Browse Month

July 2006

TN: Like pearls before frogs (Oregon, pt. 1)

[old warehouse]

The writing’s on the wall

12 July 2006 – Portland, Oregon

Portland is a highly walkable city, relatively compact and easily-navigable, though one without many “sights” as such; most of what’s here can be experienced in a few days of decent weather. On the other hand, it has its unquestioned charms: a burgeoning restaurant scene, genial residents, good coffee, great beer, and one of the most amazing bookstores I’ve ever seen: Powell’s City of Books. It’s true literary heaven, and some might be inclined to never leave its confines. Otherwise, the city has a sort of funky, post-collegiate vibe that subverts even its most corporate neighborhoods. Though it’s hard to judge after a single visit, I suspect Portland might be one of those urban rarities: a better place to live than to visit.

The Governor Hotel – Charm and history vie with semi-modern amenities and odd discontinuities here; this is a hotel that can’t quite figure out what it wants to be. The layout is confusing, the rooms are spacious but a bit haphazard, and the bathrooms are full of unique fixtures surrounded by tile in desperate need of updating. It’s a good hotel, but it’s not a great one, and the prices suggest designs on the latter designation. The fake fireplace is a nice touch, though.

Pearl Bakery – Just the thing for a small, late lunch…though the focus here is really the bread, not what they do with it. A Black Forest ham & fontina sandwich is dominated by the wheat levain that surrounds it, but still succeeds on the quality of its ingredients, while Theresa’s chèvre & tapenade on demi-baguette is better-balanced (mostly due to the intensity of the Kalamatas). The coffee is most commendable, with a rich, dark, but smooth roast that recalls the best of New Zealand.

Thomas Kemper Root Beer (Seattle) – A blend of herbs and dark, sweet fruit from this Washington state soda producer that’s less aggressive than many such concoctions, but with a balance and a creaminess that really stand out.

[Pearl District fence]

First you accomplish paint fence

Fenouil – After much dithering over where I’m going to eat as a solo diner (Theresa’s got pre-conference schmoozing to do), I choose this classy French outpost on the Pearl District’s Jamison Square. The interior is sweeping and elegant, but the weather is stunning, and so there’s no question of sitting anywhere other than outside.

My initial waiter, however, leaves a bit to be desired. He’s French, and extravagantly corrects the pronunciation of the first three things I say (at least two of which were correctly-pronounced, just not with the regional variant accent he obviously prefers). Not a good start to the evening. Thankfully, he’s soon replaced by someone much better, a sparkling – and, it has to be said, very attractive – Chicago transplant with a real passion for wine. She’s much more fun…and if she’s similarly appalled by my French, she wisely keeps it to herself.

The restaurant’s take on cuisses de grenouilles – delicately fried, and served with a garlic/lemon sauce that effortlessly overpowers the typically taste-free meat – is solid, though I’m once more reminded why I tend not to order frogs’ legs: there’s just not much to them. On the other hand, what follows is a dish that is, quite literally, perfect: gnocchi with morels and cheese, given slight respite from its density by some unidentifiable acid (perhaps accompanying the morels?) and a final grace note of crunchy sea salt. It’s a stunning dish.

Argyle 2003 Brut Rosé (Willamette Valley) – Full and flavorful, with bouncy, energetic strawberries and a touch of potpourri layered over deeper, richer, earthier pinot notes; this is wine more than it’s sparkling, and is unquestionably the better for it.

Prunier 1998 Auxey-Duresses (Burgundy) – Just barely on the downslope, though it fights its decline all night. As with many mature Burgundies, it benefits from aeration, which seems counter-intuitive for such light, delicate wines, and yet time and time again proves to be true. The slightly hard edges of the initial presentation never quite fade, but they’re soon joined by gently-decaying red apple, red cherry and autumn leaves. Later, a hint of a mushroomy funk emerges, then retreats…after which the tannin begins to dominate the palate. For about ninety minutes, however, it’s a lovely wine; an elusive breeze caught, but never quite captured.

Dupleich “Château de Juge” 1996 Cadillac (Bordeaux) – Pine cone and coconut with bitter almond and a teasing, flirty sweetness. Delightful, if lighter than one might expect, and definitely not carrying the burden of heavy woodspice that weighs down so many of its sweet Bordelais compatriots.

TN: Bucci ball

Bucci 2004 Verdicchio dei Castelli di Jesi Classico “Superiore” (Marches) – Fresh but intense pale citrus and seawater, kelp, mountain flowers and black licorice. A fascinating and complex wine, and a terrific bargain as well. (7/06)

100% verdicchio. Bucci’s straight-ahead verdicchio has every reason to be a disappointment next to its majestic riserva bottling, and yet it’s not. There’s terrific fruit at work here, with winemaking that allows it to express itself (and its site). Yet another counter-argument to those who claim that Italian whites are, in their entirety, dull. Alcohol: 13.5%. Closure: cork. Importer: Empson. Web: http://www.villabucci.com/.

TN: The color of memory (New Zealand, pt. 36)

[ostrich]Pigments of our imagination

The colors here are amazing. Water can be mirrored sunlight, the deepest nighttime sapphire, or a bright, sky-reflecting blue…and then the next day, a milky, luminescent turquoise. Sunsets are particularly exciting: brilliants streaks of fire appear and then vanish in the next instant as the sun transitions some distant and unseen peak or trick of the atmosphere…and in the final moments of light that glow over the western ranges, there’s a neon band of lime green. I’ve never seen its like anywhere other than here. Then there are the aptly-named Remarkables, with their bright tans, grays and browns claw-riven with darker greens and blacks, gradually transformed by the movement of light through forbidding blue-brown, rich and warming gold, and brooding dark blue…light and sun-drenched one moment, deeply shadowed the next, their jagged and razor-sharp edges fiercely ripping the heavens but softened by their nightly dusting of powdered sugar snow.

This morning, the palette is muted and gloomy; dark, wintry and urban earth tones subdued by deep blue melancholy from the sky. Queenstown is shrouded in low-hanging clouds that press down upon the sweeping mountain ranges and obliterate contrast, leaving a depressingly narrow chromatic range in their wake. But we don’t care that much, because we’re leaving.

Not for good, though. Just for the day. That is, if the weather cooperates…

Human nature

How do you go back to the place where everything changed…the place where the lens of your world reshaped itself and an unspoiled wilderness of perspectives was revealed in dramatic new light? And if you can point to the place, the day, the hour when all was renewed and reborn, can you ever really return? I asked this question at the beginning of this travelogue…a philosophical musing, perhaps, but also one with a physical answer. For the place was Milford Sound, visited on our previous trip to New Zealand, and that was indeed the exact moment when everything changed.

Nature works its charms in funny ways. I’d grown up in the midst of it, trapped in a pretty but isolated and lake-infested region of northern Minnesota, a manageable four hours from anything one could legitimately call a city but a seemingly infinite distance from the energy of the modern world. The scope of my world was narrow, its boundaries closely defined despite the limitless horizons visible on the endless flatlands around my home. I’d been raised “in the woods,” with its peace and its gentle rhythms all around me…and I desperately wanted out.

I’d leapt at the first opportunity for escape, retreating to urban and urbane Boston and, several decades later, was generally pleased with the choice. What I craved was not so much the pace or intensity of the city, but rather its complexity and its opportunity, the ability to choose from a wider palette of options than would ever have been available to me in my youth, and the energy of the people and institutions that drive the relentless modern hunger for change. In my subsequent travels, I’d soaked up the country and the city in equal measure, pleased by both in the surface way one experiences a place on holiday, occasionally penetrating to the heart of something deeper and more significant, but never losing the viewpoint to which my life had brought me.

Theresa had arrived at essentially the same destination, though by a very different path. A city girl through and through (from a place much bigger and grittier than Boston), she’d expressed a general preference for the quiet peace of the rural on our travels, but was fundamentally at a certain kind of war with nature and its fundamental indifference towards comfort and ease. It wasn’t that she needed any sort of pampering or coddling, but rather that the difficulties of the wild – the physical perils, the biting and stinging creatures, the lack of “facilities” – seemed to physically repel her. (Or, as she sometimes put it after a long day of fighting off stinging insects, maybe nature liked her a little too much.)

But at Milford Sound, New Zealand’s only easily-accessible fiord and one of the truly majestic sites of the world, the parameters of our worldviews came crashing down, replaced by a stunned yet exuberant revelation in the glories of an earthly paradise. We’d been in New Zealand for just a few days, most of them spent in Auckland, on driving tours with friends, wine tasting, or just ambling around Queenstown and its environs, so the long trip to Milford was our first real chance to escape the normal rhythms of a vacation. We’d decided to drive ourselves rather than take an insulating tour bus packed with fellow tourists, and had soaked up the ever-changing and always-breathtaking landscapes and vistas along the way. Barriers began to melt away, and change approached…until that moment on the fiord, when we were quite literally overwhelmed by the unleashed power of nature. We wanted more.

Since that time, our travels had changed. We’d settled into a decidedly non-urban mode of travel, finding (not always sensible) excuses to avoid all but the truly great cities of the world. We’d explored the wilds of our voyages and the wonders of our own backyard. We’d started to take notice of what was all around us…not the conveniences and the artifices and the constructions of man, but the persistent and encompassing warmth of the not-yet-defeated natural world…and found ways to include its richness into our lives. We weren’t ready to give up the opportunities of the city, but we were no longer trying to escape (or battle) its alternative.

Or, as I previously (and much more succinctly) put it thirty-five chapters ago: we’d changed.

Get back

But of course, “going back” is a notion fraught with the danger of disappointment. It is unquestionably true that nothing could ever replace that first moment of awestruck inspiration. What once seemed untouchably beautiful may, with new perspective, seem to have shrunk in both majesty and significance. And…the thought is inevitable…what if we don’t even like it the second time around?

There’s only one way to find out, and despite the still-vivid memories of our recent trip to Doubtful Sound, we endeavor to recreate our previous journey: the long drive from Queenstown, though Te Anau, into Fiordland and…eventually…Milford Sound, with many stops and side-trips along the way. All timed to miss the bulk of the tourists both coming and going, bringing us safely back to our beds as blue-black darkness blankets the mountains and the lake.

However, another danger looms: bad weather. The forecast is, admittedly, dismal. But we’ve had such great luck with the weather – avoiding predicted thundershowers on both Doubtful Sound and the Dart River – that we decide to chance the trip anyway. We’ve seen Milford Sound in the sunlight, but in the rain its waterfalls are reported to be majestic, its mist-wreathed cliffs ethereal. How can we lose? Besides, despite the thick clouds overhead, it’s not actually raining at the moment. In fact, the sun is starting to peek through a few cracks in the dense ceiling, with sharp beams of light falling on distant hillsides and glistening waves. Undoubtedly, the weather will clear and we will have another fantastic day.

Darkness, darkness, be my blanket

By the time we get to Mossburn, we are considerably less optimistic. There are no longer any breaks in the clouds, and in fact everything is decidedly darker…though not as dark as the westward road ahead. Undaunted, we press on.

Twenty kilometers from Te Anau, we’e in the midst of a full-fledged downpour. Timid drivers are pulling off the road at the every opportunity (and I can’t say that I blame them, for the combination of driving rain and gusting wind is more than a little hazardous). We discuss what to do, and decide that as long as the possibility of a break in the weather exists – fronts move fast in this exceedingly narrow country – we will press on.

Te Anau is frigid, blustery (with the expanse of its lake allowing chilly winds to roar down from the snow-capped Kepler and Murchison Mountains), and so rain-soaked that it feels like we’re in, rather than aside, the lake. Merely opening the car door is an effort, and one is immediately rewarded with a soak (and its attendant chill) that penetrates to the marrow. I dash into a tourist office to cancel our cruise reservation, which draws no more than a wry smile from the girl behind the desk.

“Thanks for the thought, but it’s not necessary. The road’s closed.”

“The Homer Tunnel’s flooded?”

She shakes her head. “No. The whole road.”

(Continued here, with more photos…and even some tasting notes…)

TN: Cork Pfalz

[Rhône in winter]Delas Frères 1999 Côtes-du-Rhône “Saint-Esprit” (Rhône Valley) – Mildly corked. A shame, too, as there’s a nice wine lurking in there. (7/06)

Mostly syrah, with some grenache. And ruined by a substandard closure. Alcohol: 12.5%. Closure: cork. Importer: Maisons Marques & Domaines. Web: http://www.delas.com/.

[Pfalz]Vier Jahreszeiten 2004 Dürkheimer Feuerberg Gewürztraminer Kabinett Trocken 055 05 (Pfalz) – Restrained lychee skin, rose petal, and macadamia nut oil with good acidity and the impression (but not the actuality) of sweetness. A light, summery, quaffing-type gewürztraminer…something that’s a lot rarer than one might think. (7/06)

Rightly or wrongly, the Pfalz is often compared to Alsace…so it’s no real surprise that gewürztraminer would do well here. The trick with gewürztraminer is to get it ripe enough to bring out the striking aromatics, but not so ripe that it becomes heavy, alcoholic, and acid-deficient. In these specific pursuits, the Pfalz frequently can and does do as well or better than Alsace. And while the latter remains the premier gewürztraminer region of the world (with Gisborne in New Zealand a possible second), the Pfalz presents a worthy alternative take on this most individualistic of grapes. Alcohol: 12.5%. Closure: cork. Importer: Boston Wine. Web: http://www.vj-wein.de/.

TN: Enophobia (California, pt. 4)

23 April 2006 –Berkeley, California

Wine tasting in Berkeley (con’t)

Sasha Verhage from Eno is the third and final proprietor at this mini-tasting and sale in Berkeley, and while he’s talkative and friendly I immediately get on his bad side for asking about the accuracy of the alcohol level listed on one of his labels (they’re 100% accurate, according to him). Oh well, my fault. As to the aforementioned labels, they’re decidedly different. Pretentious, perhaps, or individualistic and artistic…it depends on one’s state of mind, I suppose, but the cuvée-designated names (each of which appears to have a meaning specific to that wine…won’t they eventually run out of clever things to say?) lend credence to either interpretation. Personally, I suppose I lean towards the former given the other verbiage on the labels (check out the web site), but that might be unfair.

Eno 2003 Pinot Noir Fairview Road Ranch “The Great Promise” (Santa Lucia Highlands) – 14.1%. Slightly synthetic berries are all that can be coaxed from a rather closed nose. The palate is much better, showing lots of graphite, but I like my pinot to have an aroma. At this point, I’m thinking there might be some potential here…after all, this was their first stab at this wine.

Eno 2004 Pinot Noir Fairview Road Ranch “The Gifted One” (Santa Lucia Highlands) – 15.5%. Bigger fruit with a thick, sludgy texture and some clearly noticeable heat on the finish. Not for me.

Eno 2001 Zinfandel Teldeschi “Little Miss Dangerous” (Dry Creek Valley) – 14.9%. Light blueberry infused with mint leaves, and showing a barky finish. Not good at all, and unrecognizable as zin.

Eno 2002 Zinfandel Teldeschi “Caught Red Handed” (Dry Creek Valley) – 16.1%. Notice how the alcohol levels escalate as the wines advance in vintage? Anyway: Fuller-bodied than the 2001, showing big, juicy fruit and raw peanuts, and even a bit of earth. Not too hot, but extremely heavy. This is by far the best wine at the table, but still not anywhere close to a purchase for me.

Eno 2004 Grenache Eaglepoint Ranch “The Wild One” (Mendocino County) – 14.9%, and from a vineyard I usually like. This is high-toned (as grenache often is), showing raspberry syrup and zingy, acidic fruit jelly with just a touch of biting tannin. Maybe 75% of a good wine, but that missing 25% makes all the difference.

Eno 2004 Syrah Las Madres “The Matriarch” (Carneros) – 15.6%. Heavy, ponderous blueberry syrup. More like a dessert topping (minus the yummy sugar) than a wine, really. Maybe as the base for a sauce?

TN: I’d like to bi a valve, Pat (California, pt. 5)

23 April 2006 –Berkeley, California

Vintage Berkeley – A highly “designed” store that could easily fail from an excess of form over function. Thankfully, this isn’t the case. I’ve been sent here by Steve Edmunds for a bottle of Tayerle Vermentino that he finds particularly tasty (Steve has just started growing vermentino himself, and is in a full fit of enthusiasm), but spend some enjoyable browsing time scanning what seems to be a fairly unusual selection of wines…definitely out of the ordinary. One visit won’t reveal whether or not “unusual” equals “good” in this particular case, but if I lived in the area I’d certain take the time to find out.

Peaberry’s Coffee & Tea – I’ve asked a friend to bring me to some coffee “not from a chain,” and he beelines (as much as one can on these hilly streets) here. It seems more Berkeley than Oakland, at least to me, but the coffee’s very good and precisely made…plus it’s nice to not be supporting the merchants of charred beans and sticky, dessert-like “coffee” beverages. More seats would be nice, but this is merely wishful thinking as there’s no room for them. A good locale for those in search of caffeination.

Paul Marcus Wines – Located in the same streetside “mall” as Peaberry’s, and pretty much the opposite of Vintage Berkeley in its crowded clutter of wines. But the selection is excellent, the prices are reasonable, and the staff seems to know their stuff. His eponymousness is in the house, but we don’t speak.

Ferry Plaza Wine Merchant – A good selection somewhat mitigated by about a 50% focus on “name” wines and slightly high prices…which is not at all unexpected given the location. I’m here for the wine bar, which usually has a nice selection of different styles (plus, as I find out on this visit, the ability to open and pour any wine in the store for $6 additional corkage). However, today the selection of by-the-glass wines is heavily tilted towards overfruited, overoaked, and goopy styles in which I’m profoundly uninterested…leaving me with just one semi-palatable choice.

Texier 2003 Côtes-du-Rhône Brézème (Rhône) – Texier’s unusually ageable Brézème often has controversial levels of acidity, so I wonder if the otherwise highly-avoidable 2003 vintage might actually bring this particular element into a less controversial balance. In reality, ’03 does what it does to almost everything else from this region and this vintage: render the wine sludgy and ponderous. It’s big alright, with slightly syrupy blackberries, black truffle oil and a massive palate presence. There’s a bit of earth underneath, but mostly this is heavy, extremely ripe, a bit hot, and low in acidity. In other worlds, it could easily pass for New World syrah…the kind that I don’t much care for. I commend Texier for trying, but…

The Slanted Door – It’s possible that this restaurant has become too successful for its own good. Or maybe that’s just a selfish response, since it takes far too much lead time to get a table these days. One nice alternative is the bar, with a short menu and the full (and always excellent) wine list available via a very accommodating staff.

Of course, the wine lists brings its own problems. Or, more specifically, one overarching one: too many interesting options, such that it can be hard to narrow things down.

Coudert “Clos de la Roilette” 2004 Fleurie (Beaujolais) – Rough, earthy and aromatically difficult, with improved red cherry-based complexities on the palate. It would appear to have a future, but this notion is largely based on the wine’s track record, because it’s exceedingly cranky now.

Roussel & Barrouillet “Clos Roche Blanche” 2004 “Pif” (Loire) – Raw tannin and chunky red fruit gathered in festive little knots…a wine not yet coalescing into a full-blown party. Acidic in its rustic fashion, but pure and utterly delicious. I wish more people made wine like this.

While we’re drinking, we enter into some casual banter with the restaurant’s long-time star wine dude Mark Ellenbogen, who regales us with pre-dinner rush stories of the sublime and the outrageous. My favorite example, from critic Steve Tanzer and directed at winemaker Steve Edmunds: “Don’t you think these syrahs would be better with new wood?” Uh, no.

[Zuni Café]

Zuni rather than later

Zuni Café – The intention is to inhale a few dozen oysters at the Ferry Plaza’s Hog Island Oyster Co., but it’s closed. A brief consultation on where we might find an alternative source for excellent oysters (and a bonus wine list of some repute) leads to an obvious conclusion: Zuni, with its no-reservations bar area. We’re prepared to stand at the bar, but there are open seats in the corner, and so we watch the often bizarre pedestrian activity on its slightly dodgy stretch of Market Street while inhaling a rather shocking number of bivalves and a large dogpile of salty goodness in the form of fried shoestring potatoes with aïoli. Somehow, this coupled with the location and the fine, friendly but casual service feels so classically Californian.

Huet 2004 Vouvray Clos du Bourg Sec (Loire) – It’s still so young, yet it’s strong from first opening and grows throughout the evening as it warms and slowly oxidizes. The wine is a chalky river breeze stirring up already-turbulent soil, revealing mushrooms and dried wax residue in its wake. There’s amazing complexity and stunning length on the finish. An incredible wine barely out of the cradle, but already promising much.

My friend provides a bit of amusement as we’re deciding whether or not to order a digestif. “Is it still light out,” he asks.

I gesture. “Well, we’re surrounded on three sides by floor to ceiling windows, so…”

It appears someone should abstain. Unfortunately, I should join him; my California-produced pear brandy (I don’t get the name, but it’s an eau de vie-style clear beverage) can provide no better than watery, thin, overly sweet insinuations of stale pear.

Disclosure: the glass of Texier at the Ferry Plaza Wine Merchant was provided free of charge.

TN: More days and nights in Vermont

[Kuentz-Bas]Kuentz-Bas 2004 “Alsace” (Alsace) – A mélange of spicy, off-dry stone fruit with some grapefruit-like crispness supporting the whole package. Simple, fun and fruity…and a good value. (7/06)

A blend of Alsatian varieties (which could mean any or all of the following: riesling, pinot gris, gewurztraminer, muscat, pinot blanc, chasselas, auxerrois, sylvaner, and even no-skin-contact pinot noir). Traditionally, this would be called a zwicker…or, if it stuck to the riesling/gewurztraminer/pinot gris/muscat quartet, an edelzwicker…but both names are somewhat debased in the public mind. Its counterparts in the U.S. market would be wines like the Sparr “One” and the Hugel “Gentil,” if you’re interested in comparisons. Alcohol: 12.5%. Closure: cork. Importer: Lynch. Web: http://www.kuentz-bas.fr/.

Alois Lageder “Tòr Löwengang” 2004 Pinot Grigio Benefizium Porer (Alto Adige) – Clean mountain streams cascading through firm pillars of minerality and down a white granite cliff, and exploding in a fine mist over an orchard of ripe Bosc pears. Definitely not mass-market pinot grigio. (7/06)

This, like many of the top pinot grigios from the spectacularly beautiful Alto Adige, is (at least in part) barrel-fermented and/or barrel-aged; 20% or so, according to the data I’ve seen. Oaking pinot gris is rarely a good idea, but virtually every success with the technique that I’ve ever tasted has come from the producers of this region. Why might that be? Intensity of flavor, perhaps, or maybe just a Germanic reluctance to overuse the technique when such varietal purity and site-specificity are in evidence. Alcohol: 13%. Closure: cork. Importer: Lageder/dalla Terra. Web: http://www.lageder.com/.

Trimbach 2001 Gewurztraminer (Alsace) – Solid lychee and crushed quartz with bitter cashew oil and a solid wall of rose petals on the finish. (7/06)

Detractors of gewurztraminer – and there are many – tend to be particularly repelled by drier versions, which exhibit all sorts of odd-for-wine aromas and textural elements; residual sugar can be a nice buffer for these people. On the other hand, there’s nothing strange about gewurztraminer’s aromatics in comparison to, say, a red from the Rhône Valley. In fact, there are similarities: both move asymptotically towards meat-like characteristics with age. Alcohol: 13%. Closure: cork. Importer: Diageo. Web: http://www.maison-trimbach.fr/.

Granger 2002 Juliénas (Beaujolais) – Roses, violets and peach blossoms over a zingy froth of raspberry and strawberry; crisp, pure and engaging. (7/06)

I’ve got three wildly differing notes on this wine…one was cork-affected, one was dark-fruited, and this one is decidedly lighter in aromatic hue. Chalk it up to cork variation, bottle variation, or whatever…but the one thing they all have in common is a strong floral aspect. Terroir? Might be. Alcohol: 13%. Closure: cork. Importer: Rosenthal.

Breton 2004 Morgon “Vieilles Vignes” (Beaujolais) – Looks and smells so light – a burst of summer flowers and red berries – that the persistent growth of the palate, adding both structure and surprising depth to the experience, is a bit shocking. As agile as a dancer, but with the fortitude to persevere for years. Marvelous wine. (7/06)

The importer for this one calls his stable of Beaujolais producers “The Gang of Four,” and they get a lot of media attention. Really, this is a bit dismissive to a lot of other producers doing great work in the regions, but then it’s Kermit Lynch’s business and he can promote it the way he wants. One caveat, though: Breton is one of the low- or no-sulfur-added enthusiasts, and while this may or may not make for a more pristine wine (I think the jury’s still out on that), it does render the wine very susceptible to poor transport or storage conditions. Lynch takes extraordinary measures to protect his wines while they’re under his control, but eventually he sells them to wholesalers, and between there, retailers, restaurants and the public, there’s no telling what could happen. I highly recommend this wine, but be sure it’s purchased from a place you trust to not have baked it at some point in its life. Alcohol: 12.5%. Closure: cork. Importer: Lynch.

Au Bon Climat 2004 Pinot Noir (Santa Barbara County) – Soft red and lavender berries with a gentle, easygoing approach. There’s some brightening acidity, and a cluster of earthy/rocky structural elements tumbling about the wine, but mostly this is about an enticing, fragrant, fruit-forward beverage of both joy and elegance. (7/06)

85% pinot noir, 15% mondeuse. ABC (as people tend to call it) is one of the older guard of pinot producers in this currently very active region. The wines retain a sort of Europhilic nod towards a style that’s not quite in vogue these days, but they’re still unquestionably Californian wines. Still, if you like your West Coast pinot to have some elegance and lightness, ABC is one of the best options. Alcohol: 13.5%. Closure: cork. Web: http://www.aubonclimat.com/.

[Cooper Mountain]Cooper Mountain 2002 Pinot Noir “Reserve” (Willamette Valley) – Corked. (7/06)

It’s a shame: so much attention paid to the biodynamic regimen in the vineyard, careful work in the cellar, and the whole thing is ruined by a few cents’ worth of tree bark. I do hope Cooper Mountain is investigating the alternatives. Alcohol: 12.5%. Biodynamic. Closure: cork. Web: http://www.coopermountainwine.com/.

Porter Creek 2004 Zinfandel “Old Vine” (Sonoma County) – Spicy, dark plums, a bit of black road tar, and reduced blueberry concentrate with a dusting of freshly-cracked black pepper; an intense, powerful wine that nevertheless carries a nice undercurrent of acidity. The wine, for all its force, is fairly round and balanced, promising at least the potential for balanced aging. (7/06)

This is a bit of a hidden gem in the Russian River Valley. It’s tucked away in a beautiful setting away from the major tourist thoroughfares, and probably doesn’t get the respect it deserves…because they make some pretty lovely wines here. Only the loss of one of their key vineyards to Gallo (who, of course, started moving earth around the moment they could get their tractors on it) has kept this winery from moving from strength to strength. Alcohol: 15.1%. Closure: cork. Web: http://www.portercreekvineyards.com/.

[Easton]Easton 2004 Zinfandel (Amador County) – Spicy, slightly untamed dark blueberry and blackberry fruit given a fleeting attempt at polish in the cellar…it pretties things up a bit, but there’s no real way to restrain this much fruit. It’s not overpowering, though it might be a little acid-deficient. (7/06)

Amador zin is an almost perfect evocation of the region: untamed, wild frontier country that has never really advanced into the slick modern age. Which isn’t to say there isn’t slick, modern winemaking to be found, only that the terroir seems to mitigate against it. But whenever a zin reminds me of a skin-scratching slog through a dense underbrush of berry vines, I think Amador. And I’m usually right. Alcohol: 14.5%. Closure: cork. Web: http://www.terrerougewines.com/.

Mustela 2004 Moscato d’Asti (Piedmont) – Fresh, floral and succulently sweet, with that wonderful, fruity lightness that one expects from this wine. Plus, of course, bubbles. Too many moscatos d’Asti seem, these days, to strive overmuch for perfume and power; the wines are much better without such exertions. (7/06)

The difference between Asti Spumante (which means sparkling wine from Asti) and moscato d’Asti (which means muscat from Asti, but also happens to be sparkling) is about as clear as mud to the average consumer, but it’s really a twofold difference. The first – the one actually mandated by legislation – is merely a variation in the allowed range of finished alcohol levels…lower for moscato d’Asti, higher for Asti Spumante. The second is not mandated, but rather subject to the needs of marketing: it is the (probably correct) belief of many producers that the Asti Spumante name has been devalued by a lot of cheap, heavily advertised products. However, it’s important to note that there’s no inherent qualitative difference between the two, and even though moscato d’Asti gets most of the admiring press, there’s plenty of tasty Asti out there as well. Alcohol: 5.5%. Closure: cork. Importer: Arborway.

TN: Summer fun

[Minervois]Julien “Château Villerambert Julien” 2005 Minervois Rosé (Languedoc) – Crushed essence of pure raspberry. Delicious. (7/06)

40% syrah, 30% grenache, 20% carignan, 10% mourvèdre, made via saignée (bleeding of juice from a red wine). Far too many southern French rosés are either flavor-deficient or overly alcoholic (and sometimes both). This, however, is marvelous in both categories. Alcohol: 13.5%. Closure: cork. Importer: Ideal. Web: http://www.villerambert-julien.com/.

[Mirande]Albajan “Domaine de la Mirande” 2004 Coteaux du Languedoc Picpoul de Pinet (Languedoc) – Wet limestone, ripe lemon and green apple. Simple, but tasty if well-chilled. (7/06)

Picpoul is the grape, and this specific appellation is one of the most underrated in all of France. As such, it remains a screaming bargain; though this wine is fine it’s not the best example of the style (instead, look for the Hugues Beaulieu from Cave des Costières de Pomérols imported by Kysela). Alcohol: 13.5%. Closure: cork. Importer: Arborway.

TN: Bucci ball

[Pongelli]Bucci “Pongelli” 2002 Rosso Piceno (Marches) – Rough strawberry and porcini notes with a dusting of grey earth and little flecks of rosemary hanging about. The fruit seems to be approaching maturity, though the structure is still quite firm, and its possible that a few more years will resolve this…or possibly the fruit will dry out before that happens. In either case, this is a nice, traditionally-styled Italian wine for those who are seeking such things. (7/06)

50% sangiovese, 50% montepulciano. This label de-emphasizes the appellation so much that I wonder about the reason. In any case, nothing else about it is out of the ordinary, and while it might not have the quasi-exotic force of some Rosso Piceno, it has plenty to offer both with and without food. Alcohol: 13%. Closure: cork. Importer: Empson. Web: http://www.villabucci.com/.