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tasting notes

TN: Good sec

[Payral]Daulhiac “Château Le Payral” 2004 Bergerac Sec (Southwest France) – Tastes like sauvignon blanc – green, fresh and zippy – with fine-powder, almost dusty minerality (something in the granite family, it appears) and a dry, but intense, finish. A nice, good value wine. (5/06)

Actually, it’s a blend of sauvignon blanc, sémillon and muscadelle (proportions unknown). This makes two delicious Bergeracs I’ve had this year, both of them fine values. Why don’t I own more of these wines? Alcohol: 12%. Closure: cork. Importer: Violette. Web: http://chateaulepayral.over-blog.com/.

TN: Cosmo

[Cosmic]Clos du Paradis “Domaine Viret” 1999 Côtes-du-Rhône-Villages Saint-Maurice “Cosmic” (Rhône) – Earth – alive and organic – with strips of well-worn leather, sun-dried berries and a dusting of Provençal aromatics (including just a hint of spice), plus resolved tannins. It’s still fairly full-bodied despite the obvious integration of tertiary elements, but with the tannin having softened so much I’d start keeping a close eye on it; for most people it’s probably drinking at or near its best right now.

A blend of grenache, mourvèdre and carignan (rimarily the first of that trio), made in what the importer calls a more oxidative style, by which he means something more upfront and accessible than the rest of Viret’s often highly-structured offerings. However one views the cosmocultural regime behind this wine’s creation, the results have been uniformly successful since release (the “current” vintage, though it’s no longer quite so current, is the 2000). Alcohol: 14%. Closure: cork. Importer: Louis/Dressner/LDM. Web: http://www.domaine-viret.com/.

TN: Vouvray & vin cuit

[Moncontour]Moncontour Vouvray Brut (Loire) – Waxed chalk and the sap from fresh white spring flowers, with a slightly aggressive froth. Tasty, if fairly direct and a little over-weighted.

Domaine Les Bastides Vin Cuit “Selon la Vieille Tradition Provençale” (Provence) – Tart old plum and dried apple with balancing sweetness, minerality inhabiting some mysterious realms between quartz and charcoal, and a smoky, old English drawing room complexity layered over the top of everything. Exotic and delicious.

TN: Not from Bolivia

[romorantin]Gendrier “Domaine des Huards” 2002 Cour-Cheverny (Loire) – Intense to the point of mild shock, though identifying the source of the intensity is less easy; there’s a vivid red apple component that leans into the realm of iron, an oxidative facet that expresses itself more like some sort of fruit-based wax, an ultimately dominant days-gone-by aspect, and a lot of sheer, planar minerality. What does that all add up to? I have no idea, but the wine’s really good. (5/06)

Cour-Cheverny is made from romorantin, a grape that is virtually unknown outside the appellation. (Actually, as far as I know, it is unknown outside the appellation, but I know as soon as I assert that someone will come up with an hectare in Bolivia or something.) I’m assured that these wines age nicely, though to be frank the bad versions are never worth saving, and the good versions are so evocative and unique that they rarely escape my inquisitive corkscrew for very long. Alcohol: 12.5%. Closure: cork. Importer: Jon-David Headrick. Web: http://www.gendrier.com/.

TN: Singing rat

Casa Vinicola “Tayerle” 2005 Vermentino “Troubadour Blanc” (Sonoma Coast) – Kiwifruit and grass, with a touch of Midori liqueur and a lot of fresh, briny and somewhat sticky textural elements. Decent acidity. Ever so slightly heavy, but a rather remarkable achievement in California vermentino.

Vermentino is grown around Italy – Liguria and Tuscany have noteworthy plantings – but the vermentino most people know is from Sardinia; a full-bodied, flavorful companion to lusty fish preparations. (There’s also a Corsican form – in fact, it’s the #1 white grape on Corsica – that’s just one Kermit Lynch-imported wine away from utterly unknown in the States.) This wine was a recommendation by Steve Edmunds of Edmunds St. John, who’s experimenting with his own plantings. Based on these and other results (a lower-key offering from Uvaggio) there’s potential in California for this overlooked grape. Alcohol: 13.2%. Closure: extruded synthetic. Web: http://www.casavinicola.net/.

TN: An (almost) noteless idyll

Sometimes, it’s nice to put away the tasting notes for a while. Wine enjoyment is about many things other than the analytical, and it’s important to remember that (such remembrance is often catalyzed by a good glass of something-or-other). Furthermore, a brief hiatus from notation can help recharge the analytical batteries.

So, with a few days and nights on the Jersey Shore with the family, I managed to taste –well, drink – a dozen (maybe more) wines of which I have nothing other than the most general impressions. There was a pleasant Spanish white blend that included some verdejo, and then a varietal verdejo that carried a rather nasty burnt grass streak. A Prá Soave Classico Superiore was soft but ultimately forgettable, while a Sicilian grillo was full of lusty – if alcoholic – and sun-drenched lemon. There was a rather dramatic Slovenian rebula (a/k/a ribolla gialla), as well; possibly the only wine on which I’d taken a comprehensive tasting note. And quite a few others I’ve forgotten.

On the red side of things, there was less variability, but also less excitement. A Rosso Cònero was full-fruited and tasty, while a corked Taluau 2004 St-Nicholas-de-Bourgueil was followed by another with zippy green fruit; both were better than a too-soft Filliatreau 2004 Saumur-Champigny “La Grande Vignolle.” Others fade into distant memory.

From there, the family festivization moved to Philly. A classically South Philadelphian Italian red sauce joint offered a Fazi Battaglia 2003 Verdicchio dei Castelli di Jesi Classico (you know, the one in the fish-shaped bottle), which was overripe, and a Duca di Salaparuta “Corvo” 2002 Rosso, showing the usual thudding nero d’avola.

(The careful reader will notice that the notes are getting more specific. That’s the aforementioned battery-recharging. I don’t just make these things up, you know.)

Finally, over dinner at a suburban BYO, it was time to once again re-engage those briefly-dormant notation skills and take two wines to task:

Guillemot-Michel 2000 Mâcon-Villages (Mâcon) – Sweet chanterelle and delicate honeydew with a touch of botrytis-like candied apricot. Sweetly-pretty, and prettily off-dry, but surprisingly agile moving from apéritif to table. Lovely right now, though those who want more complexity (and are willing to sacrifice some fruit in the process) will want to keep waiting.

Banti 2000 Morellino di Scansano Riserva “Ciabatta” (Tuscany) – Dying under the weight of its wood, which is a bit surprising as there’s not that much of it. But sangiovese doesn’t always handle wood that well, and here’s an example of what happens: nasty toast and char aromas dominate some rather harsh black fruit. Better at release, pretty unpleasant now.

TN: TCA trifecta

Occasionally, it happens: a bad run of corked wines. This is, if I recall correctly, the third time I’ve hit three in a row. Certainly I’m due some sort of karmic payback at this point. (But if people wonder why I’m so vociferously pro-screwcap…well, here you go…)

Cinquin “Domaine des Braves” 2002 Régnié (Beaujolais) – Corked.

Cinquin “Domaine des Braves” 2002 Régnié (Beaujolais) – 2nd bottle. Corked.

Raymond Quenard 2004 Chignin Mondeuse (Savoie) – Corked.

Producteurs Plaimont “Les Vignes Retrouvées” 2004 Côtes de Saint-Mont (Southwest France) – Fresh-cut melon and dried clay. Simple, direct and pure, not to mention a fine bargain.

TN: Wines from No. 9 Park

Notes from last night’s dinner at Boston’s finest restaurant, with friends and business partners. As usual, the wines were extraordinary.

Aubry Champagne Rosé Brut (Champagne) – Soft but vivid strawberry and raspberry with a deep, throbbing undertone of mushroomy earth; much of the complexity of more aged Champagne is here, but paired with the lovely, elegant fruit of a young rosé. This is absolutely gorgeous.

Villa Bucci 2001 Verdicchio dei Castelli dei Jesi Classico “Riserva” (Marches) – More restrained than a previous bottle, at least at first, with a mélange of airy nuts, seeds and leaves only emerging from the oak’s dampening effect after a good deal of aeration. When they do, the wine shows rich, swirling complexities involving dried stone fruits, lightly-buttered whole wheat toast and freshly-ground grain; all silken-textured and ever-emergent.

Koehly 2001 Riesling Altenberg de Bergheim (Alsace) – At first opening, this is no more than a stiff breeze over corrugated metal sheeting, but in time it expands to show peach, crystalline minerality, a light dusting of coriander, and an even stronger, more steely mineral core with a delicate, non-intrusive sweetness balanced by firm acidity. Long, structured, and quite ageable; a terrific riesling.

Edmunds St. John 2001 Syrah Bassetti Vineyard (San Luis Obispo County) – Less forbidding but no less massive than the last time I tasted it, with exuberant leathery blueberries and a thick coating of mink-like tannin. It’s heavy, to be sure, but it’s structured and possesses a thudding, ponderous balance. All it needs is time, really, but in the meantime, when an aggressive yet food-friendly wine is required, this fits the bill.

Bologna “Braida” 2005 Brachetto d’Acqui (Piedmont) – Easygoing strawberry and red plum froth, with hints and suggestions of graphite powder and a better, more serious structure than this fun and delicious little number probably require. Just hints and suggestions, though; the essential joy of this wine remains intact.

TN: Two from Piedmont

Vitivinicola “Dessilani” 2001 Colline Novaresi Spanna “Riserva” (Piedmont) – Very tight at first. After about a half-hour of air, strong dark fruit and somewhat heady floral notes emerge, with a biting layer of thick (but ripe) tannin that carries a lot of palate impact. Oak plays a supporting role, but it’s definitely noticeable, and ultimately this wine exhibits something of a fight between the traditional and modern styles, but it would seem to have the stuffing to age in either case.

Spanna is nebbiolo, according to local Piedmontese tradition, though the appellation Colline Novaresi is a relatively new invention. This has always been a solid value wine, though as recently as a decade ago it was decidedly more traditional. The introduction of barriques, for which Dessilani exhibits quite a bit of enthusiasm, has obviously changed all that, and while they haven’t yet let the wood get completely away from them in this wine, it’s easier to drink but ultimately less interesting than it was in the past. Alcohol: 12.5%. Closure: cork. Importer: Bedford International. Web: http://www.dessilani.it/.

[Barbera d’Alba Vigna Roreto]Orlando Abrigo 2004 Barbera d’Alba Vigna Roreto (Piedmont) – Raspberry, red cherry and strawberry dressed up in ill-fitting finery and dragged against their will to some ultra-formal event, where they’re completely overwhelmed by their environment. The stink of toasty, caramelized mushrooms and vanilla fills the air as well, though I don’t know if this is from oak or just invasive winemaking. Worse, there’s nary an indication that this wine ever had much acid, which would seem to be a tragedy for a barbera, and while it’s perfectly acceptable as an anonymous anything-from-anywhere wine, it’s not much use as a barbera d’Alba.

Barbera can handle a certain amount of new wood, as various Californian versions (and even a few of the Piedmontese offerings) have demonstrated, but when it lacks acid, it lacks much purpose. The high-acid versions of yesteryear are almost a memory on international shelves, and that’s a shame, because while traditional barbera was never a cocktail wine, it served a very useful purpose at any table where food was well-acidified by tomatoes: marinara, red-sauce pizza, even a simple caprese. And what fills that gap now? Nothing. All we’ve got is wood, and slick international sheens, and unending oenological tedium. Alcohol: 13.5%. Closure: cork. Importer: Arborway. Web: http://www.orlandoabrigo.it/.

TN: Lothlórien (New Zealand, pt. 22)

[Dart River lagoon]The Road to Isengard

“Daaaaaaa-daaaaaaa-da-da-daaaaaaa…da-da-daaaaaa-da-da-daaaaaa-da-da-daaaaaa…daaa-daaa….” The song enters my head, unbidden, and forces itself all the way to the tip of my tongue. Only a tremendous force of will keeps me silent. I glance at Theresa, and she at me, the simultaneous repression evident on both our faces. We grin, then burst into in the grandiose theme music from The Lord of the Rings, managing a few bombastically off-key measures before dissolving into fits of hysterical laughter.

We’d been warned. Twisty, at times precarious, and almost impossibly scenic, the Queenstown-Glenorchy road carries extra baggage these days; a rather striking portion of Peter Jackson’s magnum opus was filmed in this area. Worse, this is a fact immediately obvious to even the most casual observer; every expansive vista and secluded hollow is eerily familiar. I say “worse” because the aforementioned impossible scenery scarcely needs another way to distract the unwary driver from the task at hand. The road describes a long series of irregular swivels, hugging the rocky shores of Lake Wakatipu, then rising far above the water into steep, tree-covered slopes before plunging lakeward once again. After a sharp northern turn, the trees fade to be replaced by the smooth, grassy slopes of the Richardson Mountains, rising up several thousand meters to meet a cold, grey sky.

“It’s distracting,” the locals advise. “You’ll want to pay attention to the road.” I’m learning how right they are. Especially with my wife sitting next to me, now quietly humming a different theme from the movie. I shrug, capitulate and join her.

The Great River

I’m not sure if it would be uncharitable to describe Glenorchy as a frontier-town exurb of Queenstown, but as it doesn’t appear that a resident can survive without frequent trips to the markets of the bigger “city,” I think the characterization is accurate. But what Glenorchy lacks in infrastructure – though it is not without businesses, though most seem oriented towards the feeding, watering, and bedding of tourists – it makes up for in sheer enticement. It is, in one sense, the end of the road (the paved road, at any rate) that brings one to Queenstown, and it perches tantalizingly close to the end of the Milford Sound access road. Close, that is, but not touching; it is emblematic of the modern New Zealand symbiosis between commerce and environmentalism that the twenty-mile bridge, road, and tunnel system that would make the Queenstown-Milford journey a quick hour and a half (rather than at least four) remains unbuilt, and is likely remain so. Any other country would probably do it in a heartbeat, but not this one. Convenience would be…well, convenient, but it would be a tragic shame to spoil the remote beauty of this location.

As for us, we’re in Glenorchy for another of those seamlessly integrated tourist experiences that New Zealand seems to have perfected, wherein multiple modes of transportation are woven into a tapestry of activities that accommodate all levels of interest, adventurousness and athleticism. After our long, emotionally overwhelming day at Doubtful Sound, we’re up for no more than a half day’s excitement, and so after a early (and chilly) lunch under grey and gloomy skies, we make our way through Glenorchy’s few but well-ordered streets to the headquarters of Dart River Safaris.

Elsewhere in the region, jet boating is an activity built around speed and implied danger. Boats on the Shotover and Kawarau Rivers spin and skid at shocking speed, clattering over rocks in four inch-deep water and narrowly careening under low-hanging branches and away from razor-sharp shoreline cliffs. Here on the Dart River, it’s less about adrenaline and more about sightseeing. To be sure, there are face-soaking spins and perilous near-misses of both rock and branch, but the epic hour-and-a-half ride gives both speedy and still opportunities to gaze at the incredible scenery. The river itself is barely up to the name: a few meandering rivulets of churning turquoise glacial runoff over rocks and sand – certainly not deep enough for anything except these shallow-hulled speedsters – but the valley it describes cuts a deep and dramatic angle between the Richardson and Humboldt Mountains, and high riverbanks show that, during the springtime runoff, the aquatic story must be a very different one.

It’s early autumn right now, however, and it’s cold. We bundle up, take our seats, and with a ear-piercing roar head due north, into the teeth of the wind. Our driver stops, periodically and usually after one of those trademark jet boat spins has soaked us all in icy droplets, to point out some key feature of the landscape. Half of them are purely geographic, but the other half are – inevitably – somehow related to The Lord of the Rings.

“See that hillside there? That’s the backdrop for Isengard.”

“Remember when the Ents attacked Orthanc? That’s the edge of Fangorn right there.”

“That really pointy mountain…the one with all the snow on it…that’s Zirak-Zigil, where Gandalf smoked the Balrog.”

I can’t help but feel momentarily sorry for those on the boat who have no idea what he’s talking about. That said, of all the phrases I never expected to hear outside the confines of a fetid, acne-infested basement game of Dungeons & Dragons, “smoked the Balrog” must be very near the top of the list. In my mind, I see the opening to The Two Towers, and – digital creatures aside – it is in fact exactly as he describes it. Years ago, pulling into the Grand Canal of Venice, I’d felt like I was in the midst of an elaborate and impossible movie set. Here, I have that feeling again…except that it is the entire country that is the set.

The music wells up once again. Thankfully, no one else can hear me humming over the roar of the boat’s engines.

The Old Forest

We continue our race upriver, the snow-draped peaks of the eastern and western ranges looming ever closer, occasionally stopping for a brief and slow-paced detour into some crystalline-emerald pool away from the bubbling froth of the river, to simply enjoy the (relative) silence. Near the end of the trip, however, disaster strikes…or rather, it strikes our companion boat, which gets stuck on a midstream rock. Their driver jumps into the frigid waters in attempt to dislodge the vessel. No luck. Some negotiation ensues, and soon several passengers have joined him in an attempt to move the boat, which eventually succeeds. I wonder what level of compensation would be required to get me into that water, and fervently pray that I won’t have to find out. I do ask our driver what happens in situations like this.

(Continued here, with an extensive photo essay from the Dart River…)