I rarely post on my other blog when I've had wine. For some reason I feel I have to be (relatively) sober when discussing politics, religion and, well, the other stuff I dwell upon there. Here, though, I find a glass by my side helps the flow of ideas.
Tonight we opened one of the first of our fabled '98 Aussie Shirazes. Shiraz's? Whatever. 1998 Charles Cimicky Shiraz Signature, RP some large score, as I recall, highly recommended or "awesome" by the proprietor of the establishment from which it was purchased. Right. Okay, well, it has an "awesome" amount of oak, that's for sure, but the only other awesome thing about it was how awesomely (is that a word?) it tasted and smelled like an overripe Zinfandel blend (e.g., healthy doses of Petite Sirah, Carignane, Alicante Bouschet, Mourvedre, a touch of Grenache, whatever). This kind of wine can be lots of fun, occasionally, but when I open a Shiraz or a Syrah, I expect at least a modicum of bacon fat, some big, ripe cherries and absolutely, positively some substantial element of spice. Not here.
On the other hand, before I start sounding too high and mighty, I believe I may have been a bit too hasty in my judgment of 1990 Burgundies (yes, from the mundane to the sublime we go.) That judgment was largely fueled by the fact that the LOML purchased a number of 1990 Amiot-Servelle Chambolle-Musigny Les Charmes several years ago, with which we've been steadily disappointed over the past year or two. Sunday night, the one we opened was so sour, so acidic, so fruit-less, so, well, bad that we decided to apply the pump and move on to a '95 Girardin Volnay Clos des Chênes (quite delicious and robust, though not particularly complex). But upon re-examinining it (the Amiot-Servelle) tonight, we discovered quite a soft, round, layered bottle of Pinot, a bit tired but whispering of greater things. The flavors in this wine at uncorking suggested that it's well over the hill, but if that were the case, there's no way it could have been as enjoyable as it was tonight after two days in vacuum. I believe we'll hold the last few bottles for a year or three more. They can't get any worse than the initial impression the other night and I'm beginning to suspect that they're just now beginning to wake up.
Friday, January 3, 2003
Happy New Year, one and all. It's not as if I haven't been drinking over the past few weeks, but nothing memorable enough to mention. Well, that's not entirely true. We opened a '95 Ridge Geyserville last night. They just keep getting better and better. Last year, we opened the '93 and the '95 together. My neighbor, who isn't a big wine drinker but knows what she likes, preferred the '93. She found it much more, well, user friendly. So we did a reprise last night. She still loves the '93 but she's now beginning to "get" the '95. It's always nice to hear a fresh perspective on good wine (and bad wine, too) from someone who has no pretensions or agendas and just speaks from the 'buds. My guess is that by next year, the '95 will be better still.
Our last '90 René Engel Clos Vougeot was consumed a few weeks ago with immense enjoyment, long sighs and smacking of lips. It was, indeed, a treasure. Some say the '90s are still in their infancy, but that's not what I'm finding. My cellar conditions were, admittedly, not so good for several years, but I like fruit in my Burgundy and I'm not so sure I want to trade it all in for those secondary flavors that sometimes come around later and sometimes don't. Anyway, we had no regrets about this bottle, except perhaps for the overbearing waiter who decided that our presenting it to him to open was an invitation to engage us in wine conversation. One reason I prefer to enjoy such bottles in the privacy of my own home rather than take them to BYOB restaurants.
I did discover an inexpensive but very nice little non-vintage champagne recently. Since traffic on this blog is so light, I'll happily share it without fear of cutting off my own supply. Hah! Raymond Henriot Brut. There ya go. I'm afraid I can't remember enough specifics to describe it, but it really grabbed attention in the midst of a group of both similarly and somewhat higher priced bottles (it goes for around $20, I believe). Good stuff.
After this week, though, I'm going to cut back on the bubbly for a bit. It happens every year. Bubble burn-out. Time for some concentration on those big, heavy reds that always seem to taste their best in the dead of winter with rich, comforting food and a roaring fire. Looking forward to it.
Our last '90 René Engel Clos Vougeot was consumed a few weeks ago with immense enjoyment, long sighs and smacking of lips. It was, indeed, a treasure. Some say the '90s are still in their infancy, but that's not what I'm finding. My cellar conditions were, admittedly, not so good for several years, but I like fruit in my Burgundy and I'm not so sure I want to trade it all in for those secondary flavors that sometimes come around later and sometimes don't. Anyway, we had no regrets about this bottle, except perhaps for the overbearing waiter who decided that our presenting it to him to open was an invitation to engage us in wine conversation. One reason I prefer to enjoy such bottles in the privacy of my own home rather than take them to BYOB restaurants.
I did discover an inexpensive but very nice little non-vintage champagne recently. Since traffic on this blog is so light, I'll happily share it without fear of cutting off my own supply. Hah! Raymond Henriot Brut. There ya go. I'm afraid I can't remember enough specifics to describe it, but it really grabbed attention in the midst of a group of both similarly and somewhat higher priced bottles (it goes for around $20, I believe). Good stuff.
After this week, though, I'm going to cut back on the bubbly for a bit. It happens every year. Bubble burn-out. Time for some concentration on those big, heavy reds that always seem to taste their best in the dead of winter with rich, comforting food and a roaring fire. Looking forward to it.
Thursday, December 5, 2002
OK, mini-vert: There are a few California cabernets that over the years have been sufficiently accessible, very reasonably priced and still special enough that I made a point of buying a case or half-case every year since the early '90s. In the last few years, I've been forced to drop most of them, usually because the price is no longer quite so "reasonable" (Montelena, Viader, Silver Oak) or because they'll no longer ship to Pennsylvania and so I've been knocked off the mailing list (Togni).
Anderson's Conn Valley Vineyard is the last holdout, probably because the reviews have been little tepid over the past few years, although I'm not sure why. Todd Anderson's wines, at least to me, often aren't so attractive young, which seems to be the sine qua non of "quality" these days (i.e., will a restaurant be able to sell a lot of it at $150 a bottle within a year of its release?) In this case, perhaps not. At a tasting we did in the spring of 2001, the 1997 was already closing down.
I thought it would be interesting to check out those "lesser" vintages of the last decade (plus), so we opened an '89, a '93, a '96 and a '98. With the exception of the '98, which I suspect will also come around, they were surprisingly good. Most unexpectedly, the '89 was still vibrant, with a sassy red fruit zing that reminded me of a Sweet Tart. '89 was generally just a lousy, diluted year in Napa, but I recall Todd saying when we visited the winery a few years later that he was pretty proud of his '89s, which is why we made a point of digging some up.
Anyway, the hit of the night was the '96, which had a definite cedar/cigar box thing happening wrapped in really sweet dark red fruit. I also liked the '93 quite a lot, but it had a little too much of an earthy, roasted nut nuance for some people. All in all, I'd say these wines were delicious but a bit on the simple side. They all lacked the complexity to qualify as first class, but I'm glad to them in my cellar.
The Ruffinos were an entirely different story. The Ducale Oro is Ruffino's top of the line Chianti Classico Riserva. It's another wine that's fallen out of favor in recent years and I wanted to see why. I've had the opportunity to try quite a few of the '85s, '86s and '88s over the years and have always been impressed. At this tasting, we opened the '88, '90, '95 and '97, without question the top vintages of that decade, but none of them showed very well.
Right off the bat, I made a mistake. I had fully intended to taste the Chiantis before the Cabs, but I numbered the bottles wrong (it was a blind tasting) and by the time I realized it, the first flight had been poured. After the rich, lush Cabernets, these wines tasted thin and dull, and it just goes to show how important such choices can be. But, that said, the wines were disappointing. As I said, I've tried the '88 several times before with meals and have always found it too young but promising, with none of the sour, tired flavors it had here.
Which brings up another point. Chiantis, for me, anyway, are food wines. They aren't fun to sip by themselves unless they've been manipulated with lots of new oak and/or excessive ripening for that purpose. So I'm going to reserve my judgment for now and hope that these wines will surprise and delight under better circumstances.
Anderson's Conn Valley Vineyard is the last holdout, probably because the reviews have been little tepid over the past few years, although I'm not sure why. Todd Anderson's wines, at least to me, often aren't so attractive young, which seems to be the sine qua non of "quality" these days (i.e., will a restaurant be able to sell a lot of it at $150 a bottle within a year of its release?) In this case, perhaps not. At a tasting we did in the spring of 2001, the 1997 was already closing down.
I thought it would be interesting to check out those "lesser" vintages of the last decade (plus), so we opened an '89, a '93, a '96 and a '98. With the exception of the '98, which I suspect will also come around, they were surprisingly good. Most unexpectedly, the '89 was still vibrant, with a sassy red fruit zing that reminded me of a Sweet Tart. '89 was generally just a lousy, diluted year in Napa, but I recall Todd saying when we visited the winery a few years later that he was pretty proud of his '89s, which is why we made a point of digging some up.
Anyway, the hit of the night was the '96, which had a definite cedar/cigar box thing happening wrapped in really sweet dark red fruit. I also liked the '93 quite a lot, but it had a little too much of an earthy, roasted nut nuance for some people. All in all, I'd say these wines were delicious but a bit on the simple side. They all lacked the complexity to qualify as first class, but I'm glad to them in my cellar.
The Ruffinos were an entirely different story. The Ducale Oro is Ruffino's top of the line Chianti Classico Riserva. It's another wine that's fallen out of favor in recent years and I wanted to see why. I've had the opportunity to try quite a few of the '85s, '86s and '88s over the years and have always been impressed. At this tasting, we opened the '88, '90, '95 and '97, without question the top vintages of that decade, but none of them showed very well.
Right off the bat, I made a mistake. I had fully intended to taste the Chiantis before the Cabs, but I numbered the bottles wrong (it was a blind tasting) and by the time I realized it, the first flight had been poured. After the rich, lush Cabernets, these wines tasted thin and dull, and it just goes to show how important such choices can be. But, that said, the wines were disappointing. As I said, I've tried the '88 several times before with meals and have always found it too young but promising, with none of the sour, tired flavors it had here.
Which brings up another point. Chiantis, for me, anyway, are food wines. They aren't fun to sip by themselves unless they've been manipulated with lots of new oak and/or excessive ripening for that purpose. So I'm going to reserve my judgment for now and hope that these wines will surprise and delight under better circumstances.
Tuesday, December 3, 2002
I'm accumulating quite a pile of things to post on here, and the problem is I've already forgotten what half of them tasted like. I have written notes to refresh my memory on the mini-vertical tasting I mentioned earlier, so I'm going to put that off just a bit longer.
From the Central California Coast. 1997 Hiching Post Syrah, Rodney's Vineyard. Wow. I've had the luxury of getting to taste these at regular intervals over the past few years and they're really starting to open up. The last one, about a year ago, was too explosively fruity to go well with food. This one was much calmer, still very fruity and really nice with grilled ostrich, which I usually pair with a Pinot from the same area. 1996 Foxen Vineyard Bien Nacido Pinot Noir, also with grilled ostrich, was at its peak. Gorgeous, almost a shame to drink with food but more of a shame not to. From top to bottom, one delightful mouthful after another of soft, pliable red fruit, long, exotic finish, round and mellow and just delicious. Most of the '96s I've opened lately have been thin and weedy and this was a wonderful surprise. And, alas, my last bottle.
From the Rhône Valley. Well, this is the time of the year that I usually start lightening up on the California Pinot and getting back to the Rhône. I was pretty disappointed in the 1989 Jaboulet Aîné Côte Rôtie Les Jumelles, though. It was a pale shadow of what I expected, so much so that I can't say much more than that about it. The 1994 Beaucastel Châteauneuf-du-Pape, on the other hand, was a blockbuster. Not nearly "ready," but loads of fun to drink, especially by comparison to the Les Jumelles, with which we had started the same evening. This one's still not knit together, but its parts are enjoyable as they are. The 1995 La Vieux Donjon was also tight, much less approachable than the '94 we had a few weeks ago, but showing promise. Like I said, my specific memories of these Rhônes are already fuzzy. Impressions for future reference.
Oh. The '86 Montelena. Well, that'll have to wait, too. It's way past my bedtime.
From the Central California Coast. 1997 Hiching Post Syrah, Rodney's Vineyard. Wow. I've had the luxury of getting to taste these at regular intervals over the past few years and they're really starting to open up. The last one, about a year ago, was too explosively fruity to go well with food. This one was much calmer, still very fruity and really nice with grilled ostrich, which I usually pair with a Pinot from the same area. 1996 Foxen Vineyard Bien Nacido Pinot Noir, also with grilled ostrich, was at its peak. Gorgeous, almost a shame to drink with food but more of a shame not to. From top to bottom, one delightful mouthful after another of soft, pliable red fruit, long, exotic finish, round and mellow and just delicious. Most of the '96s I've opened lately have been thin and weedy and this was a wonderful surprise. And, alas, my last bottle.
From the Rhône Valley. Well, this is the time of the year that I usually start lightening up on the California Pinot and getting back to the Rhône. I was pretty disappointed in the 1989 Jaboulet Aîné Côte Rôtie Les Jumelles, though. It was a pale shadow of what I expected, so much so that I can't say much more than that about it. The 1994 Beaucastel Châteauneuf-du-Pape, on the other hand, was a blockbuster. Not nearly "ready," but loads of fun to drink, especially by comparison to the Les Jumelles, with which we had started the same evening. This one's still not knit together, but its parts are enjoyable as they are. The 1995 La Vieux Donjon was also tight, much less approachable than the '94 we had a few weeks ago, but showing promise. Like I said, my specific memories of these Rhônes are already fuzzy. Impressions for future reference.
Oh. The '86 Montelena. Well, that'll have to wait, too. It's way past my bedtime.
Saturday, November 23, 2002
Well, this is a first. Two posts in one night. But I just noticed my previous post on the 91 Chave Hermitage. Tried another a few nights ago with a few not-so-great lamb chops. But the wine was a vast improvement over the previous bottle. Much better balance, just a touch of VA, still earthy with a little of the animal fur thing but much more nuanced and very enjoyable.
I have a few more bottles of this stuff and I'll never know what to expect when I open one. Ah, the mysteries of wine. Frankly, this is one of the mysteries I could live without.
I have a few more bottles of this stuff and I'll never know what to expect when I open one. Ah, the mysteries of wine. Frankly, this is one of the mysteries I could live without.
Yeegads! Time flies, doesn't it? My other blog's a time hog. Lame excuse, but it's really the truth.
OK, I need to post on the double mini-vertical tasting I hosted last night (well, Thursday night . . . it's still Friday somewhere). But my writing skills are hampered right now by the lateness of the hour and, yeah, a touch too much alcohol. We cracked a 94 San Vincente Rioja tonight, among other things. Last time I tried it, it was all overblown American oak and no fruit. Well, the fruit woke up and the oak toned down and it's quite a nice drink at the moment. Especially with a nicely grilled rabbit marinated in dijon mustard and fresh rosemary. It went well with the eggplant (also grilled), too.
Mini-vert: four "off" vintages of Anderson's Conn Valley Cab (dyn-o-mite!) and four "on" vintages of Ruffino Chianti Classico Gold Label (I'll post notes -- soon).
OK, I need to post on the double mini-vertical tasting I hosted last night (well, Thursday night . . . it's still Friday somewhere). But my writing skills are hampered right now by the lateness of the hour and, yeah, a touch too much alcohol. We cracked a 94 San Vincente Rioja tonight, among other things. Last time I tried it, it was all overblown American oak and no fruit. Well, the fruit woke up and the oak toned down and it's quite a nice drink at the moment. Especially with a nicely grilled rabbit marinated in dijon mustard and fresh rosemary. It went well with the eggplant (also grilled), too.
Mini-vert: four "off" vintages of Anderson's Conn Valley Cab (dyn-o-mite!) and four "on" vintages of Ruffino Chianti Classico Gold Label (I'll post notes -- soon).
Saturday, October 5, 2002
We've been breaking into our stash of '94 Chateauneufs this week. Last year, I thought they were starting to fade, but it seems they were actually just coming back from a nice, long nap. A few nights ago, the Vieux Telegraphe seemed almost like a pimpley adolescent, young and aluring and just a shade premature. But a very enjoyable bottle nonetheless. I think we'll wait a while before we pop the next one. The Vieux Donjon tonight seemed a shade more approachable. Unlike the VT, this one had loads of sediment at the bottom. But the fruit was equally pure, the finish almost as long and the tannins more resolved. These may last for years, but I've had far too many disappointing experiences lately with wines held too long.
A probable case of over-aging (though it could have been a bad bottle) was our last '95 Au Bon Climat Les Bauges Pinot Noir earlier this week. We bought two of these and included the first one in a tasting a few years ago. It was scrumptious but immature. This one was nothing short of putrid. It was full of sour, vegetal smells and flavors and they just compounded on the finish until I had to go wash out the taste with something strong. What a huge disappointment, as I was expecting big things from this wine. I'm back to suspecting that California Pinots don't age well. Drink them for their young, effusive fruit and enjoy. Especially those from the Central Coast.
But, as always, there's an exception. When the ABC proved undrinkable, we tried our last bottle (alas) of the '93 Lane Tanner Sanford & Benedict. We found a bunch of these on close-out and every one of them has been a true pleasure. Yes, the fruit was a little more profound a year or two ago, but this was still a great bottle of wine. Beautiful, balanced fruit, sublety and nuance. These (LT) wines do age, and very gracefully, at that.
A probable case of over-aging (though it could have been a bad bottle) was our last '95 Au Bon Climat Les Bauges Pinot Noir earlier this week. We bought two of these and included the first one in a tasting a few years ago. It was scrumptious but immature. This one was nothing short of putrid. It was full of sour, vegetal smells and flavors and they just compounded on the finish until I had to go wash out the taste with something strong. What a huge disappointment, as I was expecting big things from this wine. I'm back to suspecting that California Pinots don't age well. Drink them for their young, effusive fruit and enjoy. Especially those from the Central Coast.
But, as always, there's an exception. When the ABC proved undrinkable, we tried our last bottle (alas) of the '93 Lane Tanner Sanford & Benedict. We found a bunch of these on close-out and every one of them has been a true pleasure. Yes, the fruit was a little more profound a year or two ago, but this was still a great bottle of wine. Beautiful, balanced fruit, sublety and nuance. These (LT) wines do age, and very gracefully, at that.
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