Hospice du Rhone installment 2, Ogier: Finesse, Elegance & Pairing

Finesse & Elegance- two words that are spewed out to a point of surfeit in wine diction- two words which I'd like to dump into a biodynamic compost heap. They’re tired and they’re cliché and they’re archaic, but what wedgies my tighty whities most is how they’re mechanically thrown about the winespeak pitching mound regardless of who’s up to bat. Setting the bar low (or high, either way you slug it) with a 16.5% percent alcohol elephantine Pinot Noir from Napa Valley that ‘somehow manages to be elegant.’ Come on, really. Or another claret, in the long line of distinguished clarets, that ‘reeks of finesse’…well maybe it does, but can’t we use another word? No not reek, I like reek, I mean for elegant. If you’ve got a dozen elegant Bordeaux, one by one in a shooting gallery, who cares? Doesn’t that make what they don’t have more interesting? The erroneous use & sheer redundancy of 'finesse & elegance' have soured me on said terms a bit, but what about when they’re spot on, dead center apropos, absolutely perfect adjectives to use on a wine at hand? Am I still allowed to sneak ‘em in as descriptors after bashing the hell out of them? Caveat emptor- some wines strike me as so archetypal that they must have existed before the adjectives came around, as if the words were created just for them, like a tailored suit. Ogier’s Cote Rotie, for lack of better terminology (or perhaps as an emblem of said terminology in its quintessence), are the incarnate of all enological finesse & elegance in all their defining grace. They float, they glide, they tiptoe with authority. Justification for their use noted.

If you’d like the inspired gasbag to continue to state his case for using such timid terms for such exemplary wines, feel free to nudge. For brevity’s sake, let’s move onto door number two.

Pairing- usually a term associated with the grouping of particular wines w/ particular foods, but during the Cote Rotie, The Next Generation seminar, I felt compelled to take the liberty to direct said term towards the grouping of a particular winemaker with...a particular winemaker. John Alban sitting next to Stephane Ogier, tasting his wines. The aforementioned moderator of the seminar makes some of the most burly, broad-shouldered expressions of Rhone varieties on the planet, easily taking the cake in the ‘my wine can beat up your wine’ competition. That said, they not only express their Edna Valley site uniquely, they do so in a way that I find to be compelling, equally and oppositely from the stable of Ogier. How is that possible? Big & balanced, ethereal & elegant- or, sans alliteration- good wines come in all dimensions. The chemist in me is interested in pH, brix, phenolic ripeness, dry extract...though my gustatory marrow tends to win out. In Bacchus we trust (or, for you 80’s pop music fans, consider Paula Abdul’s ‘opposites attract’ in verse).

We’ll call Ogier the Chateau Lafite of Cote Rotie (or the Chateau des Tours of the North, or the…you get idea), with John Alban playing the electric bass to his acoustic violin. Seriously, could you possibly make two Viogniers that are more different than Alban & Ogier? No cheating Italian fans, your funky fermented on the skins jobs don’t count. Why don’t they count? ‘Cuz I make the rules, my game.

Stephane Ogier’s line-up (minus the ’08 Syrah, La Rosine VDP & ’07 Cote Rotie Reserve, which were casualties of the hit & run variety):

Viognier 2008, Viognier de Rosine VDP
The bulk of Ogier’s discussion on his whites consisted of ‘I do NOT believe in battonage (stirring of the lees).’ Cautioned w/ a ‘hey, it’s cool if you do it, but that’s just not the way I roll.’ I’m paraphrasing obviously, it sounded much better in his French accent. Well the first of his Viognier came in under 12.5% alcohol, which is exceptionally low for the variety. The hue was slightly pale, but the bouquet was sheer ambrosia. A fiery spray of honeycomb, warm apple pie crust, rose petals & grapefruit peel stole the show, as the palate turned a bit trim, w/ its crunchy, almost tart rip of green apple-peel acidity brimming through the finish, 88 points.

Condrieu, 2008
A slightly headier (13% alcohol), more golden colored Viognier, with a reserved, coiled nose of quince, sea salt, peach & rose water perfume. This fleshier, naked expression of Viognier rips through the palate w/ a tactile, rocky-river bed like layer of minerality pumping out to the juicy finish. While the Condrieu is obviously a tad riper, it maintains a poise and lacy texture that is all Ogier This wine sees zero small barrels, 91 points.

Syrah L’Ame Soeur, VDP 2007
How many VDPs come even close to the class of this effort? His ‘07s are just tremendous up & down the line, w/ the VDP revealing a deep ruby core of color. The sultry perfume of wild spices, briar, white pepper, flat iron singed meat & dark, smoky berries almost gave me goose bumps. In the mouth, the entry weaves in such fabulous layers of suave, velveteen texture that I seldom experience from young Rhone, even in Cote Rotie. The ethereal wave of earthy, delicate fruit spins its way to the finish, propelled by a stony, rippling undercurrent of acidity, 92 points.

Cote Rotie, Lancement 2007
The Lancement was completely de-stemmed in 2007, firing out another impressively aromatic statement that brings to mind the irresistible scent of smoke swelling up from wood grilled game. The attack brings about a raw kaleidoscope of flavors, shuffling in notes of pepper, brick dust, tilled earth & sun baked dark fruits. The flavors flicker & spark the taste buds throughout the palate through shapely curves- an almost impossibly elegant frame. This is singular stuff that I can’t imagine coming from anywhere but Cote Rotie, 95 points.

Cote Rotie, Belle-Helene 2007
The Belle-Helene represents some of Ogier’s oldest vines in Cote Rotie, with the 2007 incorporating about 15% of the stems. Quite the contrast to the Lancement, which was full of showy immediacy, the Belle Helene has a taut, more sinewy tannic frame. In spite of its backward disposition, the quality of the fruit is obvious with its intense & perfumy notes of caramel, milk chocolate, cassis & lead pencil shavings. She’s got a body to die for, but a few more years in the cellar are a must, 95+ points.

Cote Rotie, Reserve du Domaine 2001
In spite of the 9 years under its belt, the Reserve is still impenetrably dark, arguably more so than the babies of the flight. A funky, freaky blast of the bouquet and you’re transported over to something from the world of Bonneau, as a provocative array of cabbage, sweet balsamic, stable floor, mushroom & iron notes smack from the stem. I’d obviously wager Chateauneuf from the bouquet alone, but the savagery toned down a bit as it aired, w/ the enveloping, deftly textured palate of warm currant fruit leaving a silky, almost cascading impression on the finish, 94 points.

Roussanne VDP, 2005
This wine was so deeply golden it made the previous Viogniers in the grouping look like tap water. Think concentrated urine the Sunday morning after a weekend bender that got way out of hand. Pee shaded robe aside, this was a helluva wine (albeit one that is not for everyone) conceptually reminding me of what hefty, dry Sauternes would taste like. Brazen & complex with its nose of ceiling wax, honeysuckle, French vanilla custard, nail polish, bee pollen & quince. Wow- that’s a lot of characteristics to decipher but trust me, they’re all there! As for the mouth-feel, for all its fat, opulent layers of glycerine, the wild ride was reeled in by an idiosyncratic tang, reeling it all in for the dry finish, 92 points.

*For the record, one of my favorite wines (not necessarily best, but favorite) of all time is a ’99 Ogier Cote Rotie. If affluent were part of my checking account’s vocabulary there’d be a LOT more of his wines in my attenuation of a cellar.

Hospice du Rhone installment one: South Africa

Hospice du Rhone, the brainchild of Mat Garretson- who has sense passed the baton to John Alban, has become Spring's epicenter for all things Rhone. This global celebration is a warm embrace of all 22 grape varieties that trace their heritage to the lands that surround France’s 505 mile watering hole, 18 years strong, with this year, embarrassingly, being my first. Well, it took me ten years to make it to Disney World as a kid, so why should adult passions open to slimmer waiting rooms?

I left New York’s decaying anatomy of a tombstone skyline in the dust for Paso Robles, California, the anti-New York. It reeks of such belligerent non-New York-ness that it comes out smelling sober. A pastoral baptism in fermenting waters- God love it.

The event was a two day affair, sectioned off into morning seminars & afternoon gang tastings. I’m going to spend a bit more time summarizing the seminars (which were eye-opening, fabulously run joyrides with Rhone inspired vistas), so I’ll break things up a bit into installments- the first being a 9 a.m. wake-up call from South Africa, entitled We’ve Come a Long Way Baby! The past, present and future of South African Syrah. Technically the first event was the Rhone ‘n Bowl, Freudian slipped ‘Bone ‘n Roll,’ which I unfortunately couldn’t attend as the Hitching Post II was calling my name.

I’d be remiss to not mention than James Molesworth has done a terrific job at Wine Spectator covering the progress of South African Syrah over the past few years (he also moderately the tasting eloquently). James prefaced the tasting w/ a few words on Apartheid, touching on how hamstrung the region had been qualitatively & how dramatic the upswing has been w/ the change in South Africa's political environment. The lion’s share of vines are still dedicated to Chenin Blanc (which has moved from a purely jug wine proposition to its now highly versatile expressions from steely & fresh to richer, mouth-filling versions), but Syrah has gone from basically non-existent to representing ten percent of the total vineyard acreage. While the progress has been fast and furious, wine enthusiasts must keep in mind that nearly two thirds of the Cape's red vinifera are under ten years old. As the vineyards & vignerons mature, one can only imagine what the qualitative ceiling is for South African Syrah.

Before I get into the wines I just wanted to make two brief points. One of which is that stylistically speaking, South African Syrah falls somewhere in between the guts of the Rhone and the flash of Barossa. They tend to have a freshness and delineation that the headier Syrahs of Australia lack, while hinting at some of the beefier elements Rhone enthusiasts expect from Hermitage, Cornas & Cote Rotie. Secondly, the major impediment I see for these wines in the U.S. is a function of their raw market presence. While Syrah is such a global & highly competitive category, South African versions do have a singularity in style that was noted by just about all in attendance (most commented that this seminar was the most eye opening), but its penetration into the U.S. market is fairly spotty. I’d imagine it is a multi-factorial issue, dealing w/ business specifics of importation (most are brought in by Cape Classics), sales representation stateside, production numbers & the lingering consequences of the Pinotage phenomenon. That being said it does appear that their presence in the U.K. is relatively strong from what I’ve heard.

Fairview Reserve Shiraz, 1986
(The semantics between Shiraz/Syrah are mostly due to the Australian influence, you’ll see both in South African labels) This was one helluva Apartheid era statement, keeping in mind that this wine was made when little to no Syrah was planted in South Africa. The colors showed a faded, brick-like diaphanous rim, with the lively aromas of smoked apple-wood bacon, decaying vegetation, dark olive & new saddle leather bringing to mind a mature Cote Rotie. The entry showed a spicy, peppery lift, turning mid-weight and complex throughout the palate. The body of the wine was shapely, shaded in finesse & finely resolved tannins, with a pretty, lingering finish awash in red fruit. This was just an outstanding experience to taste an almost 25 year old, one of a kind (literally) Cape Syrah, which can only be dubbed as a tribute to an unwavering artisan, 90 points.

Stellenzicht Syrah, 1994
James Molesworth’s background on this bottle was particularly interesting to me, as it apparently was a fruit bomb at birth- constructed as a showpiece of ‘hey, look what I can do’ cellar stud, with its high class oak, polish and little reference to varietal or place. Well a bit of time in the bottle surely served it well, as it maintained a fair amount of color for its 16 years of age, yet turned the corner aromatically w/ its cedar, lead pencil shavings, black currant and tilled soil notes. The attack came on smoothly, w/ a silky resolve to the texture that turned up the poise dial well past 10, with a good tug of acidity keeping the finish long & defined. In the entirety of its experience, this bottle reminded me of a charming, near-mature claret, 92 points.

Boekenhoustkloof Syrah, 2001 & 2006
This is a producer which you’ll see on the broader restaurant wine lists and reputable urban retailers. The ’01 was still fairly opaque, w/ an impenetrably dark core. The taut, very reserved palate shows a sneaky hint of spice box, olive & black currant fruit surrounded by a foursquare frame. While a bit more character perks up on the grippy, meaty finish, the ’01 was far less persuasive than the ’06, which exploded w/ a wilder, smoky clap. Savory, rich flavors of dark plum & grilled steak pump over the bed of velveteen tannins, w/ the structure still holding sway over the wine’s opulence. A dash of black pepper stretches out the finish nicely. This is a channeled, sharply balanced wine that pays close attention to detail & should really blossom in the cellar, 88 & 92+ points respectively.

Mullineux Family Syrah, 2008
The debut vintage for Chris Mullineux is a showy one, full of warm, primary fruit the likes of cassis, pepper and a basket's worth of deep red cherries. An explosive attack fans out to a big splash, with the midpalate fleshing out a big punch of anise & spicy new oak. Rock solid & pure baby fat, with firm, yet refined threads of tannin tying it all together, 93 points.

Tulbagh Mountain Vineyards Syrah Mourvedre, 2005
I’m not sure if it was the Mourvedre that was doing the talking, but this wine just didn’t cut the mustard relative to its peers. The dried fruit character was not the most flattering, as it wasn’t brightened by the spunk & lift of the previous producer's bottlings. The mouth-feel had a somewhat austere casing to it, with its hard edges poking out in their obviously brash youth. I left this wine w/ the impression that it was a closed/dumb phase, yet I’d be hard pressed to imagine it would show the class of the rest of the flight even at its apogee, 84 points.

Sadie Family Columella 2, Syrah Mourvedre, 2005
The Sadie Family has come up w/ a fantastic label for their Columella blend & a ‘wow’ nose to boot, with its intoxicating blend of dried flowers, cedar, cardamom and a spicy array of sun-baked black fruits. The plump, generously round entry makes way for a gutsy belly of flavor, still wearing primary clothing in soft textures. The one bugaboo I had w/ this showing was its length, which seemed to die down just as things were really getting exciting, 92 points.

De Trafford Shiraz, 2007
Save the bombshell for last, eh? She was a bombshell indeed, popping and crackling from the bouquet of melted licorice, bittersweet cocoa, blackberry liqueur and sweet toast notes. The palate is best described as an enveloping presence, all in symmetry, polish and dazzling proportion. David Trafford’s Shiraz was the class of the group, lithe & dark, with tantalizing purity. I’d love to see what this beauty does w/ a bit of bottle age, 95 points.

A brief epilogue:

I had the good fortune of connecting w/ Marc Kent of Boekenhoutskloof, David Trafford & the Mullineux family at a barbeque chez Pisoni in the Santa Lucia Highlands. This group of bright, spirited South Africans couldn’t have been more kind or diverse a group. They were quick to acknowledge the sharp learning curves they've faced, yet attack each new vintage w/ a curiosity & experimenting verve that shows they’re not afraid to fail. While Syrah was the theme of the HDR stage, what South African vignerons have been doing w/ Chenin Blanc shouldn’t go w/o mention. Just about every version of the grape outside the Cape comes in a straight varietal package, but in South Africa blending Chenin is fairly common practice for several producers, including Mullineux & De Trafford. It is not uncommon to find a dab of Viognier, Grenache Blanc or Clairette stirring in South African Chenin, with David Trafford’s eyeing Roussanne as another potential partner (his white wine vision reminds me of Bob Lindquist’s bottlings at Qupe, particularly w/ regards to aromatic lift & early harvesting). In addition to Chenin, I sampled a couple outrageously good South African Chardonnays which revealed Meursault-like richness & subtly nutty aromas in just a few years of bottle age.

To demonstrate the contrast in styles I alluded to earlier in Chenin, take Ken Forrester’s stainless steel fermented 2008 Petit Chenin vs. De Morgenzon’s 2006 barrel aged version. Both producers are top flight (De Morgenzon comes from Teddy Hall’s private label), yet each example represents opposing styles of the pendulum. For a twist on summer sipping, the Petit Chenin checks in w/ clean flavors of straw, grapefruit, quince & fresh flowers that zip along nicely over its bony frame. The ’08 is a bit ampler than previous vintages, yet still packs all the nerve & pizzazz of the bottling, 87 points. Now the flip side to Chenin’s coin, the De Morgenzon, is the product of full-throttle, native fermentation that ages on the lees for 15 months in new French Oak barrels. The nose brings a Vouvray Demi-Sec to mind, w/ its wild notes of honeysuckle, bee pollen, candle wax & persimmon fruit. Its palate is full, fat & expansive, turning bone dry on the back end. What really keeps this from being a malo’d up battonage bomb is its buried ripple of acidity, lighting the spark through the well defined finish, 92+ points.

While it is frustrating to me that wineries like the Mullineux family still don’t have an American home, I’m hopeful that they strike a healthy relationship w/ an importer sooner rather than later. As the presence and level of representation for South African wineries increases in the states, I encourage all Rhone-aholics to seek them out. Something tells me you’ll be just as impressed as the 300 or so that attended this past year’s Hospice du Rhone. They really have come a long way, baby!

Trick or Treat?

I attended a great BBQ over the weekend at the behest of Jay Hack, who outdid himself as evidenced by the raw tonnage of turkeys that met their demise in his deep fat frying tank. While there was an abundance of wines poured during the day, the resounding impression I was left w/ was one of…WTF is ‘The Treat’ and why did I put that cement mixer in my palate?

I'm not an uber negative guy, so let me preface w/ a couple positives:Big fan of the Cabot Syrah- great couple, inventive site selection (where the hell is Humbolt county anyway?) & distinctive juice. If Jim Gallagher wasn't pouring, most would believe the '95 Bedell to be a decent, plateau’d classified growth. His shtick for brown bagging Long Island wine is up (a la Jaouen's 'blind wine' being a Musar 9 times out of 10). The Jadot Moulin a Vent was another pleasant surprise (until hearing about the pricetag), which of course came from Leo alongside his '06 Sassicaia (which was a burly bitch of a Sass, very backward, tannic & powerful).

That said, the Treat deserves a bitch slap. First off, the wine is called Treat. Huge pet peeve. Anyone have any words that they loathe just for the sound of them? Nooks and crannies always pissed me off, something phonetically about it just grated on my eardrums. Treat is no better- what a friggin’ crappy word…and for consistency sake, what a friggin’ crappy wine. Wine caricatures happen; at least w/ Scholium there is a Star Trek-like vision and passion for obliterating enological boundaries w/ a bazooka, but the Treat ain’t no Scholium, nor is the Scholium much of a treat to the palate (god I hate the word treat). The treat tasted as if it were the fragmentary parts of a Turley Petite Sirah, bisected by a lumber fist & messily pieced together to make a deadline. While it isn’t quite as offensive as Heidi Barrett's Amuse Douche (I REALLY hate that wine), it’s almost as insipid. Is it really a cabernet? I mean sometimes varietal recognition doesn’t matter I guess, but come on! Wine product…this coming from a guy that likes acid and likes well-made ‘spoof.’

Now that I’ve got that pejorative saliva pumped from my glands, it is time to finally catch you all up w/ my recent trek to Paso Robles for the Hospice du Rhone. I’ll post my impressions in installments, with the first being a focus on South African Syrah. I hope you enjoy!

Ranting & Raving

Does Bordeaux ever piss you off? Personally, I don’t want to give it the satisfaction. The redundancy of another spring futures campaign is such a bland, stale parade that its predictability alone has allowed me to shut it off for the most part. That being said, the region’s dynamic hasn’t always been this way, has it? Read between the lines, right? Dog-shit years like ’91, ’92 & ’93 would get the ‘claret drinkers’ lip service. The aristocracy knew that high price tags couldn’t be sustained for wines that are as transparent as fishbowls, but they had to save face to keep the machine well oiled. We all get it. Then once the hype ignition lit a subsequent vintage aflame, the hoards would be dubious, but tingly nonetheless, right? I mean ups and downs make sense. Sullen, diffuse optimism for any period of time is just another way to prime the pump for a crazy wino. It readies them for their future crest of enthusiasm, while doubly allowing them to reserve a bit of excess funds from all those ho-hum vintages that rendered their buying decisions remarkably sane. A win-win.

Who needs Napa’s consistency? I mean if you want consistent, buy Napa- when it’s bad, it really aint that bad. When it’s great, it’s damn good, but come on, not THAT much better than last years polish. Doesn’t some of Bordeaux’s beauty lie in its climatic margins? Don’t the gray skies that shroud the flat gravel lands pave the way for the region’s black and white extremes to see-saw up & down the qualitative pyramid? A confluence of emotions, teetering up & down w/ excitement, depression and neurosis. Sounds great, right? Well sure, consider the alternative. Don’t get me wrong, I am not one-one hundredth as diluted as I seem to be. I’m hardly so foolish to suggest that ‘better, more consistent quality’ is a drawback to Bordeaux. It’s not. I don’t like bad Bordeaux. I’m not even that crazy about mediocre Bordeaux. That said, I have to admit that consistency makes Bordeaux far less viscerally attractive to me (and no, don’t give me that crap about ‘gee, you should be a Burgundy fan if you crave the heartbreak). My outside allure to Bordeaux was partly predicated on its variability, its moodiness. The great are truly singular, not just ‘cuz they’re great, but because they’re uniquely scarce gifts from Bacchus. After all those days of slugging through desiccated, dreary dregs of Cabernet, the sun finally kissed both banks of the Gironde. None of that ‘it rained, it poured…then the September sun saved the vintage’ crap. The suffering through astringency, wood tannins, gritty stems & teeth jarring acidity finally paved the way to something more than palatable, something memorable. Absence makes the heart grow fungus.

You get the gist. There’s no real suggestion here, just a nihilistic observation of sorts. See, nihilism, that’s the problem. I’m not willing to admit that it’s my problem that Bordeaux is boring me a bit. It can’t possibly be me! No indictment here, but I have to rant w/o direction when the fire is gone. I do seem to have diagnosed the bit. No volatility + no surprise = no passion. No fire. Another great year, if it really is, is becoming less about doubting the sales pitch and more about ‘didn’t we just have one?’ Well, I’m broke on 2000, I’m broke on 2005. Even if I had the money for ’08, ’09 and I’m sure 2010, 2011, 2012, blah blah blah…I don’t think I’d be able to buy w/ the fever of the past. My heart’s just not in it- perhaps it’s cured. I’ve been cured of a disease by witnessing a painful change, a change towards predictability. Wine has always kept my sanity out of check because of that very fact, its unpredictability. I’m deaf and dumb to the ‘nother great vintage.

Maybe when I taste this years champion I’ll sing a different tune, but as of right now, I’d rather drink something funky.