The Feiring Line

The Spanish battle for natural (with an Italian tangent)

Because of bitchiness between Italian natural wine factions-- ViniVeri and VinNatur-- many unhappy winemakers defected to the corporate side. This meant that they actually crossed the threshold and showed their wines at ViVit.  This was the Vin Italy's (the huge Italian trade show's) attempt at relevance. They aimed to give some space to wines that are  natural and organic.

Wine politics.

It happens. 

The verdict from those who went? Thumbs up.  

Drama followed. Sunday, when the  likes of Arianna Occhipinti and Alesandra Bera were pouring for tasters, suits walked in and tried to catch a thief. These guys were the same fraud squad that snagged the Bulzoni wine shop in Rome back in June. The authorities demanded proof of farming and practice just to be sure there was no fraud perpetrated on the public. 

Meanwhile, over in Spain, no squad has trained natural wine in their crosshairs--yet. But the unnaturals are taking advantage of the natural-free- for- all. It could well be the basis of a Luis Buñuel film. 

 Case in point?  Two wine events. Coming right up in Spain, one real, one pretend. Both embody the fight for the sole of wine that just won't quit. Let's start with the fake. Part Two: Talk about burying the lede! When in  Italy, Vincent Poussin linked me up with this abortion of justice.  May 13th is the day for Vinum Nature - Barcelona.

VN-bcn is a must for everybody who wants to enjoy organic, natural and biodynamic wines from out nearest wine appellations. A gathering space where wineries and its people bring us closer together with a glass filled with sceneries, land and the soul of its wines.

I'm the first person to say that I don't mind the word natural, there's no other word that really works as well and no word is iron clad. But to see the names like Condonui and Paris Balta included and only  one biodynamic producer (and a very conventional one at that)?

Forget about natural wine. This is natural travesty.

All is not lost.

A few years back I was held hostage in Ribiera Sacre by the "golden nose. "  I was not happy having spent the day with a spoof wine instead of my original plan. But the bonus was, at the end of the day, I found out that my fellow hostage was one of the brothers of Can Roca in Girona and we shared similar palates. Some bond was forged. And yesterday I received this email from Josep Roca of Can Roca in Girona. 

The world of wine in Spain evolves, and day by day is closer to the grape and further from the systemic products. I wanted to tell you about this slow by persistent progress in the sensitivity of many producers of our country. Little by little, that conversation you and I had driving on the way back to Santiago, is meaning to me the germ of a new hopeful reality to spanish wines: more pure, fresher, more daring, without any make-up, more sincere and authentic."

 

So, two tastings, side by side in Spain, one real one fake. Which side will win?  I have my hunches. Do you?

Robert Parker (and your brain on natural wine)

 

So, now that the Wine Advocate (that would be Robert Parker's famed publication) has replaced their main critic (Antonio Galloni) and put the critique of  Loire wines on a 2-3 year rotation (a move I highly applaud because really, what do blue chip drinkers really need Loire reviews for?) Mr. P. decided to educated his readers with a video a little reminiscent of the 1987 fried egg campaign, "Your brain on drugs." 

As the video is copyrighted and Mr. P. is in a litigious mood (he is sueing that former critic) I decided I decided not to risk  court, so here's the gist.   

+ Mr. P. warns about the dangers of no sulfur in a wine. He holds up dregs in a glass, presumably  two days. "Looks like somethng from a bio-warfare lab."

+ The bottom of the glass is coated in mold, not unusual if you have bad houscleaning practices and fail to clean your glass, whether the wine is sulfured or not.

+ "Do you want this stuff growing in your innards? Natural wine is one of the dumbest things ever created," he says,  then he signs off citing his  acupuncture appointment.

 

 

  

 

Downfall video redux

You have to watch it. Even better than the first time around, which you must also see. The powers at  Red to Brown Wine Review  have the touch. Even before I heard my name mentioned with Jamie Goodes, I was rolling on the floor. 

 

 

 

What do cheese and wine have in common?

I wrote this piece for Wine and Spirits magazine and investigated the funky bits . 

When invited to a Comté tasting at the Wine & Spirits office on a winter Wednesday morning, I expected some terrific cheese. I expected to examine spring versus summer milk, to hear about the cows grazing and how it was a terroir-driven cheese. I didn’t expect to geek out on the effect that microflora has on cow teats and how that might affect the relationship of terroir and cheese.

 

Slow Food Editore publishes Naked Wine

Yes! 

Passover Drinking

Attending last year's Kosher Fest, I didn't expect to see the usual tattoos and hipsters. But I was surprised to see the room packed with patrons sporting pais, yalmukes and sheitles, seeking the latest hot bottle. I joined in. Tulip? (Pass--way too fat and sloppy for me).

A new cava? (Too industrial. Pass).

Minutes later I was tasting the wines of Netofa (below).

A friend who sells for Royal Wine Company said to me, "I love them. Why can't I get anyone else to?"

He then proceded to tell me that any wine that wasn't back sweetened, rich and oaky was a hard sell.

So, that brings us to...if you read The Feiring Line, and want to avoid the dreck , what are the solutions to the kosher cunundrum? Whether for  Shabbos or Passover, that is terroir and not market-driven? I mean, it's a long night. To sit there drinking seltzer would be sad.

Rule one: Don't spend big. My Los Angeles-based cousin recently sent me a picture of a Herzog $150 cabernet. Worth it, he asked?

There's no real reason to spend over $30 with rare exception. Exception! Santa Cruz's Four Gates. Benyamin Kantz, is a one guy show, works the vines, makes the wines. I profiled him in Naked Wine. He's the real deal and can use your support for his truly artisan wines from certified organic vines. He adds neutral yeast and low-ish sulfurs, but that's all. Wines range between $38-$46, from the winery direct. Check him out.

Rule two: Consider the need for mevushal. This means a wine has been flash pasteurized. Why? Because this Draconian process allows  those  who are not Sabbath observing to handle the bottles, open them, pour them.  This is why you'll find these kind in kosher restaurants and at bar mitzvahs. It is a horrible thing to do to a wine and is only indicated if showing up to a very frum household.

For the most part, I will go out of my way to avoid, even though, with some begrudging, there are three below that are thus acursed. The best thing you can do is call your hosts and ask if mevushal is required or whether any Kosher for Passover wine will do. One day the Rabbi's will get rid of this custom and it's long overdue.

Drappier Champagne? It's a wine I enjoy in its non-kosher version. Well worth the under $50 price point or so for a real Champagne with a hechsher. This is mevushal. 

 

2010 Chateau La Clare ($30)

The crowded Bordeaux category has potential, just because there's a lot to choose from. But be careful, you can spend $70 and over and get a dried out, poorly cared for wine. I'm tempted by the 2002 Leoville Poyferre but the chances it was poorly stored are too great. So, one option I have under $30. Ch. La Clare was a little dilute but had plenty of earthy bordeaux character (even though mevushal) Made and produced by Jean Guyon who recently bought Chateau Greysac.

 Domaine Netofa ($20)

from the southern Galilee is my kosher default. Winemaker, Pierre Miodownick has made a hell of a lot of wine for the big gorilla of the kosher wine world, Royal. But this is his very own and couldn't be more different than the other recipe driven wines that litter the market. A mourvedre/syrah blend. The gamey syrah shines through. Also getting my best bet for whites is his offering of chenin blanc. It's got a nice wet wool thing on the nose with a soft, salty apple skin finish.

 Domaine Ruhlmann ($18)

 I don't have a clue about this Alsatian producer. The vines are grown on granite soils and the grapes are hand-harvested. What I am not crazy about a very grapey quality, which could be the ripe '09 vintage, but never the less, but yet the wine remains highly quaffable. I would buy it if only to encourage more kosher wines from Alsace and revisit in 2010. On Wine-Searcher.com I can only locate the gewurtz at about $18, also commendable.

 Peraj Petita ($20-$50)

 
needs to be on your radar. They are my other default. Out of Monstant in Spain, so close to Priorat, the value is there for $20. The 2011 is current release but I see there are some 2008 wines. Go for it! This and its fancier sibling ($50) Flor de Primavera Perah Ha'abib do much better with age. The former, is my preference with its a mix of grenache, carignane and termpranillo.The fancy bottle has a hefty dose of cabernet and new oak. Why? I don't have a clue. But if you want a status bottle, this is the one you're after.

                                 Finally we come to life from down -under, Hunter Valley.

 

Harkham Winery  (Under $20)

This is historically significant  as Richard Harkham is the first total natural wine enthusiast who is also shomer shabbos. When Richie says he makes wines without preservatives, he's not talking about condoms but about using no sulfur or other additives. The label above (there's also a shiraz) is mevushal, a concession to Royal, one of his American importers. As chardonnay goes it's pretty okay; gritty and refreshing. While the pasteurization has taken its toll, snuffing out some of the life, it remains untarnished by oak and manages to be pithy and have some interest, it might be a match for the hard to pair gefilte fish, and certainly would swim well with a browned up capon.

However, the Aziza wines (chardonnay and shiraz) are Richie's babies. Aziza was the name of his late Grandmom. The much adored matriarch emigrated to Israel in 1929. Nothing but the full-throttle natural stuff would justify invoking her name. For these he teamed up with another importer who agreed to treat the wines more gently and ship in cool containers. The wines have been celebrated by secular reviewers such as Jancis and Andrew Jefford and in Australia is distributed by the fab wine guy, Andrew Guard. I'll be watching Richie. He's the next step for kosher wine.

Anyway, best of luck to you and remember there is always Slivovitz. I do love the rot gut, have plenty of youthful fond memories and nothing else gives you that burn. Otherwise, you can always go really cheap with a Golan Sion Red--which is sort of the Hearty Burgundy of the Kosher wine world. It is a quaffable no-brainer, do no harm and for $11 bucks? It will do the trick. Chag semeach, and have fun making the horseradish.

Drinking with Philip Roth

 Either foreswear fucking others or the affair is over. This was the ultimatum, the maddeningly improbable, wholly unforeseen ultimatum, that the mistress of fifty-two delivered in tears to her lover of sixty-four on the anniversary of an attachment that had persisted with an amazing licentiousness—and that, no less amazingly, had stayed their secret—for thirteen years. But now with hormonal infusions ebbing, with the prostate enlarging, with probably no more than another few years of semi-dependable potency still his—with perhaps not that much more life remaining—here at the approach of the end of everything, he was being charged, on pain of losing her, to turn himself inside out. --- Sabbath's Theater 

••

 I rely on Roth's work of madness about aging, failure and loss of potency, Sabbath's Theater.  Along with Goodbye Columbus and Letting Go, they are the tomes I turn to when I forget how to write or feel.

But when Roth recently announced he was hanging up the keyboard,  something in me snuffed.  For some reason I kept on rereading that damned mission statement of mine, "I'm hunting the Leon Trotskys, the Philip Roths, the Chaucers and the Edith Whartons of the wine world." I started to question everything. Roth declared he was done. My feel for the heart and soul of the sentence was sapped. Even rereading him didn't help. This time it felt final.

Fuck you, Philip Roth.  I never knew I was that impressionable, but we seem to be linked on a much deeper level than I had ever imagined. 

Of course my trauma is not his fault. I was writing before I heard the snickered name of Portnoy. My love for Roth came much later. I had already decided to gamble with my life and throw all I had into writing, I was plotting my return to New York City.  But, on a disastrous trip to damp northern California with a Mickey Sabbath of my own,( a mistake) I gave Roth another chance, (I had been bored with Portnoy.) and  found The Counterlife. It was as if Zuckerman found  yet another doppelgänger--me-- but forgot to give me the same talent to temper the inevitability of doom.

I read all I could, elevating two of his  works above all his others. And finally when in 1995 that first Foreswear all others chapter appeared in The New Yorker  I waited for the book release with characteristic impatience. I was swallowed whole by the chapter and everything that followed.  It was primal. It cut to the blood of all of us who have loved insanely and who know what its like to feel close to madness. There are scattered scenes of flash; the embalming scene, rendered with flesh and thistle. The yearning and loss and the stupidity in death and desire, nibbled down to the bone.

I know with modern convention, with the current love for pre-boxed structure- if I brought Roth's opening graf into my writing group as my own, they would invariably say: There's too much going on. There's too much telling. Not enough showing. Too many clauses. Too many dates. Too much volatility. Too much brett. Too much stuff I have no idea how to describe.  "The character isn't likeable." Whoever says that is lying and denying the bits of failure we all carry within. The genius of Sabbath is that he is able to disappoint the reader, he, brilliant-genius-gone-wrong, goes forth and distinguishes himself in tragedy. He becomes the satyr, the aging, failed satyr he could not avoid being.

When I read the New York Magazine article on Roth I was troubled at the absence of women who  stood up for short, stubby, horny- without -purpose Sabbath and his creator. The guys? They love him. After all Sabbath is their worst fear, they lose the woman they love and are reduced to masturbating on her grave. They fear they ARE Sabbath. Woman on the other hand fear that one day, they'll wake up in the morning and find themselves lying next to snoring sack like Sabbath. Another essay for another time. 

 No matter what my writing group feels, the character doesn't have to be likeable he or she just has to be riveting, talented and burrows into your skin. What about Gabrio Vini wines, Serragghia  from Pantelleria, such as the extreme orange blossom-water-like Zibibbo Secco? Or a more kindly wine, such as Claire Naudin's Orchis? Or the wines of Georgia or of my beloved pond scum saving a wine that is so pure it's a chick with martinet posture and fat pearls who doesn't heave the breast. The most important element is to take the reader and drinker in, no matter what the person or point of view or the conventional talent.

 So, Roth is coming to dinner. I fear he would love Harlan. I have no Harlan and I'm not getting him some. Nor will I get him anything like it.  I  don't even know if he drinks anymore, in Letting Go there was a reference to 1951 (assuming Bordeaux). And some wine connoisseurship along the way.  But no. If Roth came over tonight, if he called me up and he said, pull the cork babe,  I want to see why you dare invoke my name, you imbecile, I told you to give up writing, didn't I? Didn't I tell you it was a crass, vulger way to make a living and no one in the end gives a shit? Anyway now when The Atlantic Monthly is asking writers to write for free...see? Well, if he did this right now, and I had to look around, I'd give him two of the most contentious Mickey Sabbath wines I could get my hands on. Vino Ambiz, cloudy Airén sitting on my bench? Why not? And then, because I'm a glutton for punishment, I'd open a trousseau of beauty, and feel my heart sink and beg him, do not do this to me.

 

 

Arizona? I'll be there this weekend

Happy to be part of this great festival, Tucson Festival of Books.

My seminar is on sunday in the 'culinary' tent and I will be very happy to see you! 

 

1. 
   3 hrsUniv. of Arizona ‏@UofA

   Would you love to know more about wine? Meet @alicefeiring during#UA's Google+ Hangout at @TFOB: http://bit.ly/HangoutWithAuthors ….

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My advice to Mr. Parker.

Catching up on the stack of magazines that's preventing me from reading fiction, I bolted right up and took notice. Ray Isle had a piece on how Robert Parker's predictions have come (or not) true.         

The first one caught my eye for a few reasons: 

Ray Isle In 1987, you worried that “the continuing obsession with technically perfect wines is stripping wines of their identifiable and distinctive character. It seems to be the tragedy of modern winemaking that it is increasingly difficult to tell an Italian Chardonnay from one made in France or California or Australia.” You added, “Winemakers and the owners of wineries, particularly in America, must learn to take more risks and to preserve the individual character of their wines, even at the risk that some consumers may find them bizarre or unusual.” Looking at things now, did winemaking move away from that trend toward anonymity, or did it continue?

 Damn, didn't that sound familiar? I could well have written it, and in fact, starting in 2001, quite a bit later I did in many ways and in some ways,  never stopped. But I fist became aware of it in the year 2000 when I read the Atlantic Monthly store on Parker as an essay Robert Parker wrote in 1999 entitled The Dark Side of Wine. 

It's not unusual for a writer to plagiarize themselves but not in such a public way.But the 1987 article predated the elaborate on-line publishing and not searchable. That was when the world of writing was  also safe, from technology, we could recycle material, if we wanted, with little fear of being outted. 

But beyond that, the point is, what was Parker really thinking? When I think of technology and  sameness in wines and I'm thinking marketers, enzymes, new oak, bacteria, tannins, MOX, RO, acidulation, etc. etc.   I asked a friend who was a fly on the wall in 1987, was Parker really talking about fining and filtering? My friend said, yes.

He reminded me:  Remember that in 1987 he was in the thrall of Bobby Kacher  and Bobby was basically selling barrel samples. Bob jumped on the bandwagon of the time about no racking, especially. 

Parker's  point, at the time and now, he reminded me, was actually, was about putting everything into the bottle. Back then that meant sludge, which he took  as a sign of authenticity. But you know what Velcorin can do, right? People can define intervention in many ways, usually to their own ends.

For some reason Parker never viewed the use of  concentrator, over-used in Bordeaux, which is a mega-filter, as filtering. He was certainly knowledgeable  of the technologies but never really accepted that they were used in fine wine for the collector, the wines he focused on.

We all have our blind spots. I strive for  360 vision, but  fail. I rely on my friends and readers to call me out when I miss the dark corners.

Never the less, read that Dark Side, it is very beautiful, hearfelt rant, very relevant to day in many respects, especially in light of Antonio Galloni's recent jumping of ship and the conversations of the future of wine criticism. Parker gives sage advice to those wishing to be wine critics, and I think one can extend that to wine writers: 

Independence.Courage.Experience. Individual Accountability. Emphasis on Pleasure and Value. The Focus on Qualitative Issues. Candor.

Parker embodied all of the above as much as he could. In fact, if he wanted to continue with his credo, he should, perhaps, let his  Chinese Singaporean investors and his new editor Lisa Perrotti-Brown keep The Wine Advocate. And do what? If he didn't sign a 'no compete' he should follow Galloni's lead,  jump ship and start his own publication, again. Because as he said to me, back in 2007, “Once the bean counters take charge, it’s all over.” 

 

 

Related articles

Wine criticism faces its shifting future

American vermouths, anything goes

In case you missed the piece I had in the New York Times on the new crop of odd and great vermouths coming out of America, give a click on the above link and check it out. 

The back story was when I walked into a part in December in Stuy Town.  In fact the original story started like this:

    Bianca Miraglia was squished into the rear of a cramped kitchen, draining a glass of old barbaresco with her friends. The 29-year old with the open, heart-shape face was talking natural wines when she switched gears. “Want to taste vermouths?”

    Defying the tipple’s sissy reputation, I eagerly thrust my glass in front of her. She had three versions, bitter, barely sweet, sophisticated. They had a dryness I never experienced in the often too syrupy drink. “Wait. You made these?” I asked.

            America has been slow in warming to vermouth. Vya, the first big commercial splash in domestic vermouths came out of California in 1999. Another Californian Sutton, and Imbue from Oregon followed in a decade. By spring of 2013, nearly half of the country’s six craft producers  (2.5) will be peddling their wares out of Brooklyn, threatening to turn the borough into Turin on the Hudson. And while the popular attitude is changing—especially in the hipster crowd, the drink remains much maligned. Miraglia’s seasonally themed product, Uncouth Vermouth, might be the real game changer. 

    But that was the blog version. Thanks to New York Times editing (might I always have Patrick whispering corrections and suggestions in my ear) it became the clickable story.

But what I wanted in the piece was Bianca's sensibility. Take a look at her mise en place.

 

and this...................

 

and then there were the fabulous bottles created by artist Matthew Rose that of course had to be

um, edited by the ATF......

 

So the piece comes out. I base my piece on the fact that in American you can make vermouth which means wormwood in German, and you don't have to use wormwood! (Bianca uses a close relative.) As things happen, I found out that there was one vermouth I forgot about and......unlike almost anyone else in the United States, he uses wormwood. With great apologies to Ted Seestedt of Ransom spirits, I eagerly look forward to tasting your product.