Browse Month

February 2008

Rimu shot

[grape/net close-up]A grape by any other name

Those of us who write about wine for a living know the problem all too well. The eager face of a press agent, or an owner, or (in the worst case) a winemaker, shines down upon us as they ask The Question. “So, what do you think of the wines?”

It’s a sad but true fact that the best producers never, ever ask. They don’t need to. They know…and even if they don’t, they’re confident enough in their work to let it stand or fall on its own merits. And so, the verbalized desire for an on-the-spot assessment is left to those whose wines are, invariably, lacking in some fashion. At which point, the writer must make a choice.

The most indifferent and the most brutally honest will say whatever they think, without mitigation. This is, I suppose, the most ethically defensible position, but it’s not much fun for anyone. Even aside from the issue of saying hurtful things about a person’s passions, the conversation that follows almost always turns into an increasingly useless argument wherein the winery representative claims, “oh, but Bob Smith gave it a gold star,” while the writer is forced to defend some grand notion of subjectivity. Of course, running off to one’s publication of choice with a previously-unspoken truth is, viewed uncharitably, a little bit cowardly. But it does help avoid those really unpleasant personal moments, and that’s why most choose to do it.

In the interim, however, something has to be said. An answer must be delivered, whether or not it satisfies. And so the clever writer will learn how to speak emptiness with eloquence. If it works well enough, everyone’s happy, and the conversation proceeds apace.

But sometimes, it doesn’t work. The writer knows it. The winemaker knows it. Each hapless attempt to avoid the truth is like a little drop of poison, slowly numbing and then, finally, killing the conversation and any connection that might have developed. It’s a slow, mealy-mouthed decline into morbidity. I’ve invented a word for it, and while subsequent research shows that I’m not the first to use the word, I might be the first to define it in this fashion.

Euphemasia. Noun. Elective conversational death by euphemism.

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Rimu vyor hand

[rimu grove]Rimu Grove 2002 Pinot Noir (Nelson) – Medium-soft dried cherry, strawberry, and plum. Lightly tannic, with high acidity. The finish is seedy, and re-softens after the brief structural insurrection on the midpalate. (3/05)

Rimu Grove 2004 Pinot Noir (barrel sample) (Nelson) – One year from release. Sweet vanilla, chocolate liqueur, ripe boysenberry, dark cherry, and plum skin. Oh, and mixed nuts. This is a heavy wine showing a lot of wood-influenced fetal fat, but there’s great acidity, and the finish is long and ascending. There’s even a stony undertone. Promising, as long as it handles that oak. (3/05)

Rimu & Zooty

Rimu Grove 2002 Chardonnay (Nelson) – 100% barrel fermented, whole-bunch pressed. Dense with spice (especially cinnamon) and semi-rich. Long and intense, but not showing much fruit at the moment; mostly, what one tastes is what’s been done to the fruit after harvest. It’s showing signs of mellowing, but it’s not there yet, and my belief is that the intensity of the winemaking has overwhelmed the fruit, though certainly not in an obscene fashion. (3/05)

Mandela

Rimu Grove 2004 Pinot Gris (Nelson) – Hot. Ripe pear with a sticky consistency. Long. Balanced in the context of a pinot gris pushed to and slightly beyond its limits, but one wishes for a little more acidity and a lot more precision. I don’t think this will have a long life, but it’s pleasant in the near term. (3/05)

Rimu Grove 2004 Pinot Gris (Nelson) – Take two, this time with dinner. Sweaty and salty, with funky banana oil and rotten pear aromatics. Dried apricot, too. It’s more varietally typical with food, which is welcome, but nonetheless it comes off more like some sort of mediocre, teenaged chardonnay than a true pinot gris. Where’s the fresh, spicy pear? Alternatively, where’s the lightly fruity fennel note? And is there any acidity to be had? I just don’t think this wine is getting it done, and in comparison to the luncheon leftovers of a Peregrine Pinot Gris, it tastes and feels rather clumsy. (3/05)

Andy

Rimu Grove 2003 Pinot Gris “Vendange Tardive” (Nelson) – Pear and burnt caramel. Soft. Balanced between sugar and acidity, but just not very interesting. For too many producers, “late harvest” only means excessive residual sugar, while the wines that actually deserve the label deliver more than elevated brix. (3/05)

Young Turck

[trilingual sign]31 March 2006 – Lapoutroie, France

A post-Trimbach stroll around Ribeauvillé is a walk around the familiar, so we head south and then upwards via the road that snakes past Kaysersberg. It’s striking how quickly the architecture changes, from the colorful half-timbers of the vineyards to plainer, more traditionally alpine tones at higher elevations. The temperature deviations are interesting as well: 63°F in Kaysersberg becomes 68° in decidedly mountainous Lapoutroie, then drops to 51° in the midst of the still-snowy Vosges. We take a few moments to appreciate the beauty of Lacs Blanc & Noir, but the chill wind eventually drives us back down to the wine route.

Turckheim – In the imposing shelter of the Brand is one of the prettiest among Alsace’s excess of gorgeous villages. Turckheim is surrounded by a wall, and thus the town seems packed into every available nook and cranny, with the haphazard streets and lines of a community that – at least in part – escaped the complete destruction wrought on so much of this region by two world wars’ worth of bombing.

Ammerschwihr – The same, unfortunately, cannot be said for this village, which – aside from a wall here or a tower there – seems largely reconstructed. But it we’ve done plenty of sightseeing today, it’s getting dark, and we’re not really here to walk around anyway. We’re here to eat.

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Rip

[label]Van Winkle “Special Reserve” Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey 12 Years Old “Lot B” (Kentucky) – Stone fruit and sweet wood with some burn; this is more aggressive than many in its category, with an edge that I’m moved to call bitter. I like it, then I don’t, then I’m not sure. I suppose that’s a positive note. (2/08)

Turn your head and Keafferkopf

Kuehn 1999 Kaefferkopf (Alsace) – Quite off-dry, dominated by rich spice and density, but with improved clarity and focus on the finish. Ripe and somewhat sweet apples make an ultimately futile effort at counterbalance. Unfortunately, its presence and weight render it somewhat clumsy with food, but it’s fine as a sipping wine. (3/06)

Miclo, boldhi

[stills]G. Miclo Gentiane Eau de Vie (Alsace) – Made from gentian root, a traditional element of bitters that also shows up in the now-cultish soft drink Moxie. It’s full of slate and a harsh metallic edge not unlike that of raw turmeric, with a sharpness that I don’t care for. (3/06)

Beaucastels in the sky

Perrin “Château de Beaucastel” 1996 Châteauneuf-du-Pape (Rhône) – Coming out of its difficult phase, but only just, and as such it’s somewhat evasive. The meat-smoke, bacon liqueur elements are only teasingly in place, there’s a strong but backgrounded residue of dried plum, and the minerality at the core is left rather bare and exposed by the wine’s reluctance to rise from its sleep. As such, the structure dominates. This needs some more waiting. (2/08)