2007 Raymond Sommelier Selection Cabernet Sauvignon

The Sommelier Selects the Uninspired

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t bad wine. It might not be easy to find, and it might not be the cheapest (Raymond’s “Reserve Selection” sells for less and is more readily available, from what I can discern), but it isn’t bad. The thing is, it isn’t particularly good, either.

2007 Raymond Sommelier Selection Cabernet Sauvignon

These are tough wines to write about. Wines from renowned producers (or at the very least, popular producers), that really are not examples of bad wine, but that I also can’t get all giddy excited about and explain breathlessly to you why you should drink it.

I know this is available by the glass at a local wine bar to me, because that’s where I tried it, but you may not have a hip wine bar near you. You may not be able to find the Sommelier Selection, but if you really like cabernet (who doesn’t?), the following notes sound up your alley, the price is right, and the opportunity presents… you could do much worse.

The wine is dark ruby red at its core, and only lightens a touch, to a brighter shade of ruby. On the nose is a bit too much alcohol for my taste, but some nice blackberry and black cherry, and a hint of cedar box.

The 2007 Raymond Sommelier Selection is light to medium-bodied, with a short finish, and tannins that are present, but not too rough on you. Mostly-similar notes to the nose appear on the palate, including the black cherry and cedar, but there is a touch of herbaciousness here, something just a touch green, that you’ll either love or hate, depending on how you like your cabernet.

I can recommend the Raymond, it’s a bit simple, but easy to drink and inoffensive.

2007 Felsina Berardenga ‘I Sistri’ Chardonnay

Chardonnay From Another Planet (Actually, From Tuscany)

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-

2007 Felsina Berardenga 'I Sistri' Chardonnay

2007 Felsina Berardenga 'I Sistri' Chardonnay

2007 Quivira Wine Creek Ranch Mourvèdre

Pure Dry Creek Valley Mourvèdre

2007 Quivira Wine Creek Ranch Mourvèdre

Have you ever had a pure varietal mourvèdre wine? I don’t think I had until this one.

Mourvèdre (a.k.a. Monastrell and Mataró) is a common grape in both Spanish blends (as Monastrell) and as a main ingredient in Châteauneuf-du-Pape and CdP-style wines (usually called “GSMs”). But finding it made as a pure 100% varietal wine is a bit more difficult.

I think, after tasting this, I know now where some of the rusticness of GSMs comes from: it’s the “M.” I’ve had plenty of 100% (or dominant 85%+) grenaches and syrahs, from all over the place (France, Spain, California, Washington, Australia) and not one ever felt “rustic” to me. Syrah is bold and powerful; grenache, supple and gorgeous—when done well, of course.

Mourvèdre, on the other hand, is rustic. It’s the Gerald McRaney to grenache’s Jameson Parker. Although McRaney was kind of like syrah, too. Whatever, this is a discussion for another time, anyway.

So, given mourvèdre’s usual place as a blending grape, what does a 100% mourvèdre taste like? Did I mention this is also a certified Biodynamic wine?

In the glass, the wine has a ruby red core that fades to pink edges. On the nose is that rusticness I was talking about: a hint of fruit (cherries and blueberries) but mostly earth, dirt, and chalk, with a hint of barnyard that some freaks like me enjoy, and some non-freaks (maybe like you) might not.

The wine is light-bodied, and crisper than its shade in the glass would lead you to believe. The wine is exceptionally balanced: a bit of biting acidity, some supple, soft tannins, and its not-low 14.7% ABV all come together to sit on a three-way playground see-saw, and no one falls down. The herby-vegetal cherry bush thing is here that I sometimes find in cabernet franc, but it’s nice and subtle. Way more cherry than bush, as it were.

I think I need to find more 100% mourvèdre.

Verdict: B+