Shameful Wines

As someone who asks so little of wine, it is hard for me to conceive of one that is undrinkable.  Although I normally romanticize wine here, revere its place in history and extol it virtues, wine is fundamentally a beverage to have with food.  As a complement to our meal, white wine should invigorate the palate with some acidity and coalesce with salads, fish, seafood and other such light fare. On the other hand, red wine requires enough body and flavor to harmonize with rich, savory beef dishes but never to the extent of overwhelming our taste buds with harsh tannins.  Lastly and equally important, all wine should possess a discernible amount of fruit or non-fruit flavor.  As difficult as it is for me to imagine any wine not meeting this simple criterion—I found two.  One was a red wine from Italy and the other a white wine from Portugal. These wines were so offensive that even I would not drink them.  

All this begs the question… is it that wine producers and/or wine merchants think that no one will notice just how bad the wine is? Or do they think we do not know enough about wine to deem it undrinkable?  Either supposition is insulting. Since such unpalatable wines are offered for sale, I have decided to create a Wall of Shame, exposing them for what they are—shameful examples of wine!

 The first member of the Wall of Shame is a 2010 Chianti Classico produced by Isole e Olena. After enduring an hour long tasting process with this wine, which included decanting the contents of the bottle and examining each sip before swallowing, the harsh tannins eventually abated, leaving a long and unpleasant acid finish.  In so far as any taste sensations are concerned, I have yet to discover any fruit or non-fruit flavors for my efforts. More to the point, this wine is devoid of any such pleasantries.  As result of purchasing an undrinkable wine for dinner I now have a twenty-five dollar bottle of cooking wine.    

The next addition to the Wall of Shame is the 2011 Vinho Verde from Quinta Da Aveleda.  Vinho Verde is one of my favorite white wines from Portugal. They are crisp, light bodied wines with a delicate effervescence that are delightful accompaniments for a myriad of dishes such as omelets, salads, cheese, steamed mussels, clams and more. Unfortunately I cannot say the same for the 2011 Vinho Verde from Quinta Da Aveleda; this is nothing more than lemon fizzy water masquerading as wine.  Thankfully it only cost eight dollars. Still, that does not excuse any wine maker or wine merchant from selling such an unworthy wine. 

One last question; is flavor and balance too much to ask of any wine?  I certainly think not. Thankfully, most wines are endowed with pleasant taste sensations and are not over-burdened with excessive acids or tannins. Sadly, the same is not true of the Chianti by Isole e Olena and the Vinho Verde from Quinta Da Aveleda. These wines deserve their ignominious place on our Wall of Shame for falsely claiming themselves to be drinkable—which they are not!

The Spanish Wine of Distinction

Sherry

     The common misconception of Sherry today, is that all Sherry is a sweet, creamy wine similar to Harvey’s Bristol Cream. This is not the Sherry that Edgar Allen Poe’s, Fortunato, in “The Cask of Amontillado”, perilously but avidly traipsed through dank underground caverns, filled with “nitre” to taste.

    Sherry devolved into this sweet creamy styled wine to meet the needs of a mass consumer export market and as a result lacks the nuance and complexity that fine Spanish Sherry is endowed with. “Real” Sherry is a unique wine from Spain’s bygone era of an empire with conquistadors sailing the seven seas in search of treasure and new trade routes. This Sherry, the Sherry of old Spain is an intriguing and often times a beguiling white wine; and then there are times it is an amber hued opulent wine to savor.

     As with fine Champagne, Sherry takes its name from its place of origin, Jerez de la Frontera, a town in southwest Spain. The name “Jerez” morphed into “Sherry” by the British, those age-old lovers of all wines, who mispronounced the name Jerez, as Sherry; as it is known today. “Jerez”, its proper Spanish name, is a fanciful wine that is delightful with food, as it was originally intended, or as an aperitif. Also similar to fine French Champagne, Jerez requires long and special treatment, setting it apart from ordinary wine. Some forms of Jerez mature in barrels under a protective coating of yeast called the flor, imparting fine and delicate qualities to it that other wines do not have. Almost all Jerez is made from a unique, time consuming blending system called solera, in which older barrels of Jerez are topped off with younger ones of the same style. The solera manner of transferring young Jerez from recent vintages to barrels of Jerez from older vintages, year after year, is similar to French vintners blending different grapes to produce outstanding wines in Bordeaux France.

     The Andalusia region of Spain, where Jerez comes from is steeped in the culture and tradition of “old” Spain, dating back to its Moorish and Arabic origins. One folk tale attributed to Jerez is how Tapas, which is the Spanish practice of serving small plates of food started. The word tapa means lid or cover. What we call Tapas today started long ago in Spanish bars as a practical means of keeping fruit flies off of a glass of Jerez with a simple piece of bread. This eventually led to small amounts of food on the bread, such as olives, cheese, ham and sausage, to encourage more drinking. Today there are innumerable Tascas (bars that offer Tapas) throughout Spain offering a vast array of delectables known as “Tapas”.
    Jerez is fortified with additional alcohol after all of the grape’s natural sugar has been converted to alcohol, making it a naturally dry, not sweet, white wine. There are two basic types of Jerez, Fino and Oloroso. Usually the finest batches of grapes are reserved for Fino because it is fortified with less alcohol than Oloroso and it is the most delicate of all the different versions of Jerez.

The Beautiful Fino and the Beastly Flor


     The Fino style of Jerez matures in wood barrels under a fascinating protective covering of yeast called the flor. The yeast or the flor grows naturally on the surface of the wine in the barrel, creating a beastly, foamy layer of bubbling yeast. The flor prevents the wine from oxidizing and lives on the air in the barrel and feeds off of the alcohol and glycerin in the wine. Underneath the unsightly layer of yeast a magical transformation takes place. Beneath the murky covering of the flor is a beautiful pale, straw-like colored wine that is thinner and more delicate than it otherwise would be and is teeming with a profusion of extraordinary aromas and pungent flavors.
     Once the Fino loses the protective coating of the flor by bottling, it becomes susceptible to oxidation spoilage and loses its youthful exuberance. To experience Fino at its peak, it should be consumed as fresh from the barrel as possible. Unfortunately, it is impossible for us to savor the fresh, pungent flavors of Fino straight from the barrels. Freshness aside, Finos are worth experiencing to discover the real dry, elegant taste of Jerez.
     Another version of Fino is Manzanilla, made only in Sanlúcar de Barrameda on the western coast of Spain. Sanlúcar de Barrameda is one of the three towns that make up what is know as the “sherry triangle” in Andalusia; the other two towns are Jerez de la Frontera and Puerto de Santa Maria. The Jerez of Sanlúcar de Barrameda is heavily influenced by the moist, salty air of the Atlantic Ocean that fosters a thicker flor in the barrel. Manzanilla also has a pale-straw hue, as other Finos, but is the driest and most pungent version of Fino, owing to the salt-water air in the flor. This too should be consumed at its freshest to fully appreciate the aromatics of the flor enhanced by the salty sea air.
    Oloroso on the other hand is a Jerez that we can enjoy now and one that is at its best long after bottling. This version of Jerez is traditionally barrel aged, without the protective coating of the flor and is fortified with more alcohol than Fino. Since Oloroso has already been exposed to oxygen during its maturation it can age almost indefinitely in an unopened bottle. Depending on the length of aging in the barrel, the colors of Oloroso range from shimmering amber to luxuriant mahogany. It is lush and full bodied, with wonderful aromas of walnuts and still dry to the taste without the tart pungency of Fino. Unlike Fino, that is best fresh, we can enjoy the soft, rich, nutty flavors of Oloroso long after it has been bottled in Spain.
     In-between the pungent taste of Fino and the mellow Oloroso, is my favorite Jerez and also the wine that Fortunato lost his life trying to taste—Amontillado. Initially, Amontillado is made as Fino, maturing under the flor, and then allowed to age further without the oxygen depriving cover of the flor. The result is a marvelous, amber hued cross between Fino and Oloroso for us to savor as often as we like. Amontillado combines the distinctive pungency and delicacy created by the flor with the richness of Oloroso and manifests its own unique hazelnut aromas and nutty flavors. Happily, we do not have to undergo a perilous journey through musty caverns to relish the flavors of Amontillado.
     Yet another Jerez that starts off as Fino, aging with the flor and then maturing without it is Manzanilla Pasado. This is darker and fuller bodied than Manzanilla but is still crisp and pungent because of the thickness of the flor in Sanlúcar de Barrameda where it is made.
    The Jerez of Spain’s glorious past is not today’s sugary version that we associate it with but it is the pungently dry, delicate Fino or the rich, tawny Oloroso or the variations of Amontillado, Manzanilla or Manzanilla Pasado in-between. These are the intriguing wines that Spanish aristocrats sipped, while lounging on the patios of their gleaming white haciendas, overlooking the mountains of Andalusia or the cobalt seas of the Costa del Sol, while listening to the reverberating strings of Spanish guitars and the clacking castanets of flamenco dancers in the background. These are the tastes of Jerez!

Ole!

A Champagne Fantasy

Let your mind wander and fantasize with me for a brief moment. We are standing in a noisy cabaret. The gas lamps are flickering from the dense smoke wafting in the hot, steamy air. There is music reverberating in every corner of the room from the pulsating rhythms of Jacques Offenbach’s melodies. On the stage we see a line of dancers with ruffled, red skirts of satin and lace exposing one outstretched, gyrating leg in the air, while rhythmically bouncing on the other leg to keep pace with the rollicking cancan music. The tops of their heaving bosoms are accentuated by corseted waists and are partially exposed in low cut white silk blouses. Perspiration is shimmering on their bare shoulders. Their lungs are screaming for air as the music’s pace quickens.

Outside the cabaret walls, on the Boulevard de Clichy, resting at the base of Monmatre (a hill thirty meters high in Paris) it is cold and dark but inside it is bright and steaming hot from the crowd of people. The atmosphere is carefree and festive in the newest dancehall in the Pigalle section of Paris, France. It is a time for gaiety and celebration in an era that will later be called—La Belle Époque! Science and technology are making life easier for everyone with the spreading of electricity across France. The New Year offers great hopes for prosperity in a Europe at peace.

 We are standing on the crowded dance floor of the legendary Moulin Rouge. The date is December 31, 1889. It is the inaugural year of the notorious cabaret frequented by the post- impressionist artist, Toulouse-Lautrec. The Champagne from the House of Clicquot is flowing and bubbling over in the glasses of the revelers. In the ballroom lusty, perfumed woman, with highlighted cheeks of rouge, mingle in the crowd adding an air of excitement to the festivities. It is an eclectic gathering of upper class, waist coated nouveau bourgeoisie and prostitutes mingling and rollicking together. Off in a far corner of the room the diminutive Toulouse-Lautrec sits quietly sketching the festivities on a sheet of paper with a charcoal stick. The time nears, the excitement crescendos and erupts in a mass chorus counting down to midnight,

“Dix, neuf, huit, sept, six, cinq, quatre, trois, deux…Bonne Année!”

The Royal Wine

Champagne bespeaks gaiety, opulence and frivolity. The tiny bubbles, long held captive in bottles frivolously dance their way to the tops of elegant, slim flutes while beckoning the holder to come and play. “Leave your troubles behind for another time.” They seem to say. “Indulge yourself in my richness.

I am not an ordinary wine.

  I am Champagne!

 Champagne is the royalty of wine. To evolve into Champagne, wine undergoes two fermentation processes. The first fermentation takes place in wooden barrels as ordinary wine, and then this still (non-effervescent) wine is transferred to bottles made of thick glass that will transform it from wine to Champagne! The transformation process that is the genesis of Champagne is called Methode Champenoise. It is in this old, time consuming process and the origin of the grapes that makes Champagne different from all other sparkling wines.

In the second fermentation, Methode Champenoise or the Traditional Methode as it is also known; sugar and yeast are added to the still wine to activate the second fermentation. The bottle is corked to prevent the carbon dioxide from escaping. The dead yeast or sediment that forms in the bottle is slowly maneuvered down onto the cork and into the bottle’s neck by a process called riddling (remuage in France). This process consists of inverting the bottles, cork down, on a forty-five degree angle in a specially built rack (pupitre) that was invented by Madame Clicquot in the early eighteen hundreds. Then every three to four days a Remuer (a skilled craftsman) gives the bottle a slight lift and a small turn, by hand, dropping the bottle in the rack with a slight jolt, and then gradually increasing the angle of the tilt downward by lowering the top of the pupitre. This laborious process continues for about six to eight weeks until the sediment is completely collected on the cork and the bottle is upside down. At this point the cork is removed, releasing the collected sediment (disgorgement) and what remains in the bottle is the result of the skillful Remuer’s loving care— crystal clear, sparkling, flavorful Champagne. The bottle is topped-off with a combination of wine, brandy and or sugar, depending on the desired level of sweetness and finally resealed with a new cork and wire.

The use of the name “Champagne” by sparkling wine producers not located in the province of Champagne has, for a very long time been a contentious legal battle among winemakers outside of France. Due to Champagne’s ever increasing popularity and its reputation for painstaking quality it is only natural that other sparkling wines, which are made in the same Traditional Methode, would want to be named Champagne. This name however, denotes more than just a fermentation process; it is also the province in France where the grapes are grown. As I have written many times before in this column and in others, in Europe it is all about the soil—terroir. To the European winemaker the soil plays an integral role in determining the characteristics of the wine along with the winemaking method. Setting international treaties aside for a moment; the question begs to be answered. “If a wine is associated with the place the grapes are grown, then how can wines made from grapes grown elsewhere use the same name?”

In Spain for example, sparkling wine made in the Traditional Methode, is called Cava (see my July 2008 article in the Tubac Villager). Other provinces of France, such as Burgundy and Alsace also make sparkling wine in the Traditional Methode but call them Crémant de Bourgogne and Crémant d’Alsace respectively. The reason is simple—the wine is not from the province of Champagne.

Sparkling wines made in the United States are commonly labeled “Champagne”. The reasons for this are many. For the most part the right to use the name “Champagne” was codified in the Treaty of Versailles, after World War I. The Congress of the Unites States did not ratify the treaty and we consider ourselves free to use the name “Champagne” for our sparkling wine. From my perspective, wine grown in the province of Champagne, made in the Traditional Methode, is “Champagne”. All the other sparkling wines that are made in the Traditional Methode, no matter how good they may be, are simply not Champagne. They are like Champagne, made the same way as Champagne but not Champagne.

     Having Champagne is always a memorable experience; whether it is welcoming in a new year, celebrating a joyous event, accompanying food or just sipping it quietly by oneself, its memory lingers. Champagne is so distinctive that everything associated with it becomes memorable.

Sommelier Champagne Selections

Over the years I have enjoyed some of the finest Champagnes produced. Two that come to mind are Cristal and Gosset Grand Reserve. My memory of Cristal is a light, bone dry, crystal clear, shimmering Champagne, gently dancing on my tongue. My mouth waters with the thought of Cristal and caviar.
The mention of Gosset brings back memories of drinking the NV (non vintage) Brut, for the first time, with lunch in a little French boulangerier (bakery) in the village of Epernay that is home to the House of Gosset. Having Champagne with a simple lunch in a French boulangerier may sound terribly decadent but logically, what else would anyone have in the Champagne producing province of France. The Gosset, NV Brut is not as dry as Cristal but still very delicate with a bit more yeast flavors on the palate. The Gosset Grand Reserve is a bit drier than the NV Brut and more delicate but still not as dry as Cristal.

My favorite though is Ruinart, Blanc de Blanc. I will always be indebted to my generous daughter-in-law for making me a gift of this incredibly tasty bubbly. The House of Ruinart is the oldest, continuously producing Champagne house in Reims, France. The Blanc de Blanc is one hundred percent Chardonnay. Each mouthful titillates the palate with tiny effervescence and is full of rich yeast and wet straw aromas. It is a savory, full bodied Champagne that energizes the taste buds with more yeast richness and hints of citrus. Each sip is seductive and inviting.

Gosset and Ruinart are available in wines stores throughout Arizona and usually sell for more than fifty dollars each. As a less expensive American made alternative, I recommend any vintage version of Gruet, Blanc De Blanc from New Mexico (yes, New Mexico). The Gruet family has been producing Champagne in the small town of Bethon, France since 1952. In 1984 Gilbert Gruet’s son Laurent and his sister, Nathalie started making Sparkling Wine, using the Traditional Methode in Albuquerque, New Mexico. As a French family they appropriately do not call their sparkling wine Champagne. It is produced in the Method Champenoise and is a very good value for twenty-five dollars.

Gruet’s Blanc De Blanc is made from Chardonnay, with crisp citrus flavors and is moderately dry to the taste. It starts off a little harsh when the bottle is first opened but softens nicely, after about fifteen minutes of breathing time in the bottle. The bubbles are uniformly tight to delight and reward the budget conscious with a very good value for their dollar spent. Gruet is conveniently available locally.

This year as the clock ticks down to the New Year, lift your glasses with me and let us return to our fantasy celebration at the Moulin Rouge. Come with me where the Champagne is flowing and memories are being born. As we step inside we will hear, “Bienvenue à mon fard à joues de Moulin Rouge. Bonne Année!”

Bernard Berlin

Beaujolais-The Joyous Country Wines of Two Seasons

“Look into a glass of wine from Beaujolais and see the harmony of the hillsides, the smiles of the winegrowers, and the charm of the vineyards and its cellars.” The late Compte Henri de Rambuteau and former president of Confrérie des Compagnons du Beaujolais said this of his beloved province of Beaujolais to an American friend.

There is no other wine in France that epitomizes the personality of the area’s countryside and its people, as much as the wine from Beaujolais. A single mouthful of this wine reveals a subtle effervescence that bursts forth with mouthwatering fruity berry flavors, beckoning the introduction of food. The French enjoy this light red wine with almost any dish, including fish.

The ability of these wines to accompany such a wide variety of food comes from their simple, almost innocent nature. The first sip will be as delightfully revealing as the last swallow, pleasant and fruity. Its lighthearted feel in the mouth invites the company of sausages, hearty vegetables such as mushrooms and potatoes, roasted chickens or rich creamy quiches, brimming with vegetables or ham or both. The wines of Beaujolais are the perfect choice for springtime’s lighter fare or as a year round, everyday table wine.

November is harvest time in the province of Beaujolais. There are a total of twelve growing areas or appellations in this province. Only two of the twelve appellations, Beaujolais and Beaujolais Villages, situated in the southern half of the province are the home of Beaujolais Nouveau (new Beaujolais). This “new” wine, released as early as three weeks after harvesting is an exuberant expression of the ancient winemaking process called carbonic maceration. Very few wine growing regions, other than Beaujolais, still use this method. First, whole grapes internally ferment for several days while sitting in steel vats, then the grapes undergo crushing and fermentation to become wine.

The color of Beaujolais Nouveau has an appealing luminous iridescence. The strawberry aromas wafting from this “new” wine are light and fresh, provoking a Proustian memory of summer mornings on a country fruit farm. When sipped it dances on our palates with mild fruity acids; a good-natured companion to whatever food we are having.

In April, all twelve of the appellations in the province, including Beaujolais and Beaujolais Villages, release what the French refer to as the “mature” Beaujolais. In just a few short months, after carbonic maceration takes place and waiting in wood barrels, the “mature” wines replace the “new” wine. They are whimsically playful on the palate and spring into our mouths alive with light-hearted fruity energy, slightly tempered by their brief stay in wood barrels.

Beaujolais’ location is near perfect for growing grapes. Their winemakers say that their vineyards are where the winds of the Atlantic Ocean and Loire River Valley join with the winds coming up from the Rhone River Valley and the Mediterranean Sea, to caress their vines. The province lies southeast of Paris between the celebrated terroir (soil) of Burgundy, at its northern most point and south to Lyon, the home of some of the most celebrated restaurants in France.

The long history of Beaujolais, the wine and the region, is one of honest, hardworking people making an unpretentious drinking wine for everyone to enjoy. Their winemaking skills pass on from generation to generation. Some of the winemaking families in Beaujolais have lived there for many generations. Each succeeding generation grows up with the feel of the soil on their hands and an understanding of the grape that sitting in a university classroom cannot impart. Long ago, long before wine cooperatives were established and prior to négociants selling most of the wine produced in Beaujolais, their winemakers sold their wine by the barrel, directly to the cafés as far south as the city of Lyon.

Le Beaujolais Nouveau est Arrivé!
Every year, in the cold darkness of night, on the third Thursday of November, precisely one minute past midnight, caravans of trucks laden with millions of cases of Beaujolais Nouveau, stream away from the vineyards in the southern half of Beaujolais to distribute their fêted cargo. Celebrating the arrival of “Beaujolais Premeur”, its original name, is a two hundred year old French tradition that originated with horse drawn carts delivering barrels of the “new” wine throughout the nearby towns and villages.

Today, not just the French but also the world celebrates Beaujolais Nouveau’s arrival. In cities all over the world, from Paris to New York, in wine shops and restaurants, posters are proudly displayed declaring, Le Beaujolais Nouveau est Arrivé! No wine’s release is as heralded or as anticipated as that of Beaujolais Nouveau.

In the springtime, when the excitement of Beaujolais Nouveau has subsided, the “mature wines” of Beaujolais takes center stage. These are the wines from the appellations of Saint-Amour, Juliénas, Chénas, Moulin-à-Vent, Fleurie, Chiroubles, Morgon, Régnié, Côtes de Brouilly, Brouilly, Beaujolais and Beaujolais Villages, that are slightly aged compared to their “new” wine cousin. In human terms, the “mature wines” would be akin to teenagers, still teeming with unbridled energy but less youthful, by comparison to their “new” born relative.

A favorite of mine from this historic French region and a very good expression of the “mature wine” from Beaujolais is from Chateau de La Chaize, in Brouilly. The domaine or property is one of the largest and grandest in the region. The same architect of the Palace of Versailles, built for Louis XIV, signed the château’s plans; their sumptuous, regal gardens are the work of the same designer of the beautiful and colorful Tuileries Gardens, adjacent to the Louvre, in Paris. The wine of Chateau de La Chaize is estate bottled and is one hundred percent Gamay, which is the principal grape of Beaujolais. It is an affable, fruity wine that feels as if it is gently sparkling on the palate. I have been enjoying this wine for over ten years and each vintage is consistently pleasurable with almost any food.

Delight in any of the wines from Beaujolais while they are young, within six months after the November release for Beaujolais Nouveau; drink the “mature wines” within one year to three or possible four years after their date of vintage. Remember the pleasure of Beaujolais lies within its youthful exuberance. It excites the palate with mild fruity acids; the aromas inspire memories of fresh cut fruit, with hints of garden soil. The colors are invariably shimmering garnet, luring the beholder to take pleasure in the joyous country wines from Beaujolais.

This year, burst forth into springtime with me and enjoy any of the lively, energetic wines from Beaujolais!
Bernard Berlin