The Feiring Line

Guest Blogging for the New York Times

For a few weeks I'll be blogging off on the New York Times website HERE about my almost winemaking experience and what happened next. Who knows? I might even be blogging on my own site about what got cut from the blog or what it's like to blog for someone else, and if one blogs for someone else, is that blogging?

The 13.6 Alcohol Zin

The New York Times wine panel liked the 2004 Gravity Hills Zinfandel. I haven't tasted the 2004, so I can't comment on the wine but I can comment on the alcohol. Asimov wrote, "This wine came in at 13.6 percent alcohol, almost unheard of for a zin these days, and it came through as a nicely restrained, refreshing wine with attractive mineral, earthy notes. It was as if the wine's lack of mass and density permitted complexity to show through." Okay. I am not that trusting when it comes to wine and marketing spin. Given how prevalent alcohol adjustment is in California, I gotta ask; Reverse Osmosis? Water? Spinning Cone? At least in my own 'trust no one unless I know them," way, I have to pose the question, especially in a high alcohol district like Paso. And, I do wish my fellow journalists would ask as well, it's pretty relevant. Not that there's anything wrong with liking an artificially alcoholically reduced wine. I don't personally want to drink such fabrications. Like last night, I was visiting a friend in from France at the SoHo Grand. She was munching on some very processed sour cream and onion chips that did not try to pretend they were all-natural. "Really," she said in her South African accent, "You really can't eat these?" I can't. And I still adore her. Back to GH. I tried to get in touch with the winery last year when I got a rock (as a press release) in the mail to show me how minerally their wines were and how tough their soil was to work. I couldn't get a response. As reported by Alan Goldfarb of AppellationAmerica.com, the Formeauxs (formerly of Chateau Potelle) do seem to own 90 acres in Paso between Tablas Creek and Peachy Canyon, but their website is so misleading, and there's no address, that I get a sense of Brigadoon about the 'estate.' If anyone out there has any information? Bring it on.

The 13.6 Alcohol Zin

The New York Times wine panel liked the 2004 Gravity Hills Zinfandel. I haven't tasted the 2004, so I can't comment on the wine but I can comment on the alcohol. Asimov wrote, "This wine came in at 13.6 percent alcohol, almost unheard of for a zin these days, and it came through as a nicely restrained, refreshing wine with attractive mineral, earthy notes. It was as if the wine's lack of mass and density permitted complexity to show through." Okay. I am not that trusting when it comes to wine and marketing spin. Given how prevalent alcohol adjustment is in California, I gotta ask; Reverse Osmosis? Water? Spinning Cone? At least in my own 'trust no one unless I know them," way, I have to pose the question, especially in a high alcohol district like Paso. And, I do wish my fellow journalists would ask as well, it's pretty relevant. Not that there's anything wrong with liking an artificially alcoholically reduced wine. I don't personally want to drink such fabrications. Like last night, I was visiting a friend in from France at the SoHo Grand. She was munching on some very processed sour cream and onion chips that did not try to pretend they were all-natural. "Really," she said in her South African accent, "You really can't eat these?" I can't. And I still adore her. Back to GH. I tried to get in touch with the winery last year when I got a rock (as a press release) in the mail to show me how minerally their wines were and how tough their soil was to work. I couldn't get a response. As reported by Alan Goldfarb of AppellationAmerica.com, the Formeauxs (formerly of Chateau Potelle) do seem to own 90 acres in Paso between Tablas Creek and Peachy Canyon, but their website is so misleading, and there's no address, that I get a sense of Brigadoon about the 'estate.' If anyone out there has any information? Bring it on.

David Lett

I was saddened to hear the news that David Lett, Papa Pinot, who planted pinot noir in Oregon's Willamette Valley in 1969 and from there a wine region was born, died yesterday. I had only one opportunity to meet David. Three years ago I was out for Lisa Donoughe's Indie Wine festival and became reacquainted with the delicate and ageable beauty of the wines over a long and wine laden lunch. David at that lunch, after a long talk about malolactic fermentation He made wines stubbornly against the fashion. His son Jason followed thoughtfully down a similar path. He made wine the way the earth and weather moved and not the way certain critics whimed. There are few people these days who make a wine that tastes like Oregon, and Eyrie was indeed one of the remarkable few. A few months ago, Jason said to me, "Dad and I were thinking that it was time that you made your own wine, and we're going to offer you half- a -ton of grapes." I'm going to write more about this hypothetical situation in the coming days, but even though this offer never came to pass---(I would have traveled to Oregon today, the day of David's death became public, and not being a close friend of the family, not the most appropriate time to have me under foot)--the idea sparked plenty of thoughts and fantasies and fears and panic and elation and produced fruit of another kind. I salute David and extend many sympathies to his wife, children and those who were closest to him.

David Lett

I was saddened to hear the news that David Lett, Papa Pinot, who planted pinot noir in Oregon's Willamette Valley in 1969 and from there a wine region was born, died yesterday. I had only one opportunity to meet David. Three years ago I was out for Lisa Donoughe's Indie Wine festival and became reacquainted with the delicate and ageable beauty of the wines over a long and wine laden lunch. David at that lunch, after a long talk about malolactic fermentation He made wines stubbornly against the fashion. His son Jason followed thoughtfully down a similar path. He made wine the way the earth and weather moved and not the way certain critics whimed. There are few people these days who make a wine that tastes like Oregon, and Eyrie was indeed one of the remarkable few. A few months ago, Jason said to me, "Dad and I were thinking that it was time that you made your own wine, and we're going to offer you half- a -ton of grapes." I'm going to write more about this hypothetical situation in the coming days, but even though this offer never came to pass---(I would have traveled to Oregon today, the day of David's death became public, and not being a close friend of the family, not the most appropriate time to have me under foot)--the idea sparked plenty of thoughts and fantasies and fears and panic and elation and produced fruit of another kind. I salute David and extend many sympathies to his wife, children and those who were closest to him.

The Great Brunello Debate

Jeremy Parzen (disclosure, a good friend) serves up a terribly compelling examination of the Brunello scandal on Dobianchi and VinoWire. Get ready for his vigorous commentary on the explosion (discussion? nope!) between ex-director enologist for Castello Banfi Ezio Rivella, wine writer Franco Ziliani, and Serralunga winemaker who played a supporting role in my book, Teobaldo Cappellano. Dino Cutolo moderated. It makes no sense for me to blog Dr. J's blog, just go and read it HERE and HERE To hear Ezio actually say, Sangiovese is a lean grape with little color and that the Italian wine industry would be better served by using international grape varieties, and making wines more international in style. You don’t win a 100 points from the Wine Spectator, said Rivella, using just Sangiovese, brings out the latent radical in me---and makes me long for the days when Brunello had a point of view to take seriously to say instead of brown-nosing. There is something very wrong in the world, and just because people choose wine instead of politics, is just perhaps a more artistic symptom of choice. There is nothing to be done to change this kind of thinking but as flawed as the DOC/ AOC systems are, I am grateful for at least their modicum of protection. How do you say fascian victim in Italian?

The Great Brunello Debate

Jeremy Parzen (disclosure, a good friend) serves up a terribly compelling examination of the Brunello scandal on Dobianchi and VinoWire. Get ready for his vigorous commentary on the explosion (discussion? nope!) between ex-director enologist for Castello Banfi Ezio Rivella, wine writer Franco Ziliani, and Serralunga winemaker who played a supporting role in my book, Teobaldo Cappellano. Dino Cutolo moderated. It makes no sense for me to blog Dr. J's blog, just go and read it HERE and HERE To hear Ezio actually say, Sangiovese is a lean grape with little color and that the Italian wine industry would be better served by using international grape varieties, and making wines more international in style. You don’t win a 100 points from the Wine Spectator, said Rivella, using just Sangiovese, brings out the latent radical in me---and makes me long for the days when Brunello had a point of view to take seriously to say instead of brown-nosing. There is something very wrong in the world, and just because people choose wine instead of politics, is just perhaps a more artistic symptom of choice. There is nothing to be done to change this kind of thinking but as flawed as the DOC/ AOC systems are, I am grateful for at least their modicum of protection. How do you say fascian victim in Italian?

The Plumber (could it be the end of an era?)

Plumbers are threatened and confounded by my porcelain toilet/ pull chain mechanism. These plumbing pups have been brought up on the Home Depot variety and not the wisdom of the century old solution to fill and flush. They think I'm just attached to it out of eccentricity. They just don't know. Today, I have a guy in baggy pants working here. There's been a leak. This one is not charmed by wine. Wants no vinous love advice. Tells me no stories. Instead, he is cursing and bitching and saying the toilet has to come out. A new one has to go in. Not getting anywhere with me, he pulls my super over. Joseph feels my pain yet listens. I can see he is filled with sympathy for me as the baggy panter whispers into his ear. I hear it and see Joseph give in. They are behaving as if they are conspiring to have me hospitalized and don't want me to know the men in white suits and butterfly nets are coming for me. This is a sad day. I know this will come to no good at all. PART # 2 As the baggy panted man left, he winked (it's a thing, these days) and said with more than a touch of sadism, "Enjoy your new toilet." The other was an elephantine, almost 1950's modern decanter of a heavy, sturdy porcelain toilet, with an admittedly ugly black seat and lid. While I loved the black and whiteness of the ensemble, it really had seen better days. Yet it had weight. It had soul. Now, there is an extremely cheap though quite clean toilet in its place. But the water tank and the pull chain lives on. Thank you all for the tons of personal emails that poured in this morning.

The Plumber (could it be the end of an era?)

Plumbers are threatened and confounded by my porcelain toilet/ pull chain mechanism. These plumbing pups have been brought up on the Home Depot variety and not the wisdom of the century old solution to fill and flush. They think I'm just attached to it out of eccentricity. They just don't know. Today, I have a guy in baggy pants working here. There's been a leak. This one is not charmed by wine. Wants no vinous love advice. Tells me no stories. Instead, he is cursing and bitching and saying the toilet has to come out. A new one has to go in. Not getting anywhere with me, he pulls my super over. Joseph feels my pain yet listens. I can see he is filled with sympathy for me as the baggy panter whispers into his ear. I hear it and see Joseph give in. They are behaving as if they are conspiring to have me hospitalized and don't want me to know the men in white suits and butterfly nets are coming for me. This is a sad day. I know this will come to no good at all. PART # 2 As the baggy panted man left, he winked (it's a thing, these days) and said with more than a touch of sadism, "Enjoy your new toilet." The other was an elephantine, almost 1950's modern decanter of a heavy, sturdy porcelain toilet, with an admittedly ugly black seat and lid. While I loved the black and whiteness of the ensemble, it really had seen better days. Yet it had weight. It had soul. Now, there is an extremely cheap though quite clean toilet in its place. But the water tank and the pull chain lives on. Thank you all for the tons of personal emails that poured in this morning.

Far From Kosher: Washington Post

More about me than you need to know, but, that's what a blog is for. HERE