The Feiring Line

Today 3:30 on Martha Radio

Hey tricksters, I'll be hanging with Martha Radio Living Today radio host Thomas Farley (twitter handle, @mistermanners) o talk about the fabulous pairings between Halloween Candy and wine. I'm hoping to poke some holes in the stereotypes and provide some tricks and treats. 

Hours later....

Some of the wines mentioned.

Primitivo Quiles Fondillon  and smokey whiskys for  chocolate. 

Lopez de Heredia Gravonia 2002 for licorice (Panda please). 

Bugey Cerdon and Moscato for fruit flavored snaps.

Sercial Madeira for salt caramels.

A nice Manhattan cocktail for candy corn (if you must).

Non-Dosage Champagne to clean your palate after you're finished with your sugar fix.

Happy Halloween!      

The Mythology in Georgia

(I realize there's more to say about Georgia, so here is the first of the next two postings)

The title, the First International Qvevri Conference, with its main characters, a prophet and an ex-cave dwelling Bishop,  could have been a Borat movie. But this conference I attended in Georgia in September was no joke, but  a fascinating examination of an ancient wine culture that make beautiful wines for a drinker in any century. 

I was lucky to hang out with the Prophet, who had an apocryphal tale to tell. 

Before Jonathan Wurdeman was a prophet, he was an art student in Moscow who came to Georgia to visit, bike  and to paint.  

He fell in love with the landscape, the polyphonic music and just moved. Then he fell in love with a singer enmeshed with folk traditions. Deeply, profoundly. She wouldn't marry him until she had Bishop Davit's blessing.  

   

The bishop on the site of what he hopes will be a winemaking school

One day, when the cherry blossoms had burst she took him to see her Bishop. He went up to the mountain and came back 40 days later. "Well?" she asked.

It was all good. If our Prophet would go to see the Bishop once a month to talk about art, yes, the two could marry and start a family. Turns out they would also talk about wine.

It seemed as if a greater force had called him to this tiny spot in Georgia to find his home, family and destiny. One day, while the fruit was heavy on the vine, quietly painting he was approached by a farmer carried on an eagle's wingspan.  Would he help him save a vineyard and the old winemaking traditions? They gave birth to Pheasant's Tears.  And this is one reason, that John Wurdeman,  with his fluent Georgian, which is mesmerizing, almost hypnotic delivery was a fine translator for language and tradition.

So, there I was, soaking  the Georgian fall, stuffed with khachapuri while waiting for the flock of sheep to cross the road. I was  pondering the various, very pretty and very stable wines made without sulfur. I  asked John how it came to pass that the tradition of making sulfur-free wines survived through Soviet industrial rule, he told me, "Sulfur is still associated with the devil."                            

                                                                                  That's John, with his hands on his US agent, Chris

 

The mythology aside,  John and the Bishop's synergy was greater than the sum of their parts and were able to   convinc USAID to fork over money to fund the conference, having convinced the powers that wine has a greater tourism draw than let's say steel. So that's how I came to the conference, to give my own little spiel and to taste beautiful wines, eat colorful food and meet people not afraid to look you deeply in the eyes. 

 

The Alaverdi Monastery, where the conference took place

 

First wine article for The Hollywood Reporter

 The Lasseters Uncorked 11.4.2011

 

 

Wine and Austin Whole Foods

If you're looking for the previous post in this space, I removed it. While there's another post  in the future (on the more general topic of where Whole Foods stands in relation to wine) my original structure and words terribly muddied my message, so much so that people I thought I had praised, viewed themselves as bashed. Not pretty. Nothing could have been further from my truth. I don't mind when my blog gets me in trouble because of something I believe in, but it's another matter entirely when I get into hot water unintentionally. And and so with the benefit of a few days and enriched clarity, here is the post as it should have been written.

I was thrilled that the Texas Wine & Food foundation brought me down and that  Devon Broglie and his staff at the wine department of Whole Foods said, "We'll take her!" 

Having a backer like Whole Foods has always been a dream for me. There were a fair number of visitors. Conversations were intense. The public was open and curious.  In the middle of the tasting, Devon and I shared a few sips (Pinon Vouvray, Silex 2009, Coquelet 2010) where he  he fessed up, "I'm on the twenty- year plan here."

He  knows that change happens at a slower pace than certain impatient red heads would like. But still without the twenty-year plan, what they have right now in Austin is already commendable.  People cramming their wine bar at 1pm on a Sunday afternoon. All over the wine department, shoppers were drinking and sampling wines at different stations. Those who came over to the Naked Wine stand almost always left with a bottle of wine (Wine of the day, hands down; $23 for the Montesecondo Chianti Classico 2007.). However, my moles nationwide, from other Whole Foods have told me that they fear Whole Foods when it comes to wine is headed to more industrial instead of natural, and if this is true, I beseech the company to utilize their talent within their ranks, such as Melanie Mann in New York and Devon in Austin. Whole Foods should become a leader here, and maybe with the proper coaxing, we'll see it to fruition.

And there you have it. The Texans have a lot to teach this little old Northerner, and I hope they'll find I'm a willing and eager student.  So, to Devon from Whole Foods and Marshall Jones at the Foundation here's a big hug your way, with deep gratitude.--Alice

 

Message in a Qvevri

The winemaker's new lust object. Qvevri

 

Here are the road obstacles 

and the most common crusher.....

and the unplanted qvevri...

Georgia, the former Soviet republic of, is a land where autos share the road with pigs, sheep, and donkeys. The food pops with flavor, and wine is so knit into daily life that an extension devoted to its creation is as common in most homes as a kitchen. In these rooms, large amphorae called qvevri are planted into the soil and filled with fermenting grape juice. Often referred to as the originalwinemakers, Georgians have used the jugs in their vinification for eons, perhaps even as far back as 6000 B.C.

Yet it took an Italian to make qvevri chic.

The modern legend dates to the end of the last century. Friulian winemaker Josko Gravner had decided to pare back his own winemaking to the basics. His search for simplicity led him to Georgia. Qvevri—the Bentleys of the amphora family—seemed ideally suited to low-intervention winemaking. Burying them in the ground provided instant temperature control, perfect for natural fermentation. The point at the bottom of the vessel collected the grape crud, so no fining or filtering was necessary. And the ceramic material imparted little or no flavor to the juice.

Gravner first made his all-qvevri wine in 2000 and loved the results. The media treated his story as an oddity. Then he sold his wine for $120 a bottle. Other vintners in Italy, Slovenia, and Austria soon followed his example and snapped up the large ceramic containers. They also rubbed the Georgians the wrong way by referring to the jug as an amphora. Georgia would like the world to know, please, that qvevri refers to a specific citron-shaped clay vessel, lined protectively with molten beeswax and meant to be planted in the soil. 

One of the new Italian converts to qvevri is Elisabetta Foradori. Pouring her rare white, floral wine made from the Nosiola grape, she explains why she loves the qvevri. “My wines find their identity in them so much sooner.” All her production is now in qvevri, even though—don’t tell the Georgians—she too calls them amphorae.

Others have added their own twist to the traditional style. Austrian Bernhard Ott makes a Grüner Veltliner labeled, simply, Qvevri. He picks his chemical-free grapes by hand. He crushes them without machinery. He pours the wine, complete with skins, seeds, and stems, into the qvevri, mimicking the way the Georgians vinify their reds. But instead of marinating his wine for a few weeks, he allows the juice to commingle with its parts for months, resulting in a slight orange color and some gritty tannin. After the wine is finished fermenting, he seals theqvevri hermetically with clay and dirt. He then forgets about the wine. Eight months later, he pries the lid open to find the crud sunk to the bottom. This is extreme hands-off winemaking. “The most pure, clear wine is left when the qvevriis opened up,” he says. David Schildnecht, who covers Austria for The Wine Advocate, calls Ott’s Qvevri “revelational.”

A qvevri curiosity has now touched down in the New World—not in Napa, where you might expect, but in Virginia. And not for wine, but for cider. Here, too, all roads lead back to Gravner. When John Rhett, general manager of Castle Hill Cider, and cider maker Stuart Madany (both former architects) tasted Gravner’s wine, they not only loved the flavor but were also attracted to the qvevri’s egg shape. “Whenever nature wants to preserve life energy, it uses the same form, and that is the egg,” Madney says. The two men persuaded Castle Hill’s owners to shell out a hefty sum to import the vessels. This year they planted eight qvevrion Castle Hill’s grounds. Perhaps the world’s first qvevri cider, called Levity, is now available. Whether it’s the egg shape or beginner’s luck, their brew has more complexity, with a deeper flavor and more nuance, than conventional cider offerings.

If the results of qvevri weren’t so impressive, one might write them off as a fad. But there is growing international interest, helped along by diehard qvevri devotees. Jonathan Wurdeman of Pheasant’s Tears winery is an American expat who lives in the Kakheti region of Georgia. He organized the world’s first international qvevri conference in September, with the help of the Alaverdi Monastery (making wine since 1011) and its qvevri-loving Bishop Davit. Two hundred people, from scientists and winemakers to archeologists, attended the conference. Wurdeman estimated that most qvevri wine is made for private consumption in Georgia. Only about nine wineries export bottles. There are a mere five artisans who manufacture the vessels, and all of them are older than 60. Wurdeman is hoping that the new international demand for qvevri will entice younger Georgians to keep the craft alive. Yet cost remains an impediment to qvevri becoming the hot new winemaking toy. The reach-in-and-clean size of qvevri sets a winemaker back about $8,000 (10 times the price of a barrique barrel), and the jump-in-and-clean size runs about $14,000. Even though the jugs don’t need to be replaced in a winemaker’s lifetime, the outlay is steep.

Still, some vintners are willing to make the investment. Pax Mahle of the Sonoma winery Wind Gap believes his desire for a qvevri will eventually overcome the price tag. “Wines fermented in terra cotta taste more complex and more ethereal” Others are making due with substitutes until they can afford a real one. Australian Tom Shobbrook, who works in the Barossa Valley, had friends build a kiln and fire some 650-liter clay “eggs” to mimic the urns, in which he ferments sémillon.

The do-it-yourself attitude is catching on. Californian Kenny Likitprakong of Hobo Wine Co. tagged a local potter to throw a 230-liter vessel. He lined it with local beeswax and buried it close to his vineyard. Ryan Glaab of Ryme Cellars also had a friend “make the biggest one he could.” He’s made two vintages in a 27-liter object, really more of a vase than a qvevri. In explaining why he wanted to use the qvevri style, he says, “I’m intrigued by fermenting in the ground and the notion of bringing the grapes back in direct contact with earth as a vessel for elevage, even if that earth came from another continent.”

If Texas-based potter Billy Ray Mangham has his way, there will be an American version of qvevri, made from U.S. clay, in time for the 2012 vintage. Mangham was one of the attendees at the monastery conference. After a request from a local winemaker, he traveled to Georgia to learn the secrets of the qvevricraftsmen. He came back energized by the connection between wine and pottery. Now back in the Longhorn State, he’s decided to make wine himself, with a 115-liter prototype vessel (the reach-in-and-clean type). Having fallen in love with Georgian culture and ceramics, there’s no doubt what he’ll call his creations. “Qvevri,” he says. “What else?”

 

 

New York Times: Wine

In the Food & Drink issue of the New York Times. 

What experts drink  and the next hot wine region. 

Death of French Wine (as we have known it)

In the the 2005 edition of the Dive Bouteille a group of rambunctious, shouting, applauding and cheering vignerons sat and stood in a damp cave for a meeting. They took a break from tasting to hammer out the dangers they were seeing in the AOC system.

I can't remember who it was who stood up, perhaps it was Olivier Cousin from Anjou, but many voiced the same idea.  Too many people who worked well and naturally, who made wines that weren't flawed but that weren't textbook, were not being granted the right to put AOC whatever on their label. The system that used to protect real wines had reversed itself. It was a system that had started to eat its own.

With increasing frequency, wines that were naturally made, with no additions, coming from quality terroir, worked tenderly are denied appellation. In fact, looking over my wine shelves, these are mostly what I drink. 

Real wines were in danger.  Fake wines were awarded status.  As the years rolled on the situation got worse. Symbolic was when the  Loire Valley  hired consultant Sam Harrop (click that link, get the irony?) to help them turn their sauvignon blanc into something closer to New Zealand. You get the picture.

In the last six years this has gotten worse as new reforms in the law (and the ridiculousness of the EU wine laws) have condemned certain grape varieties in certain towns, such as menu pineau (hello Theirry Puzelat) . The result was defection and a proliferation of wines that boasted Vin de Table on their label rather than Chablis. 

There's a lovely interview Jules Dressner conducted  with Noella Morantin up on the LDM site.  Here's a snip that is to the point.

JD-You only bottle as Vin de France as opposed to the Touraine AOC. Can you tell us how you came to this choice?

NM- From the get-go I wanted to make Vin de France, but a lot of people advised me against it. They told me that it was important to defend and take pride in your appellation, and I reluctantly started making AOC wines. Unfortunately, I quickly realized that the majority of the AOC wine being produced in my region came from conventional chemical farming and oenological manipulation in the cellar. 

These people have appellation sauvignon because they've used an industrial yeast that makes the wine smell like cat piss. If it doesn't smell like cat piss, you don't get the appellation. That was my first big problem with the AOC system.

The final straw was last year when there was an issue with my Boudinerie 2009. It had 0.24 volatile acidity, and even though 0.9 is the level necessary for the wine to be deemed flawed, the board denied me the AOC for this cuvée because of V.A. I reanalyzed the wine myself and provided them with the results proving I was well within the limits allowed, and they told me that it didn't matter, that when they had tasted it they had deemed the V.A too high and I'd have to present it again in order to reevaluate it. So out of principle, because at this point I'd sold all my wine and there wasn't any left, I re-presented the wine and, low and behold, this time the wine was ok and they accorded me the AOC.

At that point I told myself I didn't need these people to tell me what to do. I'm perfectly capable of making the wines I want to make with

                                                                                        *

Others wanted to fight.  Jean-Pierre Amoreau of Chateau Le Puy in Bordeaux took the AOC to court, and won.

Another situation is Olivier Cousin,  being sued by InterLoire (local appellation leg) because he rebelliously put his region and  his grapes on his label,  even as a joke (Anjou pur Breton is the name of the caberent franc involved, Anjou his region, Breton is the old name of Cabernet Franc)...as if playing cat and mouse with the government. This was his patrimony. His right. But the establishment is not seeing it his way.

So, with a heavy heart, after years of thinking that the French system had more good than bad, I've come to accept that the French INAO continues on this path, it is finished. Back in 1935, it's original purpose  was to help consumers distinguish between true terroir wines and ordinary ones.  There were to be clearly defined rules on soil, grape varieties and methods. In recent years the Vin de Table category was viewed to be more true than appellation wines. 

But it isn't just amongst the scruffy rebels, the dissent is reaching even high flying names. Last week I was in Burgundy and stunned that almost every domaine I visited brought up the difficulty for real wines to achieve appellation status unless there is money and influence behind the petition. What to do about it? I discovered that even at the high flying Domaines Roulot, Bonneau de Martray and Ponsot, there was talk about revolt.

 I was in the middle of  Clos des Monts Luisants, the 1er cru in Morey St. Denis when Laurent Ponsot insisted,  "No, no, no! It is the place, not the grape!"

I agree.

 I never think  of pinot or cab or malbec. I never think grenache, nor syrah. I think in terms of Gigondas. I think in terms of Beaujolais or Loire Valley gamay. I think in terms of cot (which means Loire to me) and I think of Burgundy (insert appellation.)I think Cornas and St. Joseph. Place matters. Just try drinking Hervé Souhauts gamay called Souteronne (does not get appellation). The wine tastes like the Northern Rhone. It just does. 

Originally the AOC had told Ponsot he would have to pull out his aligoté by 2013, because such a lowly grape shouldn't be grown on 1er Cru territory. (more on aligoté in later posts)

Ponsot, who has money and history on his side,  won the reprieve and he will continue to label his wines as a 1er Cru Bourgogne instead of Bourgogne Aligoté. He went on to say, if  he has aligoté on Corton, he wants to use the Corton appellation. After all, it is the soil, not the grape. And aligoté has history older than chardonnay in the area. I had the feeling if he was forced to put Bourgogne Aligoté on a label, a grape often grown on the wrong side of the tracks (the other side of 74) he might have gone postal.

I had a great meeting with
 Jean-Charles le Bault de la Morinière at Bonneau du Martray, maker of extolled Corton and Corton-Chuck.  He asserted that if the madness of denying the right to put the name, such as C-C, on a label on good wine continues, he will defect.  To hell with the system.

Of course if you're a Ponsot or a B du M your name mostly is so famous you don't need to use the appellation. Others less famous will have a harder time. Sure you might get sales off of the grape name, such as chardonnay, but you very possibly will lose the business looking for a Corton or a Meursault.   

In Olivier Cousin's plea to use his place on his label it is a manner of honor, not a matter of law. He wants to put his name and his vintage and his place on his label, it is patrimony.

Soil and grape profiling-- the reverence of place and the exquisite matching of the grape to the soil-- has been France's gift to the wine drinking world. That was the essence of the Appellation system. So, why are they insistent on narrowing their interpretations on a narrow flavor profile? They are destroying themselves.

It might be time for another kind of French revolution. 

 

 

The back story to "What Do Wine Experts Recommend."

When The New York Times Magazine  asked if I'd help out with their food issue, they proposed I write up my idea for the next hot wine region. In addition, would  I curate a list of wines under $10?

I knew that the Canaries was a shoe-in for the 'next' region. That was a cinch. But, the wine list? At $10 more than half the list would be packed with supermarket brands, not good for the Times or for me.

So I  bargained. 'Give me another  two dollars and it's a deal." 

Deal.

As curator,   I was charged with surveying wine people the world over for suggestions. Then the last bit was making them dovetaile with generic food and wine pairings. Each food group needed a white and red option. 

Then came the red pen.

Due to art department requirements (the realities a writer has to deal with, often pieces are as visually driven as they are content driven) my list had to be cut back to a mere 20. In other words, this had to be a clipable piece and 20 is easier than 25. 

Cuts are painful, especially as getting into the Times is a pretty reward for all of the hassel.  I bugged people. I was a nudge. There was a lot of going back and forth. Plenty of consultation. No we have too many reds or whites. Yes, we need s sparkling. We need domestic wines!  That final request was the bear. Finally I had Christy come up with a Pinot that she loved, $10! I was ecstatic. Then I did the fact checking, the wine was over $20. Heart in hand, I voluntarilly removed the wine. Shame. But California failed us. On the other hand, two lovely wines were unearthed from the Finger Lakes and Oregon. But it wasn't easy.

The list had to be balanced and it had to deliver wines at all weights and  purposes.  

Trust me: It was difficult to get wines under $12. So, thanks to  you to all who spent time working with me. I so appreciate your help, and hope you understand. 

Here below are the missing links.

Christy Bergman Owner, The Secret Wine Shop (San Francisco, CA.)

Red: Foursight Wines, Pinot Noir Zero New Oak Charles Vineyard  2008. (California)

“I love it.” Cost: $11 (actually the wine was on closeout, and even then over $20, usually near $40)

 

Josep Roca Co-owner, wine director El Celler de Can Roca (Girona, Spain)

Las Rocas Garnacha 2008

“Explosive and mineral.”

Cost: $10.00

 

 Matt Reiser Wine Director, Upstairs on the Square (Cambridge, MA)

White: Stefano Massone Gavi Vigneto Masera 2010 (Italy)

“Poor man's burgundy.”

Cost : $11.99

 

Joe Manekin Iberian and Latin American Wine Buyer

K&L Wine Merchants (San Francisco, CA)

White: Luis Pato Maria Gomes Beiras, 2011 (Portugal)

“Juicy and pretty.”

 

Joe Alter Co-owner Bottle Shop (Chicago, IL)

Red: Chateau d'Oupia Minervois, 2009 (France )

“Centenarian carignan cheaper by volume than a venti latte.”

Cost: $10.00

 

Ian Becker Wine Director Arlequin Wine Merchant

Rosé Moulin de Gassac 'Guilhem' Rose Languedoc ( 2010, France)

"Offers all of the pleasure of Southern French Rose -- at a great price."

Cost:  $10 

 

Star Black, Wine Director, Clyde Common

White: Tintero Grangia Vino Bianco Secco, 2010 (Piemonte)

"Soapstone and white blossom. Excellent on a hot summer day lying on a picnic blanket."

Cost:$11 

2011 Burgundy, what's in a vintage?

Driving through Burgundy from Auxerre to Morey St. Denis the vines look tired, as if wiped out from a fever. I fe;t like patting them on their heads and saying, "Poor babies." They had a hard time since their stap started to flow. Hot, dry, cold wet, humid, hail, hot, wet, cold, hot. They didn't know which end to move first. And critics have expected the worst.

I'm here (apologies to JS)  harrassing winemakers,  trying to get to the bottom of their problem child, Aligoté, I've had a chance to taste several of the new vintages. Like last night I hung with Philippe Pacalet going through about a bakers dozen. The vintage is well and a live, good concentration and life.  Driving south on the what used to be RN74, I realized the only responsible speculation a journalist can have is about the amount of work required in the vintage. Was it handed to them like a baby in velvet knickers on  a velvet pillow or did they have to work like donkeys in Fes up to the last minute.

In 2011 it was the donkey year.

They fretted, worried and worked their ass off. They couldn't second guess, they had to live day to day and then pick really well. As in any challenging vintage the result is in the ingenuity, skill and compassion of the vigneron. 

There will be plenty of good wines in 2011, in Burgundy.  Check back in a year and a 1/2 to see if I'm right. 

 

(non-Aligoté wine of the night, Domaine Alain Jenniard Chambolle Musigny 2009 12 euro a glass, drunk at La Gourmandin on Place Carnot. Happy to have drunk it, sweet place, but...)

Iago's Wine

Iago's wine needed more info.

He makes one wine only, the white of orange version of the Chinuri. His viticulture is organic, "From the beginning, that's what I wanted," he said. He crushes like most do, in a log that is hollowed out and that usually flows directly into the qvevri.

(this is not Iago's crusher, but the larger one of Pheasant's Tears)

 

However common around these parts is for a winemaker to offer two cuvées,  with stems and skins versions and a stem and skin free version, much the way conventional winemakers might have their oaked and non -oaked version and his total production is 2,000 bottles. He only recently became aware that maybe his little wine was able to play on the international market, because it was that good.       

That 2009, had 6 months of skin contact, it had great acidity, with vibrant lemon, honey-leesy nose, bosc pear and funky apple. A little exotic church spice and a long electric finish and a little bit of a rough landing. In other words, I could keep on talking about this wine for a long time.