2007 Guenoc Sauvignon Blanc
Rating: ♠ ♠ ♠ 1/2

I’ll admit to not having the most refined palate in the world. While I like wine for its own sake, one of the things I love most about it is its rich history, which is why so many pages on this site are devoted to it. Some of my favorite wines, therefore, also come with a good back-story. In fact, a good tale on a fine wine is worth an extra 1/2 spade.

So I was excited when a rep sent me a sample bottle of the 2007 Guenoc Sauvignon Blanc. What’s its back-story? The Guenoc Valley and AVA lies north of the Napa Valley in Lake County, not far from picturesque Clear Lake, the largest fresh water lake in California. The area is known for its delicious Sauvignon Blancs, as well as for Cabs and Zins. None other than Lillie Langtry owned the vineyard between 1888 and 1906.

Fans of social, theatrical and royal history will remember Langtry, (aka, Emilie Charlotte Le Breton) as the notorious gilded age demimondaine and actress. Her lovers included Albert Edward, the Prince of Wales (later King Edward VII), Prince Louis of Battenberg (father of Mountbatten, last Viceroy of India) and the American multimillionaire industrialist, Freddie Gebhard, who bought her her own luxurious Pullman railroad car, the “Lalee.” Her portrait was painted by, among many lesser lights, Sir John Everett Millais, Sir Edward Poynter, Sir Edward Burne-Jones. Next to Sarah Bernhardt’s, Langtry’s image was probably the most recognized in the world at the time.

History records that Langtry arrived in St. Helena via the “Lalee,” and then staegcoached the rest of the way over Mt. St. Helena and into Lake County. According to the winery’s website, Langtry began making wines and had 51 tons of grapes crushed in her first pressing. With the help of her winemaker, a Frenchman named Henri Descelles, Langtry produced a wine which she proclaimed to be the “greatest claret in the country.”  The wine was bottled and sold imprinted with an image of her famous profile.

Langtry sold the property in 1906 and, hankering after her native England and the Isle of Jersey, where she was born, sailed back to Europe. She married Hugo de Bathe, 19 years her junior, and became Lady de Bathe. When Langtry sold the property, pre-Prohibition California wine-making was at its height, and California wines were sought after and prized, winning many medals in European capitals. A slow regression took place as the new century matured, with many wine-growers going for quantity over quality. Then Prohibition ruined much of what was left.

Luckily for us, Langtry’s vineyard somehow survived and, according to the winery’s website, when the current owners bought the property in the early 1960s, “a Syrah, Petit Verdot and white grape vines of mysterious origin were found on the hillside vineyard site after at least half a century of neglect.” The new owners then set about to follow in Langtry’s footsteps to produce the “greatest claret in the country,” and became the first vineyard in the U.S. to plant the five major Bordeaux varietals. I haven’t tried their “Langtry Red,” so I can’t say whether they have succeeded, but that will change soon.

For some years, the vineyard sold wines under the “Guenoc” label, which sported Langtry’s Greecian profile. Recently, however, they’ve changed their name to “Langtry Estate & Vineyards,” and now sell wines under that label. Though Guenoc is gone, Langtry’s face remains on the bottles*

But what of the wine? I took the bottle with me up to a cabin near Ukiah, not far from Clear Lake and the Langtry estate, where I was to spend part of my long Independence Day weekend with friends. Among these was Steve Waters, a long-time friend as well as a long-time rep for the inimitable Kermit Lynch, one of the top purveyors of imported French wines in the United States. (Yeah, talk about a tough crowd.)

We opened the 2007 Guenoc SB and were immediately struck by its freshness — not that it seemed immature, just fresh – as in refreshing. Of the nose, my roommate, Alicia, who always manages to come up with the most florid descriptors, proclaimed, “steely lavender.” I can’t argue with that: the nose was a brisk and cooling, with a touch of the floral. Others said, “hay bails,” “pear” “kiwi” and “star fruit.” Can’t argue with that either. I like a SB with a lot of grass to it, and I thought this could use a tad more. But I quibble.

The 2007 Guenoc SB is a fine daytime wine that would so well with light, refreshing meals, salad, nuts or cheese. And it has one hell of a back-story.

*You can still by Guenoc SB and other wines under the Guenoc label until the stocks run out.

2006 Altos Las Hormigas Malbec Mendoza
Rating: ♠ ♠ ♠ 1/2

Had the opportunity this past weekend to hole up at an Argentine wine cellar, doing some very judicious swirl and sip maneuvers. Up until now, I have been very excited-in-concept about Malbec. It seems that all of the grapes that go into the old Bordeaux “claret” take on a life of their own when liberated from from ensemble work. For us, the first breakout star was Cabernet Sauvignon from Napa. Then came Merlot. In Chile it has been Carmenère, and Malbec, is making itself at home in Argentina.
 
Down Argentine way, some Malbecs skew to the Beaujolais manqué, being a light and fruity quaff, a go-with-anything party in a bottle. And that’s fine. Some, possibly brooding over the decline of Argentina since Perón (it used to be the 2nd most affluent nation per capita in the Western hemisphere), are dark and dense. And that’s also fine.

Me being Goldilocks, I like Malbec to be “just right” with a red fruit freshness and some black fruit depth and finally some toasty aspects with decent (but not obnoxious) tannin support. The good news is that Argentines being Argentines, the whole International Style o’ Wine doesn’t hold much sway. (If my Argentine friends are anything to go by, Argentina is waiting for the the rest of the world to start making wines in the Argentine style.)

Also particularly good news is that since Argentines eat eleventy zillion calories’ worth of grilled beef every day, their wines are made pretty specifically to couple up with this bovine paradigm. Well-marbled beef grilled over a live fire is a cinch to knock the scratch off many a tannic fortress. The nice thing about these is that while, yes, there is some tannin there and also some oak (especially if it’s manifested as a “toastiness”), there is also really good acid present in a lovely balance. The latter two are key factors.
 
Many unfortunates who only skim these reports read things such as the above and begin howling. “I thought you hated wines that…” and the like. We hate wines that are clumsy, inelegant and oafish.This is because we, at Vinapedia Tower, are fully aware that wine is meant to go with something. (By this I mean “something beyond a gigapoint review from Big Wine Magazine.”) In order to harmonize with certain foods, a wine must have certain criteria present in a certain balance. Not rocket science, this. Argentine winemakers are to be commended for realizing that if some oak is good, then more oak is not necessarily better, and probably isn’t. Ditto tannins.
 
The other nice thing about Argentine Malbec is that prices are generally oscillating between “excellent value” and “larceny.” Schlepping through those available in the USA you’d have a bit of a job ahead of you to find many over $40. The other other nice thing about Malbec from Argentina is that it can age quite nicely. Most — even most of the ones I’d suggest — aren’t made for a real-l-l-ly long haul, but they definitely will mature wonderfully over the next 5-10 years.

Oh, one last thing. Malbec really likes aeration. A lot of the time “let the wine breathe” is just part of the oenophile dog-and-pony show, but in the case of malbec, there is an element of truth to it. Besides, it costs nothing.
 
Of the Goldilocks style of Malbec, I want you to give laserlike focus to the 2006 Altos Las Hormigas Malbec Mendoza. It has a bright, purple/ruby color. The bouquet is of blackberry/raspberry, cocoa/coffee, with a strong support of toasty, oaky spice and — we’re not crazy — leather, and an intriguing vanilla-coconut thing. Fresh, lush and delicate and sweet but not even remotely “sticky-sweet.” The fresh fruit aspect of this wine is what really sets it apart…highlighting the lovely, dense, texture and a long, firm finish with a tannic edge.

Pair this with wood-grilled steaks (especially something especially rich, like skirt steak) or black and blue lamb chops and pretend to be gaucho on the Pampas. At $11 a bottle, you’ll save enough to swing the airfare soon enough, even if you buy extras to lay down for the next 4 to 5 years.

—J.M. Garcia III 

2005 Solaire Chardonnay

Rating: ♠ ♠ ♠ 1/2 

2005 Solaire Cabernet Sauvignon 

Rating: ♠ ♠  1/2 (Now), ♠ ♠ ♠ - ♠  (Later)

“Sunshine” wasn’t the first word that came to mind when we dipped into Robert Mondavi’s 2005 Solaire Chardonnay and 2005 Solaire Cabernet Sauvignon, but it quickly became the consensus. These samples had come in the mail a few days before, and we — my roommates and I — had chosen to taste them together over a dinner of heirloom tomato and mozzarella di buffula salad followed by a pasta bolognese.

We started with the white, of course, letting the bottle sit out of the fridge for a while so that it wouldn’t be too cold, and letting it breathe a few minutes. The Solaire Chard comes from Mondavi’s Bianchi Bench vineyards, on the southeast-facing slopes of the Santa Lucia Highlands, above the Salinas Valley. It’s a nice spot for Chardonnay, as it gets the classic cool morning sea-breeze and the hot afternoon sun.

The Solaire has potent nose for a white, with notes of hazelnut, pineapple and apple blossom. Holding it up to the light, you can see a slight greenish cast in the clear, bright yellow reflections. It offered a full, big feel in the mouth yet seemed a bit more austere than many of your typical oaky-buttery California Chards. With medium tannins but pretty high acidity, you can really feel the heat — it leaves a lingering tart at the back of the palate — although it becomes more lush as it opens up in the glass. 

“It’s like driving down the Highway 99 when all the orchards are in peak bloom,” said my room-mate, Alicia.

We gave it three spades for flavor but four spades for aroma, leaving the 2005 Solaire Chard with a more-than-respectable average of 3 1/2 spades.  

“Feel the heat…” is a phrase that could well describe the Solaire 2005 Cabernet Sauvingon in its current state. That heat started right away in the nose, with a spicy, cayenne pepper aroma with hints of almonds, cocoa and stone fruits, like Italian plum.

While the Chard comes from the Santa Lucia Highlands, the Cab gets its grapes from the Paso Robles area, which experiences a much wider range of temperatures during the growing season (50F in the evenings, often over 100F during summer days), with a little bit of San Lucas, in Monterey County, mixed in — although the 2005 summer was comparitively mild.

Never mind. This wine is all about the heat. It’s up front flavors are tart and chocolaty, but with a lot of fruit  — “If jam was hot and dry,” my roommate, Dave, noted.

“It numbs my lips like a fireball candy,” said Alicia.

The spice of our pasta bolonese was not optimal against the spice in the wine. At present the 2005 would probably go better with a blander but meat-rich meal, like prime rib. What it really complimented was our dessert of Charles chocolate with crisp rice.

This is a great buy-now, enjoy-later wine, as it could probably use another year or two in the bottle to smooth out its rough ages and mellow its hot-hot heat and spice. It should only improve with age.

2006 Erbaluce di Caluso, Favaro le Chiusure  

Rating: ♠ ♠ 1/2 

2005 Nuits St. Georges 1er Cru, Domaine Forey Pere & Fils  

Rating: ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠

Wine merchants Ted (who I have known since Model Rocket Club in Jr. High School) and Kristen Talley own Terra Firma Wine Company, based in Oakland California. Last week we went to dinner together at the the trendy new eatery, Flora, in Oakland’s’ revitalized downtown district.

Tucked in an old tile-faced art deco building, Flora is perhaps one of the most poorly named new restaurants. You’d think a place called “Flora” would specialize in, well, flora — as in vegetables, No so. Flora’s menu, which bills itself as Mexican-influenced, is pretty much all meat, all the time. But then, what is meat, after all, but condensed vegetables? Anyway, “Fauna” would be a better name. I started with a venison appetizer and then moved on to a super tender New York strip. It was excellent.

 We started with a white, purchased from Flora: a 2006 Erbaluce di Caluso, Favaro le Chiusure. Erbaluce hails from Piverone, in the far Northwest of Italy, near the Serra Mountain. According to Vinobravo, the Favaro family grows its 100 percent Erbaluce grapes on just 30 acres. 

The first thing to hit me was the wine’s pineapple-like nose and its almost surprising, effervescent quality on my tongue. It was almost like a sip of pineapple Pop Rocks. (Do they even make Pop Rocks, anymore?) It reminded me of an Arneis. Unfortunately the wine was over-chilled, giving it, at first, a rather “steely” quality that didn’t sit so well with the its nascent bubbliciousness. (Get with it, Flora.) After a while, though, it warmed and opened up a bit and offered a bit of macadamia on the finish. All-in-all quite nice.

 Next up, Ted brought out one of his imports, a 2005 Nuits St. Georges 1er Cru from Domaine Forey Pere & Fils. This Burgundy, (100 percent Pinot Noir) hails from the Côte de Nuits, the northern part of the Côte d’Or (the Côte de Beaune being to the south). Domaine Forey Pere & Fils small, 9 1/2 hectare vineyards, which has been turning out superb wines since 1840, is on the southern slope of the hills — which Ted tells me is considered “the manly side” — between the too-rich bottom soil and too-sparse top soil, and where it has exposure to the morning and midday sun.

 This wine, also known as “Les St. Georges,” offers up an earthy, young nose with a hint of peppery spice. It is robust, grittily tannic — almost explosively tannic at first, in fact — though with a fairly easy balance once it opens up a bit. You can really taste the marble on which it is grown. Even so, this wine, while pretty darn good now, could probably use a year or two more in the bottle, and should age well for years to come.

Definitely one to buy now and savor later. 

Say “Texas” in a word association test and the one thing that probably does not automatically spring to mind is “wine.” “Longhorns,” “cowboys” and “oil,” sure, but probably not wine.

And that’s a shame because Texas is now the U.S.’s number five grape producer, with 220 family-owned vineyards taking up 3,700 acres, according to GoTexanWine.org. The Texan wine industry provides more than 8,000 of the state’s jobs. Texas even boasts an important wine pioneer among its natives. Texan Viticulturist Thomas Munson developed phylloxera-resistant rootstock, which helped save the European wine industry from that dreaded bug threatened to destroy it. Munson is honored in France with his own statues.

Still, wine growing is a nascent business in the state, with most its wineries less than two decades old. That’s no doubt part of the reason that we don’t associate Texas with wine. The other is that most Texas wineries are still small farms that produce limited batches, most al of which are enjoyed within the state.

Not that Texas doesn’t have a history of wine-making. In fact, wine-making in Texas goes back to Spanish times. But, like elsewhere in the country, the 14th amendment and prohibition pretty much wiped the industry out.

I visited a number of wineries on recent trip through the Texas Hill Country, two of which I’ll talk about here. I drove from San Antonio (home of The Alamo) up State Highway 281, through Johnson City (home of the American president of the same name), Marble Falls, Lampasas, and Mineral Wells to Bridgeport and Wichita Falls, stopping here and there along the way. Lovely bit of country riddled with cowboy history, legend and lore.

Texas Hills Vineyards
First stop was Texas Hills Vineyards, near Johnson City, about 100 clicks north of San Antonio. Owned by Gary and Kathy Gilstrap, along with their son, Dale Rassett, THV, as we’ll dub it, has been producing award-winning wines for a little over a decade.

The tasting room, up a little drive next to the green vineyard, is convivial and friendly. Most Texans still don’t know much about wine (though I reckon most Californians don’t really, either), so it falls upon those working the tasting room to educate, and this they do well.

When I approached the counter, the woman there asked if I should prefer to taste dry or sweet wines. This I found interesting. In California and elsewhere, sweet dessert wines are usually considered an afterthought in the tasting order. Further conversation revealed that most sweet wines grow well in the Texan climate, and are also quite popular with the locals, who are used to other sweet liquors, such and bourbon whiskey, and soft drinks, like Coca-Cola and sweet iced tea. For all it’s rootin’-tootin’ history, Texas, or many parts of it, is not all that friendly to alcohol, and many counties there are still “dry,” a fact that no doubt has not helped Texas’ wine industry.

Not having much of a sweet tooth, I chose dry wines. THV estate grapes include Pinot Grigio, Sangiovese, Moscato, Chardonnay, Merlot, and Chenin Blanc. They also buy grapes from other local vineyards to make their Cinque Vino Rosso, Kick Butt Cab and Vino Dolce dessert wine.

2006 Due Bianco
Rating: ♠ ♠ ½
A blend of 21 percent Pinot Grigio and 70 percent Chardonnay, this crisp, light little number offers citrus and melon notes but has a slight finish and a rather steely nose. I was surprised that with so much Chard I didn’t get a creamier feel and more oak, but I rather liked that. I hate too much oak. A good, everyday wine with oysters and such.

2004 Cinque Vino Rosso
Rating: ♠ ♠ ♠
A very interesting little blend of – no kidding – Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Ruby Cab, Sangiovese and Syrah. Usually you don’t see so much blending of Frog grapes with Eye-tie grapes, but hey, it’s the 21st century and anything goes. The result of this mutt: Pretty good. Lots of berry and black fruit notes with a little pepper on the back end. There’s also a good back-story to this wine. It was originally dubbed “Tres Pisano” and contained only three grapes. Then Gallo, which produces a wine called “Tre Paesano” threatened to sue for copyright infringement. So they added two more grapes and changed the name. Gotta love the wine business.

2005 Syrah
Rating: ♠ ♠
Being a Syrah lover I had to try this one. I can’t say I was blown away, but I wasn’t disappointed, either. Certainly better than the syrup they’re mass producing in Australia these days under the rubric Shiraz. This Syrah has a slight but distinctive fruit nose, cream flavors and a short but definite finish.

2005 Kick Butt Cab
Rating: ♠ ♠ 1/2
A good food wine, KBC here has a strong, alcoholic nose, and seems to have just the right amount of tannins and spice from being aged in American oak. It’s funny, THV’s website brags that KBC is made from 22-year-old vines. Sorry, ya’ll, but you don’t get to brag about the age of your vines unless they are older than me!

Brushy Creek Vineyards
Winegrower Les Constable is the brains behind Brushy Creek Vineyards in Alvord, an hour Northwest of Fort Worth, just off of US 287. A jolly elder gentleman who reminded me of 19th century “Old Saint Nick” Christmas illustrations, Constable’s goal is, as he puts it, “to make the very best wines that Texas can make.” 

It’s a trial and error process. A retired technology professional, Constable has been producing wines for about a decade. He currently grows or works with no less than 36 different grape varieties and produces some 30 wines, mostly in small batches, trying to figure out which will work best in the warm, sometimes humid Texas climate. Unlike coastal California or Northern France, Texas doesn’t usually have the morning chill that grapes of French provenance like so well. And while the afternoons are often hot, they’re not as dry for much of the year. So making California and French-style wines it tricky.

That’s why Constable is experimenting with grapes native to areas of the world whose climates are closer to that of Texas than to France or California: the Black Sea area, Hungary, Romania, parts of Spain and so forth. Smart guy, Constable.

2007 Rkatsitely
Rating: ♠ ♠ ♠ 1/2
Rkat-a-what?! Right, that’s what I said. Rkatsitely is a white Black Sea grape, and in Constable’s hand makes a wine that is surprisingly like Chablis – a little metallic, a little citrusy but also a little velvety. This is a total quaffer. Just don’t try to pronounce it. I later drank a bottle with my Texan cousins over dinner: We barbequed their prize pig, Stedman.  Rkatsitely, I can tell you, is great with barbequed Stedman.

NV Mirage Table Wine
Rating: **
This highly drinkable table vino is 50/50 Shiraz and Mourvedre. Slightly tawny in color with an earthy nose, this is a good any-time-of-day wine.

NV Three Friends
Rating: ♠ ♠
A blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Shiraz and Mourvedre, this one has a dull ruby color and was a little fruitier and fuller than the Mirage. Very fruit forward, yet dry, with a short finish.

2006 Tempranillo
Rating: ♠ ♠ ♠
Another of Constable’s risk-takers, this Spanish varietal is proving to be a good choice for the Texan soil. With a dense, tawny color and a caramel nose, this wine has a hint of spice as it touches the palate. It’s velvety up front with a tannic finish that should go well with most meat dishes. I definitely got the feeling, though, that after about another year or so in the bottle it would be good for another half spade on our rating scale, maybe even a full spade.

Texas’ wine industry certainly has a ways to go (note that while I visited several wineries, I saw fit only to buy from, and write about, two). But with chaps like Constable taking chances, it’s certainly on its way.

2005 Clos l’Eglise Cotes de Castillon 

Rating: ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ (♠)

If you inflict yourself with superfluous wine publications, you will be (at least dimly) aware the 2005 Bordeaux has been touted as the “Vintage of the Century!” Setting aside such logic gyrations needed to say this only 5 years into the century, and also setting aside the fact we normally hear “Vintage of the Century!” twice a decade, this chant — which has reached even our ears at the penthouse of Vinapedia Tower — can be decoded as meaning “these wines are probably pretty good.”
 
But, let’s look at things a bit more carefully. What do we mean when we say “Vintage of the Century!”? My interpretation is that during said vintages, even the vintners who normally make pretty good wines stand an excellent chance of making spectacular, epoch-shattering stuff. The guys who are just a furlong down the road from the Big Names and have keen, sharp winemakers who mightn’t have the resources, year-in and year-out to make monumental wines.
 
For these guys, who have to maximize whatever opportunity they get to make the world sit up and take notice, 2005 was such a year. The weather cooperated, the wine makers were in a benevolent mood, the harvesters were pleased with their daily rations of Gitanes and Gauloises and all went well. Thus, 2005 wins Vinapedia’s award for Vintage of the Century of the Year.
 
Having our antennae now keenly attuned to the added excellentness Ma Nature chose to heap upon wines of that time and place, we waited for the opportunity to cadge some freebie tastings. Sure enough, Aloha Tom, flush with glee at his new Reyn Spooner shirts and Panama hat to cover his greying bald spot and focus attention to his greying beard and ponytail instead gave the signal: Aloha Tom’s Wine Hut would be having a tasting of selected 2005s. These wines have begun to arrive and/or will be arriving shortly. I didn’t ask which were which, because a man who goes around wearing shirts emblazoned with flourescent tropical produce is clearly fearless and therefore capable of anything when riled.
 
I must say that when you taste wines that are supposed to be Big Important Reds when they are young, you must use your imagination. These wines are not, in the overwhelming majority of the cases, ready to drink. They need rest. Repose. Lots of it. So you must think of what it’d be like to taste this wine after it has had time to calm down and take a shower and learn some manners. Like in the case of goverment statistics based on “seasonally adjusted data” there is some very educated guesswork at play. The better the wine, the less “guessy” the opinions.
 
Anyway. The tasting. I must admit that Aloha Tom, resplendent in his shirt adorned with stylized kiwi and passion fruit, selected his wines very well. Either that or he put out what he was sent and got very, very lucky. I went around and purposefully avoided looking at labels or prices. I avoided the edibles. All of the wines were wines I could see being spectacular with cellaring, and I was eager to find something for me to latch on.
 
(When I was but a mere lad of 18 — those being the days when the drinking age coincided with the age at which one could bear arms for one’s country or help elect its representatives — I managed to score some 1982 Ch. Pontet Canet. It took my little all, but I bought a case, and the wisdom of that youthful choice beams back at me as I stand on the threshhold of respectable middle age.)
 
So I know what I’m after and I’m pleased to report I have found it.
 
Most of those wines start in at $75 per bottle and shoot skyward from there. Which is a pity, really. At the end of the night I reviewed my notes and I saw that my favorite wine, which I preferred by only the very slimmest, most translucent of margins to my second favorite, cost $270 per bottle. (Ch. Leoville Las Cases, in case you’re stumped for gifts) Most of my other favorites frolicked and gamboled merrily in the $200-$350 per bottle range. But… what about that second favorite?
 
That, friends, is but a piddly $30. Three-zero. Thirty. Roll it over in your mind and let it fall trippingly off your tongue. Three Hamiltons. You simply MUST steal this wine and, while you’re at it, steal a cubic truckload of it. It’s the 2005 Clos l’Eglise Cotes de Castillon. Normally I’d hush it up, but I already got mine.
 
At some places you can get it for the “futures” price and even if you can’t, you’re only staring at $30/bottle, which is closer to “free” than its real worth. I have no higher praise for a wine than this: I got, with my very own cash, two cases of it. None of this “Charge it to Vinapedia, Tom! and aloha to you and Mrs. Tom!” stuff. Out of my own pocket.
 
This wine, even it it remains a relative bargain to the other 2005s, will only go up in price. (The other 2005 Bordeaux’s prices will certainly hit nosebleed altitudes pretty soon.) So get it now. As in, pause from your daily grind and order a case now.
 
Also, make sure you get the right one which is not the one in Pomerol (that one has a price tage to make your eyes water freely).

Here are my notes, verbatim: Pure ruby [color]. Complex and lively aroma. Cherry, raspberry and a little anise. Hint [of] minerals. Has a ripe sweetness, with a fruity sort of lushness. Elegant acidity and strong tannic presence for amazing balance. That earthy-mineral thing is pleasantly noticeable. Long finish. Very suave, subtle and long on the finish. I’d say this can only improve in the cellar, and I’d even say it can handle 15-25 years, though I might be tempted in 10 to check its progress.

Now, at this point the less attentive in the audience might start to whoop and holler about my previous railings against Big Red Wines. Which is wrong. I rail against wines that seek fame and fortune based on fat scores, not from hewing close to the varietal and geographical characteristics of a given wine, but borne of imitating other giga-point wines. This wine is very true to the Bodeaux character, not the Bordeaux caricatute. It is sublime and I’d give it 6 spades if The Proprietor would allow me.

2005 Pazo de Señorans 

Rating: ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠

One of the unexpected fringe benefits of being — simultaneously — something a pioneer, a raving cheapskate, and a man of exacting and refined tastes is finding new-to-us wines. Discovering, much like Columbus discovered Ohio, something to share with those similarly predisposed. Thus far, my ruminations and suggestions have mostly embraced red wine because, well, that’s just the way I roll. But there is much to recommend the white wines once you manage to effect an a Plisskinesque escape from Done To Death. The white wine which has caught my fancy of late is the Albariño from the Rías Baixas, in the Galician part of Spain. Galicia is the northwesternmost region of Spain, and it’s best known for it’s fjord-like coastline and estuaries called in the local dialect “Rías Baixas” probably because a word like fjord gives the Iberic tongue an ambarrassing pain, to say nothing of being Norwegian. But I digress.
 
As a wine hub, this place has made its reputation mostly (OK, solely) on the white wines which are produced from the otherwise unknown Albariño grape, which have proven to be something of a surprise hit. I say something of a surprise, because white wines have also suffered from the dreaded Internationalization Plague, and have often become butterier, fatter, oakier, an so forth. As our taste for seafood grows and our palates learn to discern better, it’s only natural to gravitate towards wines that are crisper and lighter and “racier.” In keeping with this, the archetypal Rías Baixas wines tend to be monumentally aromatic: Herby, citrusy and apricot/peachy all tend to be adjectives that fly around when these wines are the focus of a tasting. Very happily for people who enjoy eating seafood that is not lobster aswim in butter, the Albariño wines (at least from the Rías Baixas) only sees oak when being transported through a forest. This allows its natural racy acidity to help it marry spectacularly with seafood, especially those ultrafresh examples where its briny-sweet character is on display.
 
Of these wines (and you have a mission ahead of you to find a bad one) I’m partial to those from Pazo de Señorans. This winery belongs to a crusader of sorts. In the late 1980s, its owner, Marisol Bueno helped spearhead the appellation, which now benefits from a Denominación de Origen. As a result of her efforts, the appellation was formally born in 1988, with the happy result of quality benchmarks, which in turn begat worldwide recognition. As befits someone interested in keeping things as close to the traditional ideal, her estate is one property among the few still operating in a family-owned model. By design, it has resisted expansion in order to keep up a near-fanatical level of quality. So you can imagine how well-pruned teh vines are, keeping the yields nice and low.
 
Now, the wines of Rías Baixas are very much influenced by the proximity of the Atlantic, which gives the place a verdant character with a hint of salty tang in the breezes. (I’ve been there, and unlikely as it sounds, it does have a salty tang.) Yes, it has lots of rainfall and humidity. This keeps the temperatures in the moderate range and affords the region a very fertile profile. From looking at it, you’d swear the countryside was the love child of Ireland and Norway, with its fjord-lets and a surplus of green, gently rolling hills. It’s on these hills the vines are planted, under which lies rich and minerally soil. Pazo de Señorans is at the northernmost part of the Rías Baixas.

The 2005 Pazo de Señorans definitely lives up to expectations. The color is a pale, bright gold, and it has a minerally bouquet with a riot (in a good way) of apricot/peachy notes. On the palate, you are immediately aware of its dry and crisp nature, that yields to an intense outburst of peach subtext, with additional honeyed elements and a slight richness from sitting on its lees. The finish? You should live so long. Naturally, it’s not oaked and thus is ideal for the lighter, brinier seafoods. Think oysters in mignonette or not overly brash crudos or even simply grilled flounder/sole or seabass, maybe with a delicate herb crust and a spritz of citrus. This wine is spectacularly delicious.
 
5 spades. Yes, 5.

A Journey to Napa’s Rubissow-Sargent winery

By Leslie Nesbitt

 “This wine has balls.”

The waiter giggled and so did I. I had just tasted a smashing Cabernet at Ford’s Filling Station in Culver City, Calif., I had eaten there many times and knew the food was consistently good. I was trying Rubissow-Sargent wine for the first time.

Later I Googled Rubissow to see where I might buy a bottle or case in the Los Angeles area. One independent distributor was listed. Several Los Angeles restaurants were mentioned which offer the wine by the glass or bottle. The Rubissow website also noted that they were searching for a person or couple to oversee the vineyard and house. My husband Greg and I joked about our moving from busy Los Angeles to sleepy Napa, quickly transforming into Grant Woods’”American Gothic” painting.

Fast-forward to four months later. Greg and I are visiting in Mill Valley, Calif., and we rent a car and drive to the Napa Valley Rubissow-Sargent estate. (We had queried them online and received an invite to our own private tasting the next day.) After passing through the Napa city limits, we drove a narrow winding road draped by autumnal trees. We were instructed to make a left at the blue mailbox. We spotted the mailbox and turned, leaving the paved road onto a gravel incline. “10 mph,” said the sign. After climbing a few slopes we stopped before a high wire gate marked ”Please close gate; keep the deer out.” I love this kind of discovery and adventure. Totally non-commercial and certainly not gussied up to accommodate the lumbering tourist. Right on !   

Melinda greeted us warmly on the porch of the 105 year old farm house adjacent to the vineyards. It was she who had gotten the advertised job of  house and visitor caretaker! She said 100 people had applied for the job. She has a degree in agriculture and enjoyed the solitude offered by her new post. She told us she has dial-up internet only and occasional cell phone reception.

Seated at a rustic picnic table, we tasted several Rubissow-Sargent blends. (Cabernet Franc 65 percent and Merlot 35 percent.) A rustic plate set before us offered Spanish manchego cheese, crackers and raw almonds. While sipping the richly intense meritage, we marveled at the verdant landscape and hummingbirds that darted by. Indeed we had arrived on a day of warm sunshine and stunning blue skies. A painted crockery vase sat nearby awaiting our discards. Not a chance. Too good to toss.

The blends were both labeled 2003 which we learned means the year of harvest, not the year bottled. Named “Trompettes,” they are part of the Rubissow insignia. Next we tasted a smashing merlot. Flavors of black plums and dark cherry with a rich finish were bold companions to the sharp cheese. Strolling the grounds with glasses in hand Melinda answered our questions, spilled a bit of family gossip* and instructed us in the makings of the wine. Rusissow-Sargent produces just 2,000-3,000 cases each year, well under the 5,000 cases that mark a small production.

The vineyard is wholly organic. Returning to the front porch (think TV’s Petticoat Junction minus Uncle Joe,) the Cabernet was poured. Yes, my “warrior” Cabernet. Memory did serve. The wine’s wonderful density rang out on my tongue. I tasted clean rich lavender and other herbal aromas. The finish was strong and  bold. Each drop earthy and berry-beautiful, just like the night at I was first introduced. Some may consider my choice of blue phrase that night at Fords boorish, but I can’t think of a better compliment. This Cabernet demands a ribald moniker. 

* I took a pledge of secrecy, so shshshsh!

The more cynical among us will note that Chicago’s Al Capone was the last person in America to celebrate St. Valentine’s Day in the manner it truly deserves. Fast forwarding sixty-some years and it takes an Capone-like lifestyle (or shouting about it in rhymes) to afford the big names in sparkling wines. Unless you are sporting a three carat Asscher cut stud in your tie or earlobe (it’s a bit nouveau to go for both), Cristal or Dom Perignon is pretty much beyond your grasp.

When we speak of sparkling wine, we are not speaking only of Champagne or even only of its offspring of varying degress of legitimacy, i.e., methode champenoise wines. There are also crémant wine, frizzantes, spumantes, and so forth. Prosecco, the new kid on the carbonated block, we’ll leave for another time. This is St. Valentine’s season and your Valentine is expecting “champagne, caviar and chocolate.”

We can’t help you with the latter two as this is Vinapedia and not Caviarpedia or Chocopedia. We can go as far as saying that champagne doesn’t actually taste very good with either, not that mant will heed our sage advice, and will force these combinations past unsuspecting uvulae, and wonder why all the fuss and expense. OK. You’ve been warned.

At any rate, the methode champenoise way of making wine is a bit different from your usual winemaking. You’ll note that very few winemakers do both champenoise and still wines. Store that thought for future rumination. Anyway, for more detail on the whole cast of sparklies, click here. The brief version is: The grape is usually Chardonnay, but variations made with Pinot Noir and/or Pinot Meunier exist. The wine, after bottling, undergoes a second in-the-bottle fermentation and the residual sugar determines the sweetness. “Brut” is the second least sweet and the emblematic style of Champagne.

It is the consensus of the board here at Vinapedia Tower that gigabuck non-vintage champagne/Champenoise is a mug’s game. Many of the bottlings generally associated with well-armed gentlemen in white fur coats carry price tags that would make a masochist wince and, frankly, are not especially more wonderful than others with the decimal point scooted over one spot to the left. Also, the “NV” (that is, “non-vintage”) bottlings are made with a very keen eye for consistency in the house style; something which has been perfected after decades of expert palates being in charge.

Another interesting semi-secret worthy of your inspection. champenoise/Champagne wines are available in half (or even quarter!) bottles to a far greater degree than its their still cousins. This is especially noteworthy if your beloved is infinitely likelier to look longingly at the bed for slumber purposes as a consequence of more-than-usual wine consumption. I’m just saying. You save some of the expense (although half the wine costs more than half the price) and bother of storing an opened bottle of bubbly. Beside, smaller bottles make some people gush “It’s so cute!”

Here are my suggestions:

NV Domaine Chandon Etoile Brut Napa/Sonoma County ($30)
This wine is about 3:1 Chardonnay : Pinot Noir (instead of the more customary) 100% Chardonnay, but this blend is geared specifically to afford the drinker more of a stereotypical Blanc de Blancs experience than others which wave that nomenclature. It has a crisp, Granny Smith apple aroma with hints of cloves and nutmeg and it has a creamy and very slightly toasted yeast thing happening there. The bubbles are persistent pinpricks that constantly massage your palate in a refreshing manner, and despite its Californianness, it tastes precisely the way a Chandon from Champagne would. To those sophomore Vinapedics just graduating to sparkling wines this is an ideal Champenoise, with its fruitier-than-usual characteristics. Rating: ♠ ♠ ♠

NV Louis Roederer Brut Premier ($32, $20 for the half bottle.)
If the previous bottle was a Californian that tasted of its France, this is a French one that brings to mind its California cousins, although it brings forth a touch less fruit and touch more yeast creaminess than Roederer’s California bottlings. Still, breeding will out, and the gene pool comes through bright and clear. The color is an apple-green, with aromas of apples and pears; flavors are citrus (call me crazy, but I’m thinking tangerine) and yeast and honey. Maybe even a wisp of smoke and cinnamon/pepper, too. Rating: ♠ ♠ ♠1/2

NV Laurent Perrier Brut L-P ($33, $19/half bottle)
This is for more seasoned Vinapedics. Clearly it stands proudly, hands on hips with its cape flapping in the twilight breeze and “Brut” emblazoned on its chest. Bright gold, it has citrus (Meyer lemon springs to mind) and green apple overtones a yeast thing tahst reminds me exactly of cake yeast when you crumble it. It also has a slight minerality balanced by an equally slight butterscotchy thing. It has a lovely (and lively) “mouthroundfulness” with pleasant spiciness and insistent finish. Rating: ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠

Snob Tip: The “regular” NV Laurent Perrier Brut is almost as good and slightly more easy to find. Price is within a buck.

— J.M. Garcia III

Great Tasting Wines!

by Alex A. Kecskes

From the far corners of the world, there are literally hundreds of wines with unusual names. For example, there’s a Chardonnay called Fat Bastard and a Sauvignon Blanc called Cat’s Pee on a Gooseberry Bush. These two wines are best sellers and are two of the amusing names you might come across in your travels. All told, there are more than 230 unusual labels from as far removed from “wine country” as China, Thailand, and thirty-two other countries offering vintages dating from 1972.

Available every day throughout Greece, Retsina is a style of wine you won’t find anywhere else. Aged in pinewood barrels, the pine resin imbues what is often described as an acquired taste. If you’re visiting South Africa, try Andrews Hope, the inaugural vintage from The Spice Route Company. It received its name from the home of Jabulani Ntshangase, South Africa’s first Zulu vineyard owner.
 
Back to familiar wine tasting haunts, you might treat your palate to The Cataclysm from J Lohr Winery in San Jose. The label — resembling the graph from an earthquake monitor — tells the story of this unlucky vintage: Caberbet Sauvignon from one of Napa’s premiere vineyards. Harvested on 17 October 1989, the day of the San Francisco earthquake. The traumatised vines were then chainsawed and replaced by Merlot: the ultimate in stressed vines. Hasta la vista Cabernet! The back label with the trembling vine giving up its fruit needs no words.
 
A pleasant dry fruity blend of Trebbiano and Malvasio varieties, Est! Est!! Est has quite an interesting history. In 1110, Bishop Johann Fugger’s servant was sent ahead to find suitable inns to stay and was told to mark the doors of those with truly excellent wines.  When the Bishop finally arrived at a small hilltop village of Montefiascone, overlooking Lake Bolsena, he discovered one inn whose door was marked Est! Est!! Est. The Bishop imbibed and the wine was so much to the Bishops liking, he stayed there until the end of his days. He even specified in his will that a barrel of the wine should be poured over his tomb annually on the anniversary of his death.

In Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley, wine maker Serge Hochar painstakingly creates Chateau Musars, an exceptional world-class wine from a blend of cabernet sauvignon and local grapes. Even during the fierce civil strife that gripped Lebanon, grapes were gathered under the bullets and rockets of local warlords. The winery was repeatedly cratered by shells, and delivery trucks ran roadblock after roadblock. Nonetheless, wine aficionados around the world were able to enjoy the delightful taste of Chateau Musars.

What? A wine called Fat Bastard? True. It’s a southern French chardonnay that has rapidly become the biggest seller in the U.S. Its unfortunate name arose when Guy Anderson was visiting French winemaker Thierry Boudinard. The plan was to launch a new brand, but they were in search of a worthy wine and name. They then embarked on a wine tasting journey, sampling every available wine. Thierry, who had just returned from a wine making stint in Australia, sampled a surprisingly robust chardonnay. Showing off his new vocabulary, he turned to Guy and said, “Taste zis fat bastard!”

(Try Fat Bastard from Wine.com)

When Kenwood Vineyards set to launch its premium Artist Series collection in 1975, its label featured a tasteful reclining nude, for which it quickly became known to local Sonomans as the ‘Naked Lady’ label. Unfortunately, the new collection had a short initial bottling, for the U.S. Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms claimed the label was obscene and indecent, so only 50 cases found their way to market. Kenwood protested, whimsically resubmitting the label with a reclining skeleton. But the Bureau nixed this as well. Then, in 1997, the ‘Naked Lady’ was resubmitted. Prudishness gave way to the new liberalism of artistic expression and the label was approved. Now, a decade after its rebirth, one of the world’s most renowned collections of wine can once again be enjoyed by all.

For classic film buffs, there’s Marilyn Merlot (no it’s not a misspelling). Each vintage features a different image of Marilyn Monroe and a unique label design. The Marilyn Monroe image, licensed to Nova Wines by Marilyn Monroe’s estate, has as its beneficiaries Anna Strasberg, widow of famed acting coach Lee Strasberg, who was Marilyn Monroe’s friend, and the Anna Freud Center for Child Psychiatry.

Now for the name you’ve been waiting for—Cat’s Pee on a Gooseberry Bush. How did this moniker come to be? It all started when TV’s zaftig Jilly Goolden described the experience of drinking New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc as not unlike ‘diving into a gooseberry bush.’ Some believe the rather socially awkward name came from her colleague Oz Clarke who coined “cat’s pee on a gooseberry bush.” And so it goes that this description became the name for a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, now one of the biggest selling wines in Britain. In a surprisingly prudish attempt to scrub clean the name, the second word in the name is spelled ‘Phee’ in the U.S. Silly Americans.

By any other name, a rose is just a rose and a wine is just a wine—enjoy!