Go-To-Wine Tuesday
Posted on | May 1, 2012 | Written by Evan LaNouette | No Comments
In celebration of our growing French wine portfolio, I took home a bottle of French Pinot Blanc that had caught my attention– Zind Humbrecht Pinot Blanc 2009. The wine had been in our cellar for a few weeks, but remained largely unnoticed. The majority of our French portfolio is Burgundy (Pinot Noir and Chardonnay), so my guess is this bottle had sadly gone overlooked for being Alsatian. Friday night I wrapped it up in my messenger bag and brought it home for the weekend.
This white wine features 70-percent Auxerrois and 30-percent Pinot Blanc, a mutation of Pinot Noir, Burgundy’s classic red grape, which takes on a grey colored skin once ripened. It lacks the general tannins of red fruit found in Pinot Noir, but it offers a healthy body and a minerality that’s almost like licking wet stone. Plus, it shows a touch of delayed harvest dehydration, or minor noble rot, found in many Alsatian or Germanic wines. The moderate acidity leaves a very natural mouth-feel in the mouth that doesn’t “ping”; rather it massages you cheeks. All of this minerality, acidity and classic Alsatian noble rot gets complemented by floral, smoky, and saline aromas and flavors. Fans of Verdicchio, Le Marche’s primary white grape, will find an interesting convergence in these two varietal wines, both in body and in finish. The Zind Humbrecht Pinot Blanc 2009 makes for an incredibly food-friendly choice with everything from cheese, to salads, to seafood, or even alone. This is the sort of wine to get you started for dinner, enjoy through dinner, and perhaps finish with a second bottle.
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Natural Wines and Other Inflammatory Issues
Posted on | April 30, 2012 | Written by Janice Cable | 2 Comments
The biodynamic vineyard of Castello dei Rampolla
I get it. “Natural” is a slippery term. Even the lyrics to the Carol King-penned, Aretha Franklin-sung standard “You Make Me Feel (Like a Natural Woman)” suggest exactly how fraught the idea of “natural” is (to wit: if you’re a natural woman, do you need someone else to make you feel like one?). Add the idea of naturalness to marketing and you’ve immediately got an incredibly slippery slope, one that “pure,” a kissing cousin to “natural” can easily illustrate. After all, Ivory may be 99% pure, but doesn’t that 1% of impurity cast a doubt on the whole purity enterprise?
In short, it’s hard to define “natural.” And perhaps it’s this very slipperiness as applied to natural wine that Tom Wark of the Fermentation blog has taken to task so repeatedly and so vehemently. Most recently, Wark said this about natural wine:
I fear this one is with us for a long time to come, yet a gimmick it is with no real meaning and, worse, an ideology underscoring it that demands all other wines be denigrated in order for this niche to gain real, honest credibility. We are talking about a marketing term here and very little else. Everything claimed to be spectacular and miraculous and lovely about “natural” wine is very old hat, techniques mastered by many a winemaker over the past 20 years on every continent. Yet, gimmick it is.
I’m someone who grew up in the ‘70s, and thus I have seen “natural” coopted by corporate giants. Nature Valley Granola Bars are hardly no more natural than Herbal Essence shampoo, and yet both products—along with scores of others—were marketed for being natural. I can understand Wark’s incredulity at the concept of a natural wine, especially as he contends that many natural winemakers add sulfites to their wines (many do) and that many indulge in negative marketing of non-natural wines (also true). That said, as a writer who markets wines to wine-lovers, and as a wine-lover myself, I get why natural wines are legitimate, important and different.
Wines, as everyone knows, embody two very specific sites: the vineyard and the cellar. Thus, these two sites play into the naturalness or the artificiality of a wine. I’m going to begin where the wine begins, the vineyard.
Most of the food I eat is organic. I choose organic food because I’d prefer that my body didn’t absorb pesticides, GMOs, and unnatural fertilizers; I also prefer to live on a planet not covered with them. That said, I do buy conventional produce when the produce in question doesn’t absorb as much of the chemicals. I use this list of “the dirty dozen” in choosing my produce (money is a factor); grapes are one of the dozen. Why would I choose my wine any differently? In addition to grapes absorbing pretty much everything that’s sprayed on or around them, grapes aren’t washed before they turn into wine. Maybe it’s merely a mental thing, but I’d like my wine made from grapes that haven’t been sprayed with a host of chemicals that coat the skins and imbue the fruit.
I recognize that certifying organic is a tricky business, especially in other countries. Here in the US, we have not only organic, but California organic, suggesting the play in the lines of regulation. Italy, to take the example I’m most familiar with, has really stringent regulations. You can’t get certified organic (or “bio”) unless everyone whose lands abutting your own also grow organic, and you all go at once to apply for an organic license. On the one hand, this is great because if it’s organic, it’s organic—no water table contamination there. But it’s tough logistically. For example, Il Palazzone grows their grapes organically, but not all of the seven other growers do, so they can’t get certified. It’s easy for Cupano, who is out in the middle of nowhere, but hard for folks whose lands are in the middle of everything.
Fortunately, it’s not so difficult to find out how the wine you’re interested in—or already love—grows their grapes. Most vineyards have websites, and those who grow organically proudly tell you. Like them, when I write marketing copy for IWM, I always specify whether the vineyard grows using organic, biodynamic or non-interventionist protocol. I recognize that there are others like me who consciously choose organic celery, apples, berries, kale and, yes, grapes when they shop.
As squidgy a site as the vineyard is, the cellar is yet more fraught with natural nightmares. For one thing, winemakers often cloak their making in a shroud of mystery. For another, as Alice Feiring, who literally wrote the book on natural wine, has pointed out, there is a plenitude of ways that winemakers can alter, manipulate, add to, or otherwise mess with wine. Take a gander at this list and wonder.
I don’t know about you, but I have a quick, visceral reaction to wines that have been unduly messed with. It’s a searing headache, often accompanied by serious sinus pressure. I’m not certain which of the many chemicals that winemakers add to their wines gives me this somatic fun, but it does make me shy away from wines I haven’t researched. I am, in fact, the woman who will whip out her iPhone and Google an unknown wine before I accept a glass. I dislike headaches, but I also dislike the “purple” taste that often accompanies seriously manipulated wine. It’s a thing, and maybe it’s pretentious, but all things being equal, I like a wine that’s made with minimal crap added to it.
I have—much to my dismay—drunk an unholy amount of Gravner and been totally fine the next day. Gravner does make wine in the most ancient of ways, wine that is natural and vital and unusual and lovely. I have drunk serious amounts of Movia, ridiculous amounts of Paolo Bea, and altogether too much Bodega Chacra. None of them made me hurt, and that means something to me. Wine shouldn’t make you hurt. And that’s one reason why I gravitate toward producers who do employ non-interventionist methods in the cellar.
But as I pointed out gently, and Wark has pointed out more strenuously, the cellar is a place of mystery and intrigue, and it can be hard to really know what goes on in the dark. This is why, again, I try to pick my producers from those who work within ViniVeri guidelines, or those who are pretty explicit about their methods, philosophy and zeitgeist. It’s an imprecise science—more like a guideline than a code—but it works.
As a wine marketing professional, I work to tell our clients how winemakers make their wine. I visit producers. I email them. I ask them questions. And then I relay that information on our website, e-letters and blog posts so that people can make informed choices. At IWM, it’s not that difficult. Sergio holds big love for wines that smack of the places they were born, and those wines tend to be wines that people make in a hands-off kind of way. Our clients want to know where, who, and how, and we like to educate them.
For all of these reasons—personal, professional, and ethical—I don’t see natural wines as a marketing gimmick. Sure, it can happen. But mostly it’s about an informed choice about what we put in our bodies, whom we want to support with our money, and what happens on the earth around us. I know how I make my choices, and when I can, I opt for wine made by people who understand the fragile beauty of nature and who honor it.
UPDATE: Tom Wark has written a lovely response post to this one on his blog. He and I may disagree, but I respect this writer’s thinking and attention, and I do love a healthy, respectful debate.
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Swirl, Sniff and Sip–Defeating the Awkwardness and Making it Count
Posted on | April 26, 2012 | Written by Annie Davis | No Comments
The tasting of wine is called for in many different instances, not just at the rare importer, distributor, or producer tasting. In these scenarios, people usually make use of the spittoon, something that in and of itself takes practice. Spitting the wine after tasting leaves the palate–and the sensibilities–a little more intact than if you were to taste and swallow twenty-five different wines in one afternoon, but devoid of the spittoon, the same exact practices apply when you are tasting a wine after uncorking a bottle at a restaurant or in your own home. A few simple tricks will help you enjoy the wine you drink, wherever and whenever you drink it (regardless of whether you swallow or spit).
These days, wine is chic and more people are learning the wonders of wine exploration; therefore most of the reasoning for the swirl, sniff and sip is common knowledge. I’m still surprised, though, to find that many people see this protocol as snooty. These people will open themselves to the real depths of what wine has to offer when they unbutton and give it go, as awkward as it may feel for them, as it certainly felt for me, the first few times.
Swirl: The actual physical act of swirling wine in a glass does not come naturally, but this is a crucial step. We swirl the wine in the glass to aerate it and vaporize some of the alcohol, thus releasing the height of its aromatics; it’s like a pre-taste. Not only can we discover the aromatic nuances of the wine and of its terroir, but also any improprieties in the wine will make themselves more easily detectible after aeration. The action of the “swirl” seems very unwieldy in the beginning. When you’re first teaching yourself how to taste wine, using the aid of a flat surface on which you can keep the base of the glass as you swirl it in circles is extremely helpful. After a while, you will get a feel for the centrifugal force of a glass’s rotation, and it becomes second nature.
Sniff: Many people may argue that the “sniff” portion, which comes immediately after swirling, is just as essential in understanding a wine as the “sip.” A friend of mine recently (inadvisably) attended a wine tasting while sick with the flu. Bringing the glass to her lips was completely nauseating, but taking in the aroma or bouquet (aroma referring to fresh fruit smells of younger wines, and bouquet referring to the tertiary notes a wine develops with age) of the wines, she realized, seemed more than enough. She stuck around for hours just inhaling over and over again, always finding more secrets the wines had to reveal. When smelling, although it may seem silly, stick your nose deep into the glass to get an unadulterated scent. Go back and swirl again and take another sniff to discover evolution.
Sip: And then comes the actual tasting–clearly an important step. Although there are technically three phases of wine tasting—Attack, Evolution and Finish, all bringing different aspects of the wine to your palate–I don’t think reasons for “sipping” a wine need to be too heavily dictated. I will outline one action, though, that non-wine-drinkers may view as the most inane. It is the sucking of air into one’s mouth while the wine sits there–a second aeration, if you will. Not only does this action aerate the wine, but also it releases the aromas into your mouth, forcing the wine to yield so much more of itself for you to experience and appreciate. Although this air-sucking may make you feel ridiculous, think about this: someone once told me as I was tasting wine and inhaling air through my teeth that it sounded as though a little bird was about to escape from my mouth and flutter away. I now always conjure that little ruby (or crystal white, or deep purple) mockingbird in my mind when tasting wine. Makes it seem much more acceptable, no?
Wines are like needy toddlers–they want you to pay attention and to hear what they have to say. It’s important to indulge them. Tasting wine is a treat and privilege to really cherish, so make it count. Take a leap and let it feel strange at first. You will reap the rewards in the end.
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An Extraordinary Lunch with Stefano Bensa of La Castellada
Posted on | April 25, 2012 | Written by Garrett Kowalsky | No Comments
Last Saturday, Italian Wine Merchants was thrilled to play host to one of the most revered estates in all of Friuli, La Castellada. The event was put together on the spur of the moment, but sometimes that is how the most memorable events in wine and in our lives happen. A winemaker unexpectedly finds his way to New York City, and an opportunity for our devoted clientele to experience his wines first hand is born.
As I sat across from Stefano, his words swirled around in my head as his 2006 Bianco did the same in my glass and all I could think was, “Mission accomplished.” My apologies if I sound like a broken record, but too often Italian whites are dismissed as light, airy and not to be taken seriously. These are the wines that snap you back into attention and demand that you take notice. Yes, you experience the wide array of tropical fruits on the nose that is so common with Friulano, Ribolla, and the like, but these fruits are set against a firm backdrop, courtesy of La Castellada’s use of oak in the aging of the wine (at least one year for each wine) and the balance given by the gorgeous terroir from which the wine comes.
As I placed the Magnum in front of Stefano, a Cheshire-cat-sized grin spread across his face. He was thrilled to share the story of this wine with the attendees. In 1996 sleet had destroyed the crop of all the vineyards in Oslavia (his home town), and nearly destroyed all of their fruit as well. However, there were just a few bunches that survived. It took them three times the usual amount of time to harvest the crop, carefully selecting and locating the grapes that survived and were strong enough to be used. From these grapes, the 1996 Riserva was born. He also shared that he himself only had two or three magnums left of this wine. In a word, the wine was “ethereal,” and any further description would not do it justice.
The Line-Up
2007 La Castellada Friulano
2006 La Castellada Ribolla Gialla
2006 La Castellada Bianco della Castellada
2007 La Castellada Pinot Grigio
2004 La Castellada Rosso della Castellada
2000 La Castellada Rosso della Castellada
1996 La Castellada Bianco della Castellada Riserva
Tags: Friuli wines > Italian whites > La Castellada > Wine Events
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Go-To-Wine Tuesday
Posted on | April 24, 2012 | Written by John Camacho Vidal | No Comments
Although this is a Moscato, there is nothing sweet about this wine. Alto Adige–along with Friuli-Venezia-Giulia (FVG)–produces some of Italy’s finest white wines, made from both native and international grapes. This region formed part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire until 1917, and you will find many Germanic grape varieties here, such as Riesling and Gewurztraminer. The region of Trentino-Alto Adige, Italy’s northernmost region with alpine borders on Austria and Switzerland, benefits from having climate extremes. Part of the area is cold and mountainous, while the other part is Mediterranean-like. Two different geographic areas with primarily different languages spoken, mixed with a blend of cultures, work together to produce incredible unique wine.
The Margreid Moscato Giallo Secco I tasted comes from Nals Margreid, a cooperative of about 100 small growers. The cooperative was formed in 1985 by the merging of The Cellars Nalles (established in 1932) and Magre-Niclara (established in 1954), two well-respected entities, both steeped in tradition. While cooperatives are typical in the Alto Adige (where parcels are often small and at high altitudes in mountainous terrain), this one united some of the best wine growers from the Strada del Vino (wine road) of Alto Adige into something of a “dream team.” Today, 140 growers cultivate a wide range of local varieties in over150 hectares of vineyards for the Nals Margreid Cellar. The wines they produce are representative of the territory, increasingly stylistically defined and technically impeccable—all the result of practicing severe selection in the vineyards.
This bottle was very enjoyable. The wine’s color was pale or light gold, and initially all I got on the nose was stone, flint and clay. With time, I started to get a bit of nutmeg and fresh flowers. The wine is soft on the palate–almost creamy. There is a very slight sweetness that blends really well when the acidity hits. The finish is crisp and tart while the acidity lingers a bit. This is a bone-dry wine that makes a fantastic pre-dinner drink or that would go well with seafood and spicy dishes. I had mine with some Peruvian Ceviche, and it was awesome and a perfect mid-week value wine at under $25.
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Dogeared
April 30th, 2012 @ 5:31 pm
Janice,
Nicely put!
April 30th, 2012 @ 5:32 pm
Lovely of you to say, Tom. I appreciate it.
jec