Tasting notes and wine reviews | Notes From The Cellar

July 22nd, 2010

Growing Portuguese Grapes in Monterey County

2009 Bonny Doon Vinho Grinho

I like Portuguese wine.

I like Randall Grahm.

So it’s no surprise that I like this wine. I don’t love it, not yet, but there’s so much to like about it, I’m still pretty excited.

By now, chances are you know the tale. Maybe you’ve even heard me tell it. The tale of the Rhône Ranger, Randall Grahm, who twenty-some odd years ago starting really going to town growing Rhône varieties in California, which had been dominated by the noble species of Bordeaux and Burgundy to that point.

But now, everybody’s growing grenache and syrah. OK, maybe not everybody, but still, the two grapes—especially syrah—are incredibly easy to find in California wine now. Randall doesn’t seem the type to do much laurels-resting, so where’s he headed next?

Portugal.

I don’t know of anyone in California—and please, please correct me if I’m wrong—making wine that is over 50% loureiro. Besides Bonny Doon, that is.

At 56% loureiro and 44% alvarinho (I use albariño’s Portuguese spelling here for obvious reasons), Bonny Doon’s Vinho Grinho (VEEN-yo GREEN-yo) is California’s first attempt¹ at Portugal’s venerable Vinho Verde white wine. The grapes hail from BD’s Ca’ del Solo estate vineyards in Monterey County.

And it’s pretty damn good. It will kind of depend on what you’re looking for in a white, of course, but this was something I enjoyed, and my wife actually kind of raved about.

The wine is almost clear, light yellow in the glass. Kind of sauv blancish if you’ve never seen a Vinho Verde before, and kind of Vinho Verdesque if you have. The nose features pine and green herbs, but not heavy, very light in the air.

The wine is actually a bit fuller-bodied than I expected, but I would still characterize it as “light-to-medium” bodied. Minty herbs that reflect the aromas on the nose are greeted by a pleasant green apple note on the palate. The wine is not particularly acidic, and finishes pretty short, but it’s not meant to be big or bombastic.

I hope this is an example of things to come for California winemaking, just as Randall’s adoption of the south of France was in the 1980s. The world could use more wine from Portuguese grapes.

Verdict: B

2009 Bonny Doon Vinho Grinho

Footnotes

again, that I know of ↩

Tags: 2009, albarino, B, Bonny Doon Vineyard, green apple, herbs, light yellow, light-to-medium body, loureiro, mint, Monterey County

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July 20th, 2010

The Real Meaning of “Value”

2009 Silver Birch Sauvignon Blanc (Octavin)

I just don’t get it.

A few people I really like and respect have reviewed this wine ahead of me. Jason over at Jason’s Wine Blog (who, it should be noted, specializes in reviewing wine at the lower end of the price spectrum), while not formally giving the 2009 Silver Birch in the bladder inside the octagonal cardboard the once-over, did mention it in a recent post as “…impressive and… a crowd favorite.“

A couple of my homeboys (as it were), including fellow Trés Amigo Josh Wade at Drink Nectar wrote this guy up, and gave it a 3 out of 5, which I translate in my little head as something resembling an 80 on the Robert Parker point scale. Josh mentions specifically that this is a value buy.

The same score was given out by Those Who Are The Best New Wine Blog Twentyten at Swirl, Smell, Slurp, where both She and He gave, individually, a score of 3 out of 5. They refer to the wine as “good” after calling food They consumed “great,” so I have to consider that a less-than-rousing endorsement of the wine—but an endorsement nonetheless.

Liking this a bit more is my buddy and fellow fantasy baseballer Josh Sweeney at wine(explored). With his forgiveness, I am going to include here his entire review verbatim, including his 7 out of 10 (which, in my little messed up world, is something like an 85 on Parker’s scale):

2009 Silver Birch Sauvignon Blanc: 7/10. This is a classic, aggressive, beautifully flavored Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc. I actually had a lot of trouble keeping my pace with this box. It drank so well for so long, I actually finished it a week early. If you can get the 2009 before we hit 2011, I highly, highly recommend it for anyone who likes a crisp, acidic Sauv Blanc.

Josh likes.

So, the consensus seems to be that this is average-to-good wine, that when coupled with its price (around $24 for a 3L box, or about $6 per bottle-equivalent) is recommended pretty much across the board by my blogging contemporaries.

I don’t fucking see it.

This is plonk. This is nigh-undrinkable, one-note, over-acidic plonk, and I can’t consider wine like that a “value” at any price, including free (which, because this was sent to me by someone involved in the promotion of this product, it was).

I think the wine blog whateversphere has found itself in the dangerous territory of trying to redefine “value.” High value is not necessarily correlated with low price.

The Chateâu d’Yquem I reviewed last week, regardless of how good it is (and oh my GOD it is good) cannot be considered a “value.” It costs somewhere in the neighborhood of $300-$400 per bottle-equivalent (and is much more common in the 375ml half-bottle). But that’s not why. It can’t be considered a “value” because that price point is basically the worldwide peak for Sauternes.

However, the $30 Napa cult wine The Prisoner is absolutely a value. It drinks like a $60-$80 bottle. Many people would argue that wine that costs $30 (or $20, or some other arbitrary number) cannot be considered “value” wine, because it is out of some people’s price range.

To me, this is a bastardization of the concept of “value,” and leads to situations like this: crap wine given more than its due simply because it costs less than a child’s ticket to the cinema.

So here are my notes.

The wine looks like a sauv blanc, very light yellow-to-clear in the glass. On the nose is a light alcohol sting (but not terrible), grapefruit, and some grass.

The palate, however, is all one note. This tastes like grapefruit juice. Almost sour, but really, it’s the high, unbalanced acidity here that is making me think “underripe grapefruit.” Can’t blame the grapefruit for that. Did I mention this tastes like grapefruit juice?

I can’t call that a value, personally. And I can’t recommend this wine.

Verdict: C-

P.S., since I compared everyone’s else’s score to the RMPJOHPS (Robert M. Parker Jr. One Hundred Point Scale), I will tell you that in my little world—where we are right now—a C- is something in the high 60s. Definitely under 70 points.

P.P.S., a 12-pack of 32oz bottles of Ocean Spray white grapefruit juice will run you about $35. That’s around $2.30 per 750ml. Just sayin’.

(full disclosure: this wine was received as a press sample. No way I’d pay for this.)

2009 Silver Birch Sauvignon Blanc

Tags: 2009, C-, grapefruit, grass, light body, light yellow, Marlborough, New Zealand, sauvignon blanc, Silver Birch

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July 16th, 2010

What Angels Drink

2003 Château d’Yquem Sauternes

Where to begin?

First, the name. There are a handful of wines that I have specifically put on a bucket list. Wines I want to drink before I die. Names like Château Petrus, Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, Dom Pérignon, Château Cheval Blanc, and, yes, Château d’Yquem.

Second, the style of wine. Sauternes is botrytized semillon and sauvignon blanc (this one is 80% of the former, 20% of the latter) and it’s delicious. I wrote up a Sauternes-style wine from Sonoma County, and I’d still recommend that wine without hesitation. However, this… this is something else.

Let me just burst any bubble you might have here: this is expensive wine. This is world-renowned, expensive wine. A 375ml half-bottle of 2003 Château d’Yquem is $150–$200.

OK, so what’s it like?

First, the color is a perfect gold. It’s truly gorgeous. Swirling the glass even lightly shows the viscosity one would expect from a dessert wine. No surprises here.

The surprises begin when you get your face anywhere near this stuff. The nose is soft and lustrous, and shows off a lightly sweet honey note, along with a hint of bright, sharp cheese, and a nuttiness that comes off to me like candied cashews. I am so excited to be able to use candied cashews in a wine review.

The wine is full-bodied, but not heavy. It doesn’t coat your mouth, it just kind of covers the whole thing. Does that not sound dissimilar to you? I’m not sure how else to describe this mouthfeel—it is both full-bodied and light on the tongue. And I’m not sure how.

Notes of honey and nuttiness from the nose mix with a hint of lemon zest, but more than that, with a caramel note that, like the rest of this wine, stays light and soft while also feeling downright elegant. Luxury in a glass.

I wish this wine was less expensive. I wish I could have it all the time. But, like many of the world’s finest things, high demand must be counterbalanced by high cost, because it is simply impossible to make enough of something this good to satisfy everyone who wants some.

However, if you have a chance to drink this wine—whether at $400/bottle or $40/glass—give it a go. I cannot imagine the 2003 Château d’Yquem disappointing anyone.

Verdict: A+

2003 Château d'Yquem Sauternes

Tags: 2003, A+, Barsac, candied cashews, caramel, Chateau d'Yquem, full body, honey, lemon zest, Sauternes, sauvignon blanc, semillon, sharp cheese

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July 15th, 2010

Gladly Taken Prisoner

2008 The Prisoner

Orin Swift Cellars is new.

I don’t mean “new” like they were just formed yesterday, or this is their first vintage, or even that you probably haven’t heard of them. They weren’t, the first release of The Prisoner was the 2003 vintage, and it’s entirely likely that you have.

What I mean is that they’re nouveau. They’re young, and vibrant, and current, and modern. Exciting and interesting, doing things and saying things.

Winery honcho/winemaker/jefe Dave Phinney likes him some zinfandel. The first wine he released under the Orin Swift Cellars name was the 2003 Prisoner, a zinfandel-based blend of some incredible Napa juice. The latest vintage is no different.

The 2008 Prisoner is 46% zinfandel, 26% cabernet sauvignon, 15% syrah, 10% petite sirah, 2% charbono, and 1% grenache. The main players, in my opinion, are the first three, and before you read on you should probably try to think, for a second, what a zinfandel/cab sauv/syrah blend might be like.

Ready?

If your first thought was “big,” you get a gold friggin’ star.

Luckily for me, and everyone else who’s had the fortune of drinking the 2008 Prisoner, “big” is not the only appropriate descriptor here. Fruit-forward, balanced, acidic, earthy all work as well. So, the notes, then?

The wine is dark as night in the core of the glass, and lightens to a bright ruby red at the edges. The nose is lush with sweet cherries and darker, richer blackberries, plus a hint of tobacco or cigar box aromas. It smells rich. It smells like it’s not about to fuck around.

The Prisoner is a full-bodied wine that really coats your mouth. Here is an actual note I wrote in my notebook:

Tannin structure out the ass

This, I assure you, should be translated as “lots of structure.” The tannins aren’t rough or overpowering, though. Raspberry and cherry do a little dance, make a little love, and get down with a nicely-balanced earthiness and acidity that just makes itself known on the mid-palate. The lingering finish of cherries keeps you coming back for more.

I say god damn, this is some tasty wine.

The Prisoner has gained a cult following, and it is deserved. This latest vintage is a great example of California red blends done well, and for around $30 a bottle it won’t take your pocketbook captive.

Verdict: A

2008 The Prisoner

Tags: 2008, A, acidic, blackberry, cabernet sauvignon, charbono, cherry, full body, grenache, Napa Valley, Orin Swift Cellars, petite sirah, raspberry, syrah, tobacco, zinfandel

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July 13th, 2010

Chardonnay From Another Planet (Actually, From Tuscany)

2007 Felsina Berardenga ‘I Sistri’ Chardonnay

The concept and history of the Super Tuscan is one of my favorite stories in wine.

First off, it just sounds cool. “Super Tuscan.” Like a crime-fighting superhero who loves pasta and his nonna. But the best part is, of course, how this rogue brand of Italian winemaking came to be.

See, before the 1970s, everyone who made fine wine in Italy did so under the strict rules laid down by the governmental DOC and DOCG bodies, which defined things like the fact that Chianti Classico is a blend, with sangiovese as the dominant grape, and that Barolo is always 100% nebbiolo, etc. But DOC(G) classifications also define almost every element of the winemaking process, like what to use during, and for how long fermentation can occur, to barrel-aging requirements, picking procedures and methods, and on, ad nauseum.

In the 70s, a winemaker in Chianti Classico had had enough. While he was not the first to do this, he may have been the most famous. Piero Antinori wanted to take the Chianti Classico his family had made for over six centuries and make a richer variant. He removed the white grapes from the traditional (and DOCG-required) blend and replaced them with Bordeaux varieties, mostly cabernet sauvignon and merlot. He called the wine Tignanello.

The thing is, Tignanello was not Chianti Classico, though it was wine made from one of the region’s esteemed producers, and still predominantly featured sangiovese. They could not use the name, and in fact, the bottle had to feature the phrase vino da tavola, or “table wine,” normally a phrase reserved for low-grade juice, which Antinori’s new concoction was not.

To this day, the same is true. DOC(G) requirements have not changed. The Italians have created a new label to stamp on fine wine that does not conform to DOC(G) scripture, “IGT.” This wine from Chianti Classsico producer Fattoria di Felsina falls into this IGT category.

The ‘I Sistri’ is 100% chardonnay, and a dark, rich, lustrous gold in the glass. The nose is also rich and lush, featuring, predominantly, notes of pecan praline and honey. This is not chardonnay as I have tasted either from California, or from my favorite French region for the grape, Chablis.

The honeyed nuttiness continues on the palate, as this medium-to-full bodied white brings the same honey and pecan praline flavors from the nose. There is a little residual sugar, it seems, but this is not a dessert wine by any means. On the back end is the most incredible finish of cinnamon that I have ever tasted, and not some sickly-sweet-spicy-fake cinnamon, but like real, freshly grated cinnamon.

Really quite impressive, actually. Not for everyone, to be sure, and not something I would want to drink every day. But if you’re someone who thinks of white wine as the sole province of summer, the warmth and sweet spice of this wine would turn anyone into a chardonnay-in-winter convert.

Verdict: A-