look like a pig). Around here, wild pigs have a bad reputation because they aren’t native, they tear up the ground when rooting around, they cause traffic accidents, there are too many of them, etc. (for an even-handed account of the controversy from someone who is experienced with the subject, click on this link: www.coestatepark.com/wild_pig.htm)
But while I sat in my car watching them that day, I was reminded of something that I really appreciate and can relate to: they are connoisseurs in their own right, especially when it comes to food. They eat acorns, berries, wild mushrooms, plant shoots, grubs, and, yes, given the opportunity, wine grapes at their ripest and most tastiest. (At one vineyard I worked for, it almost seemed pointless after awhile to go out and see if the grapes were ready to harvest, because if they were, the pigs usually got there first!)

Now, when I have some time away from the winery, I like to go out on hikes and, if the season is right, look for mushrooms. Being a mushroom seeker, and moreso because I’m a novice, often means inthe dirtiest, muddiest sense, being, truly, a pig –rooting around in the dirt, under rotting leaves, going through underbrush and poison oak to find interesting, and possibly tasty specimens. While I’m doing this, though, I like to think that I’m experiencing what a pig might experience, being the connessieur he is: a pure, unabashed assault of the senses by the natural world. Earthy, barnyard, dung, cedar, oak, moldy, musty, herbal, damp, spicy, minty. (Do those descriptors remind you of anything? Winespeak, maybe?) Then, if I actually find a mushroom or two, it gets even better because the mycological realm presents it’s own incredible array of aromas and flavors. Some mushrooms smell like almond extract (the Prince, Almond agaricus). Oyster mushrooms fresh off a tree smell like anise. There are other mushrooms that smell fragrantly spicy (cauliflower mushrooms), or of apricots (chantrelles). Some poisonous mushrooms smell fishy or farinaceous, or like maraschino cherries or library paste. A whole sensory education in the outdoors! What more could a hedonist or a pig or a wine lover ask for?

So, it’s pretty simple: to get nearly a complete sensory education, all you have to do is be a pig, or, at the very least, take a hike! Happy Rooting

he-don-ism, n: Pursuit of or devotion to pleasure, especially to the pleasures of the senses