The Feiring Line

Strohmeier ( Austrian Series #2)

 Can you believe it? In the land of NZ-styled SB Gruner yeasts, in the home of loess and primary rock, in Austria, I stumbled into a world of winemakers who work minimally.  And thanks to the Gravner worship, there is an insane interest in amphora, the new barrique.

 Even more surprising is that the  group of extremists making gorgeous wine, outside of the mainstream, are barely available in the States. With all of the wine importers combing Austria for gruner and  rieslings and with all of the new importers looking to be the new Joe Dressner or José Pastor, you'd think that someone was on to them, right?  

Many of these folk are in Styria, the area close to the Slovenian border mostly known for piercing and paint by numbers sauvignon blanc.  In the area, my first stop was near Stainz to taste Franz Strohmeier. 

His house was festooned and I said to myself, "These people are crazy. In a good way." I don't know why, but that was my instinct. I met Franz and his wife Christine (great cook, lovely lunch, asparagus soup and a quiche that had snow peas but packed with flavor), a couple who seem in love and have three chidren and live in their winery.

Franz is part of a small group of Biodynamic winemakers who call themselves Schmecke das Leben, which even in yiddish means, taste the life. I was like, right, I'll believe that when I taste it, but even I had to admit that the term had a naive sweetness. Never did I think the wines would live up to the name.

 
 We went  to the vines in his father's backyard a few meters away. He works 12h  of rural land, next to the forest, cuckoos in the background. Mildew is a problem here and that makes copper sulfate a necessity, though he has replaced sulfur with whey, which he finds works. He is trying to use less and less copper in the mean time.  

 

We ate cherries off of the trees, there was poly culture, and the bees were buzzing and the smell of grape vines in flower filled the air with a prettier version of Dove soap, but did the man have the touch? 

Franz Strohmeier has the touch. Like many of the people in the group, he holds his wines back until they are stable and ready. The sauvignon blanc, 2008, spent 6 months on the skins and stems, and had some orange color, tannic, earthy, tangy. The 2007 weissburgunder, probably among the best I ever had. Yum, I wrote. Juicy. Some of his wines get sulfur at bottling, but he says he always reserves some for himself without the addition, he just finds they taste better.

I found all of his wines fascinating and mostly delicious. I'd never had a blauer wildbacher,

By reputation this makes a wine for early drinking; glug, glug.  Thumbing his nose at convention, he served a 2007  rosé, with the weight and depth of a ploussard, in his red-red, the wines turn into trousseau  dusted with nutmeg.  

Yes, he bit the amphora bug. The urns are waiting for the 2011 vintage.

 

Little else makes me more thrilled than crazy people making great wine.  

 

(word has it that Williams Corner Wine and Monika Caha might have the wines)

Veyder-Malberg: Making Sense of Austria (Austrian Series #1))

I'm snatching seconds on the road to write, so as I make all sorts of mistake, I also invite comment, correction and illumination, especially from all of you Austrian wine geeks. 

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The riesling was just this minute in flower
 when I met with Peter Malberg, who made his first solo domain effort in 2008.  He is a  lean man  with Intrepid airplane blue/gray colored eyes that almost matched his hair,  and originally from Saltzberg, he farms the far western area of Wachau, high up where no one sane makes good wine, in coop country, crappy farming country, dusted with mica-schist and faerie dust. 
 

  Funny thing, lots of folk out there say with respect how he cares for his 4 hectares (spread over 20 different parcels) with utter care and then?  Overheard and translated from the German he makes great wine, but  he'll soon find out he can't make a living that way. I suppose if he wanted to get rich, this previous advertising guy, would have avoided farming. Especially the kind of vineyards he's after, old terraced ones. I love old terraces, you can taste them in the wine, he said. 

All work here is done by hand. He's given up biodynamics, mostly because of a Steiner distrust, he does use several of the preps and farms, for lack of a better term, organically. He makes wine, he says, for precision, which is a term I have no idea what to do with. Perhaps something gets lost in the translation because the wines are very, very fine indeed.

We prepared for battle, he opened bottles (with a twist) and poured water into green short glasses. "We have no wine culture in this country. My parents used to drink out of glasses like these!" he said, with certain disdain. Then he glugged, glugged and gave a hissy smile, in imitation of the way his folks used to drink wine. "There was either the very high end or the low end. There was no wine culture."

I said it is this way throughout the world, no? Even in France.

When we tasted, I kept on chiding him about that comment. No, I can't taste the terraces, but I certainly can taste the effort in the farming. In the processing it's minimal, as a general rule, no additions except some sulfur, which generally happens at racking. Much lower than usual for Austrian standards. He also is not afraid of skin contact or stem contact, and presses slowly, finding that pressing with stems makes for a more gentle pressing. I believe this pressing makes a huge difference in his wine, and at least in one cuvée is quite tannic, which I loved. And I am happy when I hear a winemaker say they aren't afraid of tannin.

 He doesn't want oxidation in his wine so he's got this theory: keep the must (pre-fermentation) exposed to air so it oxidizes, so there's nothing to oxidize at a later date. (note to self: must talk to Tom Lubbe of Matassa about this.)

Most of the wines had been open for ten days or so, few seemed worse for the wear.  

2010: Kreutles Gruner: this is the only wine he makes on the flat. Lots of life and chamomile.

'10 Hochrain (Loess soil) 1/2 of this went through malo, yellow plum, juicy, nutmeg.

'10 Weitenberg Gruner: his oldest vines and an old vine of gruner, planted on gneiss. Small leafs, closer to riesling. Lots of apple strudel, and a bit of high carbon steel. Vin de gard. Excellent structure.

'10 Bruck: tart, very new, more yellow plum and a bit disjointed with underlying funk and mint.

'10; Buechenberg: this is near the more famous RiedKlaus vineyard and costs a hefty 58 euro, but why not? Woah! Tannin and tangy, fresh! Apple, acid, balance, long, long notes.

 Off again. Soonish. 

 Peter in his vineyards with plenty of clover.

Vote for me and the Moth

Would you be a sweetheart, and listen to my  Moth Radio pitch and if you like, vote? It's based on the Bacon on Yom Kippur essay. http://themoth.org/tell-a-story/listen-and-vote. 

Just put your cursor over the amount of stars you think I deserve and click.  

 

Serial Killers, Montauk and Me

Last night I was at  10 Bells indulging in Aligoté love with Dave McDuff. Up for deliciousness was 2009 Alice & Olivier DeMoor Réversibilité.  ($50).  I told him half way through the bottle something that has been bothering me;  I think I'm a magnet for serial killers. One story had been on my mind:  as I don't want to go to the authorities, I would spill it here. 

Last December, a good friend took me away to a spa destination in Montauk.  I'm not a girly girl and I was bound and tied and stuffed on the LIRR,  forced to enjoy myself and relax. On top of it, I didn't bring enough wine for the 48 hours. The situation was fraught. As it turned out, delightful.

We decided to hole up on the beach the entire weekend, only venturing out to walk the shores. Saturday night we stayed at the bar, listening to music and pretending we were locals. Somewhere around the last set a very young man, short and intense, with some Asian blood, perhaps Thai mixed with Mexican (but he claimed to be Filipino and then American, he spoke with an accent)  aggressively pursued me.

He was perhaps in his thirties, flat affect, humorless. He tried to entice me with going out to sea with him,  (no enticement) then he tried to convince me to take him to my room (fat chance) and finally there was that tongue in my mouth, right at the bar (the man was quick). I pushed him away and he became even more insistent.

He was terrifyingly strong.

He claimed to be a  fisherman, but his take on fishing mechanics weren't really up to par. I knew more about boats then he did, and my only experience is a wooden canoe.

His hands where rough and for his size, as strong as a vise. 

 I was trying to get my friend Nancy's attention but she just didn't grasp the situation. This was the first time in quite a while that I felt this scared. I knew my resistance would provoke his anger. 

Just as I was  wondering, "Where the hell is the bartender?" he showed up with security who, tapping his stick quite elegantly said, "We thought you ladies would like an escort back to the room."

A great  save. "How delightful," I said. Very grateful.

In the room to the sound of the waves I said, see what I mean? It's the red hair, it's a beacon to the crazy and violent.

Later that week I read about the serial killer dumping bodies in beach brush. I cannot help it, but I do wonder. 

 

Brushstroke, Bouley's new babe

 I loved the look of the long gone restaurant Danube in Tribeca, it always made me want to show cleavage and risk high heels. But even though the interiors of Brushstroke , David Bouley's new kid is more Ikea than Klimpt, because of  Chef Yamada's precise food attack I'm hooked.   

While the New York Magazine review confused me, and I was left thinking that what Adam really craved was sushi instead of  kaiseki fashioned cuisine, there was one little morsel that was one of the most exciting tastes I've had in ages: fresh hearts of palm in a basil miso sauce. When even one bite in a restaurant causes a swoon, that is a restaurant worth risking all. This was a clean tasting hearts of palm pesto with such picquantry I had to resist the urge  to stuff  my mouth, ala potato chips. Of course the texture was different, almost like al dente artichoke heart but the impulse was to stuff my mouth, artlessly,  just can't stop eatin fastly and furiously. Of course, highly unacceptable, I  slowed down and toyed,  coaxed and savored, then cleaned the bowl with my finger.

That was one lovely treat for the taste buds. Other memorables was the new tasting use of green tea (think texture) in the cocktails, thanks to mixologist Gen Yamatoto. 

 
I also admit I'm a sucker for the use of lilac to decorate the plate.

 Young sommelier baby-faced Seju Yang, (pinched from 15east)put together a well thought through list peppered with the bulk in the $100-$300 range but was kind to the under $120 as well, and was thinking that it might be cool to return and try the J. Roty Marsannay (2002) for $75. I was tempted by the wine but I gave my self over to the sake. 

I admit, I sometimes get annoyed by the increasing volume and richness of the stuff, as if it is headed after the tropical chardonnay drinker. I know little about sake  making technology but I'm eager to taste natural yeasted stuff, or at least sake that takes the foot off of the aromatic yeast pedal. And that is exactly why I loved when he indulged me with a side by side tasting of Chikurin Junmai Ginjo sake; same producer, one organic, (Ecocert) and the other conventional.

Both Seju and I agreed that the organic sake was far more complex and interesting while the other was common.

 

 

 

Brushstroke, 30 Hudson Street (Duane Street). Dinner every night except Sundays, with menus starting at $85. (212) 791-3771.