TN: Grüner or later (California, pt. 8)

(The original version, with nicer formatting and more photos, is here.)

26 April 2006 –San Francisco, California

[burger & wine at Taylor’s]Taylor’s Automatic Refresher – On a gorgeous, pure blue day on the Embarcadero, an outdoor table is too much to resist, and I end up here rather than back for another (expensive) bout with a few dozen oysters. The Wisconsin sourdough burger is, like all Taylor’s products, pure, drippy decadence. Not cheap, but worth it…especially when partaking of the burger joint’s clever little wine list. I cart a half bottle to my outdoor picnic table and feel completely decadent. (Also, later: sunburned.)

Storybrook Mountain 2003 Zinfandel Mayacamas Range (Napa Valley) – Fat and woody, with spiced cedar and huge blackberry fruit. There’s good acid though, and this really works best as simple, sun-drenched fun.

bacar – Packed, which renders service a little slow, and yet it’s good to see this excellent wine bar in fine economic health despite its slightly difficult location. My only complaint – and it’s a minor one – is that, for several years now, the enticing wine list has been rather dominated by blowsy 2003s. I suppose they have to sell through their stock, but I’m looking forward to being able to order Austrian, German, and other higher-acid whites with more confidence that I’m going to enjoy the results.

Nigl 2004 Grüner Veltliner Kremser Freiheit (Kremstal) – This wine undergoes a fascinating transformation from nose to finish. It starts out very salty, while showing classic celery and green, grassy acidity. From there, it proceeds to sweeter melon rind, green kiwifruit and floral aspects. Finally, it finishes almost fat, with orange blossoms, raw cashew oil and hazelnut. Such a procession from light and nervy to full and flavorful is one of the delightful surprises of good grüner, though it’s not usually experienced quite to this extent. It would be nice if the nose were a little more enticing, but I suspect that will come in time, as its center of gravity shifts forward.

Bründlmayer 2004 Grüner Veltliner Kamptaler Terassen (Kamptal) – White pepper, ripe apple blossom and white rice-encrusted apple and green plum form a ripe, vivid whip-snap, albeit one encased in silk. Skin bitterness adds structure and counterbalance to the fruitier aspects, which edges very slightly towards being a bit warmer (that is, more alcoholic) than ideal. That’s nitpicking, though, for this is a very good wine.

Donabaum 2003 Grüner Veltliner Atzberg Smaragd (Wachau) – A ripe, fat nose of rum-soaked banana skin doesn’t improve much on the palate, where alcohol adds a harsh burn. Things are a little better once one becomes accustomed to the heat, and creamy celery and cauliflower with ripe white asparagus steer the wine towards the silkier, more dairy-like aspects of high-test grüner. Still, as the wine fades, one is once more left with that buzzing, numbing alcoholic fire.

Hirsch 2003 Grüner Veltliner Heiligenstein (Kamptal) – A smoky nose full of mineral dust, ripe celery and heavy red cherries precedes a smooth, balanced palate and long finish that provide more of the same. Unfortunately, the wine also carries a throbbing, fiery burn from out-of-balance alcohol.

Revelette 2004 Côteaux d’Aix en Provence Rosé (Provence) – Salty canned fish (not, as it might seem, an inherently bad thing, though it is unusual) and heavy, molten lead with dead, softening wood rotting away in the background. OK, scratch the equivocation about the salted fish; this is pretty much the opposite of “fresh,” which I do believe is a virtual requisite for Provençal rosé. Worse yet: even with all the weirdness, the wine is boring.

Corbières du Boncaillou 1999 Corbières (Languedoc) – Gorgeous aromatics of dried flowers and spice with rustic undertones…but probe deeper, and there’s a smooth granite base with strong, complex striations. There’s a hint of something that tastes very slightly modern, but I’m not sure it’s possible to render Corbières all that urbane without leaving scars. No wounds here.

TN: Mushroom, mushroom (Oregon, pt. 8)

(The original version, with bigger photos, is here.)[vineyard]

14 July 2006 – Willamette Valley, Oregon

Joel Palmer House – For some people, the Willamette Valley isn’t about grapes at all. It’s about mushrooms, which grow wild, and…apparently…in some quantity, or so one must conclude from their ubiquity on local menus. But no one does as much with as many champignons as this restaurant, yet another set in a converted house of considerable charm. Not that we get to enjoy much of that charm, because we sit outside. It’s a beautiful evening; why waste it?

Service is a bit on the quick side, and since we’re ordering the five-course mushroom tasting menu, this rapidity does impact our ability to finish each dish. However, it’s hard to find fault with a restaurant that passes out free glasses of Argyle when one of the managers learns he’s just become an uncle.

Argyle 2001 Brut (Willamette Valley) – Frothy. Tart citrus and more lurid tropical notes dominate a wine playing host to a war between simplicity and goofiness. It’s pleasant, but easily forgotten.

The tasting menu works like this: a diner selects a “main” course from the (already mushroom-dominated, though there are a scant few exceptions) regular menu, while the chef constructs the rest of the meal based on what’s been freshly-foraged. It’s an exciting concept, and we do love mushrooms, so…

Amuse bouche: mushroom risotto. The concentration of mushroom flavor here is almost unfathomable (one presumes mushroom stock of a rare intensity), though this is balanced by a heady dose of piquant parmesan. The risotto is done in the drier American style, in which the rice is a bit softer and the runoff less pronounced. But it’s no less excellent for it.

First course #1: porcini chowder. All the classic elements of pure New England chowder (well, minus the potatoes) are here, with the creamy and sweetly earthy power of porcini in their thick dairy sludge dominating the little counterpoints of corn. Delicious.

[cat]First course #2: mushroom soup (from an old family recipe). Theresa receives this as an alternative to my chowder…and while my dish is nearly flawless, this one is flawless. A beautifully-integrated mélange of flavors literally explodes with every bit of fungal earthiness one can imagine. It’s salty, but not overly so, and I could happily eat bowl after bowl of this. But then, I’d miss out on the rest of the meal. Pure umami, available by the spoonful and growing under a tree near you.

Second course: three-mushroom tart. Simplicity works best here, showing off the quality of a blend of mushrooms that, contrary to many such tarts I’ve had, are not variably overcooked. Perfect.

Third course: baked portobello with gruyere. Decent, but nothing special.

Fourth course: sautéed morels with crisp potato curls. Just when the earthy intensity of the mushrooms – and these are pretty spectacular morels – threatens to overwhelm, these crisp little shreddings of potato liven things up. Sort of a root vegetable intermezzo, if you will.

Fifth course: local (from nearby Carlton) fallow venison served with juniper-infused red cabbage and black trumpet mushrooms. My most disappointing dish, and one I do not care for at all. The problem here is the cabbage; an extremely sour and over-flavored expression that reminds me of an Vienna-style Christmas dish cranked up to eleven (or perhaps about eighteen). It obliterates the mushrooms, and comes very close to muting any positive qualities of the venison as well. What’s the point? Theresa opts for a ’shroom-less rack of lamb with jalapeño cornbread, which is quite nice but very spicy…and also a huge amount of food to appear this late in a tasting menu.

Sixth course: candy cap mushroom ice cream, with caramelized candy caps and candy cap cheesecake, plus a hazelnut/chocolate torte with raspberry sauce. Now, careful readers will note that the five-course tasting menu has, including the amuse bouche, become seven courses comprising nine different dishes. This isn’t a bad thing at all, but given the quantities involved it’s worth noting. More importantly, this is an incredible dish, utilizing the natural, maple-like sweetness of this rather unique mushroom to stunning effect. The non-mushroom torte is awfully nice as well, with a better balance between the nuts and the chocolate than such concoctions usually possess, and showing admirable restraint with the sauce.

All of this is paired with a selection from a very long wine list, jammed with local specialties (and, of course, very heavy on the pinot noir, which can and does excel with the mushroom-dominated cuisine) and littered with mini-verticals. However, the markups range from large to huge, and there’s very little that comes with a “name” or an appealing number of years in bottle to be had for less than three digits. It’s not that there’s a lack of bottlings at more reasonable prices, it’s just that with a list like this, one hopes to be able to drink something not currently (and widely) commercially available without sending the tariff into the Michelin-starred range. We have a long, friendly, but ultimately frustrating dialogue with a waiter who presents himself as the wine guy for the evening, though he seems unable to find something to our tastes (all his suggestions are way, way above our oak/extraction thresholds) without several consultative trips to the kitchen…and even then, his suggestions are not really what we’re looking for. Lacking expert local guidance, we turn to a bulkier variation on an old friend.

[vulture]Domaine Coteau 2002 Pinot Noir “Reserve” (Yamhill County) – Solid, with dark fruit and black, post-forest fire undergrowth. A dense, muscular structure surrounds the brooding fruit, and there’s incredible aging potential here. Right now, however, it’s all a bit much to take, and requires aggressive food to keep it in check.

Coffee is weak…not that it much matters, because we’re stuffed to the gills. I take a flyer on a glass of dessert wine, though in the end I wish I’d not bothered.

Sineann 2002 Riesling Medici (Willamette Valley) – The restaurant’s wine list calls this “late harvest,” but I can find no evidence that such a wine exists in the Sineann portfolio, leaving this as the only identifiable alternative. Anyway, it’s out of balance, showing sweet lime, lemon and green grape with spiky acid that’s completely unable to beat back a thick, goopy sludge. Those for whom intensity is the only worthwhile virtue in wine will find this exemplary. But it’s not good. It’s not good at all.

The final verdict on the Joel Palmer House is this: the chef has a clear specialty, and like many other such chefs can appear to lose interest in dishes that don’t fit the theme. Almost any dish with mushrooms will be somewhere between good and extraordinary, while other dishes are decidedly more variable. And the salt-averse will want to be wary here. However, the relentless brilliance of the majority of the mushroom dishes makes this one of those meals that surpasses its objective quality, making it truly memorable. That’s something that even many of the best restaurants in the world can’t say, and something to be cherished.

TN: The end of the reign (New Zealand, pt. 37)

[Queenstown overlook]All good things…

Our last day in Queenstown. Can it be?

In a sense, travel is a series of goodbyes. A new destination is achieved, then abandoned. Just as a certain comfort is acquired – with the geography, with the sights, with the rhythms, and with the quirks and individualities that make up culture – it’s back in the car (or train, or plane) and on to the next place with little more than a fond thought. There’ll be plenty of time for nostalgia afterwards, when each destination has become not a thing to experience, but a memory to recapture.

This is why the notion of “settling in” is so dangerously seductive. Bags are fully unpacked, belongings are given a home, and accessories (often in the form of groceries) multiply and take their own respective places. The regularities of everyday life intrude on the abandon of travel…a morning cup of coffee, a post-dinner cleanup, the number of days that can pass before the laundry simply must be done…and lend their normalcy to the experience-rich environment of elsewhere. And in turn, experiences are that much the greater for the familiarity of their context.

But when it’s finally time to say goodbye, there’s a price to be paid. The passing melancholy of moving on becomes more wrenching, more poignant. Familiar sights and paths are revisited, suffused with longing for that one perfect memory. And then drawers and cabinets are emptied, bags are packed, and one’s life is once more contained within the boundaries of a suitcase. It is, inevitably, a diminishment, and it carries with it the potential for great sadness amidst the satisfaction of a destination well-lived.

Cuppa Joe

Another interesting experience allowed by a long visit is the chance to become (however temporarily) a “regular” at a local haunt. And though I wish I’d made the connection earlier in our visit, one location almost immediately suggests itself: Joe’s Garage.

The staff – already unnaturally attractive, despite the occasional brooding – is today joined by one of those people at which I just can’t stop staring. She’s beautiful, yes, but with that extra and individual something that speaks to my subconscious. I sip a series of flawless flat whites, feeling a mixture of attraction and mild guilt (it doesn’t help that she frequently meets my glances, smiling each time), and then Theresa arrives…fresh from the spa…to rescue me from my imagined but disquieting psychic infidelity. Some encounters are better off left to the imagination.

Hanging out

Warmed by milk-infused caffeine, we’re protected against rising winds that buffet the waters of Lake Wakatipu into frothing whitecaps. It’s not exactly cold on our decidedly non-aerodynamic little boat, but the forecast suggests that it will be. As the girl at the ticket booth cautions, “gotta sail now, ‘cause the weather’s turning to shit.” And thus, if Theresa wants to dangle from a big cloth, she’s going to have to do it immediately.

Or perhaps I should back up a bit.

(Continued here, with tasting notes included…)

TN: A silent confrontation (California, pt. 7)

[cable car in Chinatown]

Send me a cable

25 April 2006 –San Francisco, California

Ocean Pearl (781 Broadway) – This is a dive in every imaginable way, with tilting tables and leaking teacups (not that it much matters, because the tea is lousy). Potstickers are constructed and served like spring rolls – a new experience for me, and one I don’t think is to their gustatory benefit – and salt & pepper squid have good flavor but are overly doughy. On the other hand, a plate of spicy jellyfish is simple and tasty. Everything here is dirt-cheap, and I suppose you get what you pay for. English is barely spoken, and not well-understood either.

VinoVenue – A “concept” that seems to have spread to a lot of places, wherein one buys a sort of debit card and inserts it into machines that dispense tastes of wine. They’re tiny tastes, and something about this whole venture strikes me as profoundly antisocial, but there is an actual bar at one end, with seats and a real live bartender. Plus, proximity to the Moscone Center can’t hurt business.

The wines – several dozen of them – are categorized, albeit haphazardly, into general substations based on color, region, variety, obscurity, and price. And the per-taste prices are just uneven enough that one will inevitably be left with insufficient funds at the end of a tasting session…which is no doubt designed to encourage “recharging” of one’s debit card.

Cullen 2003 “Ephraim Clarke” (Margaret River) – A sauvignon blanc/semillon blend. There’s sweat-covered grass and good acid up front – this attack is being led almost exclusively by the semillon – and a thick, long finish that’s full and luscious in a highly floral way. If there’s a criticism, it’s that everything ends on the goopy side. But it’s a pretty good wine nonetheless.

Coyne 2002 Grenache “Old Vines” (Lodi) – Confected bubblegum, dill-infused blueberry syrup, and toast with wood-flavored jam. Blech.

Stonecutter 2003 Pinot Noir (Martinborough) – Soft plum, tomato (perhaps tamarillo would be more accurate, though there’s no citrus), and golden beet with good acidity and a long, spicy finish that, eventually, turns vegetal and sour. This is just an odd wine.

Hochar 1995 Musar (Bekaa Valley) – Well-spiced earth of terrific complexity, paired with mixed peppercorns and a stunning black truffle core. Delicious, elegant, and certainly ready to drink…though I don’t think holding it will do any damage either.

Havens 2002 “Black & Blue” (Napa Valley) – A cabernet sauvignon/syrah blend, and dreadfully, painfully corked.

It’s this final wine that assures I will never return to VinoVenue. That the wine is corked is immediately obvious…the fruit isn’t just obscured, it’s buried in a thick, moldy reek. I bring my glass to the clerk at the front desk, who shrugs and directs me to one of the bartenders. I hand him my glass.

[street & Coit Tower]

The white tower

“I think this is corked.”

He waves the glass in the general direction of his nose for far less than a second. “Nope.”

I frown. “I’m sure it is. It smells like it, and there’s absolutely no other aromas.”

He shakes his head.

This is getting nowhere. So, I attempt a bargain. “Look, the wine’s almost empty at the dispenser. Open another one, we’ll compare the two, and if I’m wrong, I’m wrong. If I’m right, though, I think you should credit the taste.”

He simply turns away. No further conversation is invited.

A few minutes later, as I’m pondering whether or not to escalate my complaint, the bartender reappears, a toothy grin that looks like more of a skull’s grimace pasted on his face. He’s carrying a glass. “This is what a corked wine smells like,” he says, presenting the liquid.

I sniff. He’s not wrong. But the Havens is far more deadened than this wine. At this point, I’m irritated, and say so. “It is corked. But it’s not as corked as the Havens. I do know how to identify corked wines. So are you going to replace it, or not?” For the second time, he just turns away. Apparently, non-confrontation is the service standard here.

Not that I’ll ever find out. Because I won’t be back.

Slanted Door – In need of a restorative (or perhaps purgative) wine experience, but with limited time before dinner, I power walk to the Embarcadero, in search of a wine bar that I know won’t ever let me down. And it doesn’t, as a grab the last seat in a restaurant that’s already getting very, very busy with early diners.

Prudhon 2001 St-Aubin “1er Cru” “Sur le Sentier du Clou” (Burgundy) – Lovely and elegant, with earth-flecked loam and lurking raspberry. The wine’s a bit of a structural chameleon, with good acid and tannin up front, a quick, sun-drenched brightening, then the emergence of a deeper, basso undertone, before finally softening once more on the finish. Air tightens the wine. It’s good now, but after a disappointing stage as it closes down it’s likely to be very pretty at full maturity.

[Italian products]

Where’s the prazhoot?

Delfina – It’s time to try another of San Francisco’s small Cal-Ital meccas (is that a horribly cross-cultural descriptor, or what?), and the Mission’s Delfina is next on my list. It’s absolutely packed, and the sort of “scene” that just screams SF, with same-sex and mixed-sex couples making out all around us, then sort of making out with their food. Wine flows like a river. We squeeze into the bar and order a few glasses to start.

Sorelle Bronca Prosecco di Valdobbiadene (Veneto) – Fun citrus and sweet flower nectar with grapefruit and ripe melon. Aromatic and succulent. Terrific prosecco.

Unti 2003 Syrah (Dry Creek Valley) – Heavy, dark and thick fruit fighting through thick wood and thick (though ripe) tannin. Did I mention something about thickness? There are good raw materials here, and I suspect long ageability is a given, but the sludge is so heavy that it’s a chore to drink.

The food is fabulous…at least, most of the time. Artichokes done in the Jewish-Roman style with mint and lemon, a straight-from-the-sea salt cod dish, and a stunning, pure essence of cauliflower soup are the standouts from the first course, a giant platter of Tuscan pork ribs is carnivorous heaven, and gnocchi are absolutely flawless in their pillowy chew. The only letdown among the savory courses is a wan Dungeness crab salad, though it’s still better than dessert: a misguided buttermilk panna cotta with candied kumquats, which lacks both harmony and any appealing tastes.

Anselma 1993 Barolo (Piedmont) – Bitter tannin overwhelms fully-resolved fruit, leaving some dried rose petals and rough, sun-baked red cherries in its wake. Hanging on, but only just, and not that interesting of a wine.

Theresa opts for an oolong tea that arrives grossly oversteeped, while I delve into the stranger side of the dessert wine list.

Contini 1996 Vernaccia di Oristano Riserva (Sardinia) – Like dry oloroso Sherry, flat and austere with dark molasses residue. Very, very different. I’m initially repelled, but by the last sip it starts to grow on me.

TN: A sparkling knit (Oregon, pt. 7)

(The original version is here.)

[Argyle]
No sweater needed

14 July 2006 – Willamette Valley, Oregon

Argyle – We pull into this well-known winery’s busy parking lot just as the Valley- and coast-bound afternoon traffic from Portland really picks up, turning Dundee into a slow-moving parking lot of its own.

Argyle produces a wide – possibly too wide – range of wines, but for me they’ve always been best-represented by their often terrific sparkling wines, contenders for the absolute best of the United States.

Argyle 2001 Brut (Willamette Valley) – 53% chardonnay, 48% pinot noir. Soft grapefruit, geranium and banana with notes of too-old papaya and carambola. Too fluffy and imprecise.

Argyle 1998 Blanc de Blancs (Willamette Valley) – Clean and crisp, showing mixed apples and great balance between sharp fruit and bracing acidity. Essence of walnut emerges on the finish. A very nice wine, with medium-term aging potential.

Argyle 1998 Knudsen Brut (Willamette Valley) – 70% pinot noir. Full-bodied for a bubbly, showing strawberries and leaves with apple skins. It’s nicely structured, and in this respect acts more like a still wine made from pinot, but there’s also the elegance and sophistication of a fine sparkling wine. A fine particulate softness suffuses the wine, which has balance and length to spare. Marvelous.

Argyle 2003 Brut Rosé (Willamette Valley) – Raspberry, mango and strawberry in a bit of a fruit explosion, but there’s minerality underneath (mostly graphite), and a perfect, dry-but-not-desiccated finish. Terrific stuff.

Argyle 2005 Riesling (Willamette Valley) – From relatively new plantings, after an outbreak of phylloxera. Lime, grapefruit and some sourness with a strange, off-putting finish.

Argyle 2002 Merlot (Oregon) – Oak and oakspice with roasted cashew, blueberry jam and chunky peanut butter. Those with gluten allergies who nonetheless crave PB&J sandwiches might do well to consider this wine as an alternative.

Argyle 2003 Chardonnay “Nuthouse” (Willamette Valley) – From the Stoller and Knudsen vineyards, with 30% seeing new oak. Sulfurous and bland, with apricot and an unmistakable coal aroma. Perhaps the barrels weren’t just toasted, but were instead blackened? Did Paul Prudhomme have a hand in this?

Argyle 2004 Pinot Noir “Reserve” (Willamette Valley) – Gorgeous, crowd-pleasing strawberry and plum in a big, fat but muscular package. There’s no complexity now, but this has the construction and raw materials to age.

Argyle 2003 Pinot Noir “Nuthouse” (Willamette Valley) – Chewy and big, with huge plum flavors soured up by orange and blood orange. There’s decent acidity, but a hefty whack of alcohol, and the fruit is a little on the bizarre side. A confusing wine.

Argyle 2005 “Minus Five” (Willamette Valley) – Freezer wine…in this case from pinot noir, which is a first for me. It’s pretty good, with sweet, silky corn syrup, raspberry and rhubarb in equal measure. There’s enough acid to supply balance. A fun wine.

(Disclosure: tasting fee reduced, wines purchased at “trade” price rather than full retail.)

TN: The recalcitrant llama (Oregon, pt. 6)

[Belle Pente]14 July 2006 – Willamette Valley, Oregon

Belle Pente – When first visiting a wine region, I normally like to taste as widely as possible. This necessarily precludes appointments, which demand more attention and longer stays (the downside, of course, is that casual tasting cannot replicate the in-depth knowledge acquisition achieved by conversations with winemakers). However, some wineries are only open by appointment, and so it can’t be helped. Such is the case at Belle Pente.

I first encountered this winery years and years ago, on one of the online wine fora; some guy named Brian O’Donnell would occasionally post, and in-the-know locals would in turn laud the wines – mostly pinot noir, but also selections from the Alsatian palette – he was making. They weren’t available where I lived at the time, and later encounters here and there had left me…not so much underwhelmed as confused. I couldn’t figure out what the wines were trying to be.

But then there was another bottle, and another, and pretty soon I was as intrigued by the winery as those aforementioned locals. So when it came time to visit the Willamette Valley, there was just one person I actually called for a visit.

Craig Camp from Anne Amie guides us down dusty country roads to an unassuming property with a hillside vineyard, and…hey, wait, is that a llama? Well, yes, it is. He’s supposed to be on guard duty over other livestock, but mostly he appears to be hiding in the shade, well away from his charges. Bad llama. Bad, bad llama.

O’Donnell has squeezed us in on a busy day and at the last minute, but generously runs us through a quick tasting that gets less quick as time goes on. Like most winemakers, he’s reticent at first, but warmer later, and the wine conversation grows more effusive and expansive as we proceed. He explains that their property dates to the 1840s, and that they’re only the fifth people on it; at the time of their 1992 purchase, it hadn’t been farmed in thirty years.

The initial plantings were pinot noir, chardonnay, pinot blanc and gamay, though this mix has changed and grown over the years. About 50% of the fruit is from estate vineyards (totaling about 16 acres, 12 of them pinot noir), and the winery’s long-term commitment to organic viticulture has grown into the full biodynamic regimen that will begin with the 2006 vintage. O’Donnell mentions that there’s quite a “study group” on biodynamics in the Willamette Valley, led by Mike Etzel of Beaux Frères, and that we’ll be seeing more and more such wines in the future.

Belle Pente 2005 Muscat (barrel sample) (Willamette Valley) – Dosed with sulfites just prior to our arrival, and thus showing a little oddly, but the quality is obvious. All the muscat signifiers are there – flowers, yellow plum, exotic perfume – with a striking mineral core and a long, dry finish (the wine carries just four grams of residual sugar). It might be just a bit too dry for the average muscat fan, but I think there’s obvious potential here, and would like to taste it when it’s free of the sulfites.

Belle Pente 2003 Gewurztraminer (Willamette Valley) – Light and shy on the nose, with full, fruity orange and peach dusted with a little spice. The finish is long and equally fruity. O’Donnell seems unsure about the wine, but I think it tastes like a cold site Bas-Rhin gewurztraminer, which isn’t a bad thing at all. What it’s not is lush and full-bodied, as many people presume gewurztraminer must be. Still, it’s outclassed (in a sense) by the next wine.

Belle Pente 2005 Gewurztraminer (barrel sample) (Willamette Valley) – From chardonnay vines grafted over to gewurztraminer (virtually the definition of a universal good), showing honeysuckle and a long, balanced and dry finish. There’s still not the overwhelming “whomp” of highly-ripe gewurztraminer in the Alsatian style, but what this wine has – and the 2003 lacks – is coherence and harmony. On the other hand, at the moment the 2003 is definitely more fun to drink.

Belle Pente 2004 Pinot Gris (Willamette Valley) – Anise, leaves and mild residual sugar with faint minerality. The finish is long and soft. One wishes for a little more of…well, something. The wine doesn’t necessarily need size, but in its absence more nerve and clarity would be welcome.

Belle Pente 2004 Riesling (Willamette Valley) – O’Donnell labels this wine “the upper end of halbtrocken,” and notes that some of the fruit is from the third vineyard planted in all of Oregon. It’s a beautiful, late spring wine, showing crushed slate (between which flowers are blossoming) and honey, with great acidity. The minerality expands and sharpens on the palate and throughout the finish, giving this wine the razor-edge necessary for riesling, but in a somewhat smiley-faced and more immediately appealing fashion than its Germanic ancestors. Among North American rieslings, this is near the top of its class; in the Fatherland and its oenological brethren (Unclelands?), it would be about middle of the pack. That, lest its unclear, is pretty high praise.

Belle Pente 2003 Chardonnay “Reserve” (Willamette Valley) – Two-thirds estate fruit, spending eighteen months in barrel on the gross lees (O’Donnell calls it an “extended élevage experiment”). There’s great, spicy orange rind and candied tangerine on the nose, though the wine’s initial attack is a bit hollow. Things fill out on the midpalate, and build towards more tangerines just loaded with barrel spice and yeasty tingles. There’s even a bit of gravel. It’s very good in its idiom, though it tastes a bit more “made” than the other wines in this portfolio.

Belle Pente 2004 Pinot Noir (Yamhill-Carlton District) – These are young vines, and the fruit spends twelve months in barrel. The wine shows elegance, with dried strawberry leaves in the key of autumn, and gray soil in a cold fall light. Is that a hint of funk on the finish? A very pretty wine with some brief notions of complexity, but some rebellious elements as well.

Belle Pente 2003 Pinot Noir Belle Pente Vineyard (Willamette Valley) – Eighteen months in barrel, and adjusted to 24 brix before fermentation. Ripe strawberry and red cherry with a hint of fraise liqueur, an intense floral overlay, and a sturdy, tannic structure. The finish is very long. A wine more for the future than for now, and it should definitely reward careful aging.

Belle Pente 2003 Pinot Noir “Estate Reserve” (Willamette Valley) – O’Donnell explains that this wine stems from a “red fruit/black fruit” decision, with the Estate Reserve designed to express the latter. The difference is immediately obvious, with a heady wave of cassis and blueberry supported by great structure constructed of perfect, ageworthy amounts of tannin and acid. The acidity and the sheer stuffing of this wine quite literally buzz on the palate, especially as the finish lingers. Gorgeous, and highly ageable. However, there’s a caveat: for some people, the greater heft of this wine is what will define its quality. I quibble with that characterization. The wine probably is “better” than its red-fruited brethren, but not because of the red/black fruit divergence or its size and impact, but because of its overall balance and harmony. Further, it is a forceful wine that expresses the potential of pinot noir in a completely different way than its predecessors…which means that the wine will have different uses on the palate, at the table, and in the cellar. Those who appreciate the wonderful malleability and diversity of pinot noir will embrace both styles for what they are.

TN: The château on the hill (Oregon, pt. 5)

14 July 2006 – Willamette Valley, Oregon

(The original version, with more photos and the real secret to pinot noir production, is here.)

[Anne Amie entrance]Anne Amie – The former Chateau Benoit (the name lives on via a few bargain-priced wines) is perched atop a hill of vines, with one of the most expansive views in the entire Willamette Valley. The tasting room/visitor center itself is beautiful and artfully decorated. And so, I worry. Majestic views and elaborate interior design are rarely indicators of quality wine, except by historical inertia.

We’re here to meet Craig Camp, noted Italophile and blogger, but now general manager of the winery, and we’re several hours early. I’ve told Craig we’ll arrive in the afternoon, but a quick visit to Scott Paul has left us with some time before an appointment at a nearby winery, and since we’re in the neighborhood…

Anne Amie 2005 Pinot Gris (Oregon) – Ripe pear and hints of wood, with a juicy, chewy, and almost salty broth of overripe grapefruit infused with a little bit of anise. Feels off-dry, though I don’t know if it is. Strange wine.

Anne Amie 2003 Chardonnay (Oregon) – Smoked Calimyrna fig and sweaty oak with a sweet aspect countered by bitterness on the finish. The overall impression is candied and somewhat sickly, but then I’m rarely a fan of chardonnay.

Anne Amie 2005 Riesling (Willamette Valley) – Geraniums dominate a big, floral nose, rising from a wine full of ripe apple and tangerine. It’s crisp and fun, but the finish is distressingly short.

Anne Amie 2004 Pinot Noir “Cuvée A” (Oregon) – Intended as an early-drinking, inexpensive bottling, showing slightly stale and burnt notes on the nose, though it freshens considerably on the midpalate. There’s simple plum and synthetic strawberry fruit, with corn silk and an out-of-place buttery note on the finish. It’s decent, but no more than that.

Anne Amie 2003 Pinot Noir (Willamette Valley) – Fragrant with roses and lush strawberry vegetation, somewhat green in the middle, but longer-finishing than its predecessors, and showing more breadth and potential; not everything here seems to have ripened at the correct time. I’d suspect this is better in other vintages (and, as it turns out, we’ll have the chance to find out).

Anne Amie 2003 Pinot Noir Yamhill Springs (Willamette Valley) – Raspberry, strawberry, and charming floral notes, which turn to red plums on a bed of decayed leaves on the palate. Just a bit sweet (I suspect it’s from alcohol, not sugar), which expresses itself more positively as soft plum on the slightly overpolished finish. Almost a really nice wine, but it lacks…I’m not sure how to express it, but perhaps that extra bit of conviction necessary to carry the complexity of pinot noir.

Anne Amie 2003 Pinot Noir Hawks View (Willamette Valley) – Cherry liqueur, ripe strawberry and plum, with a nice, fresh, flower pollen finish with softness and elegance. By far the class of the bunch thus far, and a really lovely wine…as long as one isn’t overtly averse to kirsch.

Craig is out, but expected back soon, so we settle into an outdoor table with some average local cheese and a bottle given to Theresa as a conference gift; a micro-lunch (neither of us are particularly hungry, especially after a marvelous breakfast at the Black Walnut Inn, and with a big dinner on the horizon).

Sokol Blosser 2002 Pinot Noir (Dundee Hills) – Sweet plum and orange rind with a boring, flabby structure. Understuffed. While it’s never actively unpleasant to drink, boredom soon sets in.

As we sit and sip on Anne Amie’s gorgeous terrace, overlooking both vineyards and the valley below, Craig joins us, bottles in tow. We’re short on time, but it’s an enjoyable (albeit brief) overview of the Valley, the soil types, and Anne Amie’s history and philosophy. Vineyards sloping down towards the winery entrance have a rough patch in the middle (amongst a cluster of müller-thurgau), which Craig labels phylloxera and which allows him to utter the line of the afternoon: “müller-thurgau is the leading cause of teen pregnancy.” He’s also brought the single most interesting wine of our visit.

Anne Amie 2005 Viognier (Oregon) – Very floral, showing honeysuckle and peach with a pretty, flower-dominated finish. Gorgeous, varietally-true, and somewhat of a revelation.

Anne Amie 2002 Pinot Noir (Willamette Valley) – A small dip into the archives, showing a better (and, one assumes, more representative than the ’03) vintage of the basic pinot. This is very closed at the moment, showing hefty tannin that lends the wine a fairly bitter cast, but there’s soft fruit lurking underneath the structure. Too difficult to assess at the moment.

We do a brief tour of the cellar and a nearby vineyard, with Craig pointing out one of the fundamental differences between the Willamette’s various subregions: the soil. Here, it’s the grayish-tan Willakenzie, whereas in Dundee it’s a sun-baked brick red that gives the Red Hills their name. And he does us a final kindness by guiding us to our next appointment, a destination we might not have been able to find with our fairly indistinct map. The only lingering regret is that, in our haste to talk, tour and make our next appointment, I fail to purchase a few bottles of the wines I’m most interested in. Well, I’ll make it up to them next time.

(Disclosure: wine tasting, extra wine, several opened gift bottles from our tasting, and cheese provided free of charge.)

TN: Pinot, Paul & Volnay (Oregon, pt. 4)

[rabbit painting]

Scott Paul – It’s easy to miss Scott Paul’s brand-spanking new tasting room (and their even less-frequently spanked new winery, still in semi-skeletal form across the street), because it’s sorta tucked between what looks like a grain mill and a bunch of construction vehicles. As a result, we zip right by it the first time, and have to double back…which isn’t really much of a problem in the micro-village of Carlton.

The facility itself is bright but cozy, with the much commented-upon rabbit prominently featured on one wall, and fairly quiet. Most of the winery principals wander through at one point or another – Scott Paul Wright ambles, looking concerned (quite possibly over the state of construction across the road, given the quickly-advancing summer), while winemaker Kelley Fox strides purposefully through the room as if she intends to smash through the front door with her forehead. We don’t bother them, instead settling at a central table and perusing the tasting options.

Most pinot noir producers would not openly invite comparisons to Burgundy. Why that might be would vary from producer to producer, but the most obvious reason is that the wines are usually so different that their proximity will show one or the other in ill light. Not so at Scott Paul, for Wright owns a small, specialized Burgundy importing company, and presents these wines alongside his own. It’s a bold move.

Huber-Verdereau 2004 Bourgogne Blanc (Burgundy) – Lemon, apple and grapefruit with a flat, slate-like texture. Crisp and a little chewy on the finish. A nice little chardonnay, with no particular aspirations.

François Gay 2003 Savigny-les-Beaune (Burgundy) – Big, ripe and floral, showing dark plum and medium tannin with a heavy, seemingly alcohol-induced palate weight. A bit thudding. It’s actually not at all a bad wine for the vintage, but it’s really neither my style nor what I look for from a Savigny.

Pascal Bouley 2003 Volnay (Burgundy) – Juicy raspberry sours with a leafy finish. It seems overtly malic (or at least the acidity is slightly out-of-balance on the high side, possibly leaning towards the volatile), with strong, drying tannin. Turns to cran-raspberry juice on the biting, tongue-numbing finish. There’s potential, and fans of this style might find much to like here, but it’s most definitely not for me.

Scott Paul 2004 Pinot Noir “La Paulée” (Willamette Valley) – A selection made in the cellar, assembled from the best lots, and named after one of the bacchanalian wine dinners for which producers in Burgundy are famous. It’s restrained and aromatically repressed at first, but it can be coaxed both with aggressive swirling and retronasal agitation. There’s strawberry and concentrated plum on a foundation of sweet lead, which trends towards the gelatinous but then finishes with the emergence of seeds and a grace note of bitterness. The acid’s flawless, the balance is fine, and the finish is extremely long. A lovely wine in the first throes of its adolescence.

We mention to our tasting room host that we’d be interested in seeing what else from Scott Paul is available for purchase, and she responds by offering to open a second wine for us. This strikes us as kind and generous, though we’re not about to object.

Scott Paul 2004 Pinot Noir “Audrey” (Willamette Valley) – The pinnacle of what’s available in a given year, and again a cellar selection; this time named after Audrey Hepburn. That’s a lot to live up to. And yet, the wine surpasses expectations: beautifully soft and elegant, full of life, and possessed of hidden strengths expressed with delicacy. The nose is pristine, showing red cherry and lavender, followed by the gentlest of explosions on the palate: flowers and light red fruit. The finish is lithe, silky and seductive, with spices intermingling with a fine particulate granite texture, and lingers until the sensation can no longer be separated from the memory. Stunning, world-class pinot noir.

TN: Who’s the Boss? (Oregon, pt. 3)

[DDO sign](The original version, with more photos and a slightly cleaner look, is here …)

14 July 2006 – Willamette Valley, Oregon

Domaine Drouhin Oregon – This is an absolutely beautiful and expansive facility sitting on a marvelous hilltop, surrounded by tightly-controlled vines. We’re here a few minutes before opening, and a guy is shuttling boxes of wine from his car to the open window of the tasting room. I can’t resist commenting that I’ve always heard it’s supposed to work the other way.

It turns out that our anti-thief is Mark Bosko, the tasting room manager, and it also turns out that he’s from Boston. He gives us a short spiel, which includes the rather uncharitable fact that the price of the “Laurène” Pinot Noir has gone up $15 as of this morning. Why would you share that with a potential customer?

DDO (as some people tend to call it) produces just four wines: a regular pinot noir and three prestige cuvées – one chardonnay, two pinot noir – named after winemaker Véronique Drouhin-Boss’ children. The “Louise” is made in micro-quantities and not on offer, but the other three are…for a fairly princely tasting fee that is not easily refunded. Even though we walk out with $150 worth of wine, only one fee is absorbed. That strikes me as a little larcenous, but it’s their winery, and no one’s holding a gun to visitors’ heads (or wallets). I suppose I could have requested special access, especially since I’ve interviewed Véronique – one of the most relentlessly nice and generous people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, and who once set up a memorable visit to their Burgundian cellars – but sometimes it’s nice to just get in, taste, and get out as efficiently as possible.

Drouhin-Boss is an involved but absentee winemaker, doing much of her work from Beaune via overnight-shipped samples, and there’s always at least one local talent on hand to oversee daily operations. Scott Paul Wright, long associated with the winery, has moved on to his own project (which we’ll visit later), and David Millman now fills this role, with Arron Bell as cellarmaster. Everyone wishes she would spend more time in Oregon – not just for her expertise, but because people appear to have great affection for her, both at DDO and in the Valley in general – but with her husband and young children in Burgundy, I’m sure it’s a difficult trip to make with any great frequency.

Domaine Drouhin Oregon 2004 Chardonnay “Arthur” (Willamette Valley) – Tight, showing fig, grapefruit rind and a hint of dusty gooseberry on the nose. The palate is more elegant but with youthful solidity; Rainier cherry and walnut skin flavors present as dry as a desert wind. This wine is stuffed to the gills with extract, but remains wonderfully textured and balanced throughout…a quality which really emerges on the finish. This is one of the best domestic chardonnays I’ve ever tasted.

Domaine Drouhin Oregon 2003 Pinot Noir (Willamette Valley) – Chewy nuts, but otherwise pretty tight and oddly disjointed; a strange performance, or a strange wine? It’s hard to say, but there’s just not much here to judge. Mild taint? Perhaps, but our pourer pre-tasted the wine.

Domaine Drouhin Oregon 2002 Pinot Noir “Laurène” (Willamette Valley) – Sweet plum, strawberry and black mission fig with a deep undertone of black earth and traces of thyme and leather. Medium-bodied, though with a full and strong palate presence, turning to juicier blackberry and other dark fruit on the finish. Brilliant balance and structure.

TN: I’d like to bi another valve, Pat (California, pt. 6)

(The original version, with more photos and better formatting, is here.)

[tree]24 April 2006 –San Francisco, California

Hog Island Oyster Co. – Is it pigging out when a single person devours three dozen oysters? Oh, who cares…they’re terrific, especially the succulent Effingham Inlet oysters from British Columbia, which are so enticing on this day that my third dozen is 100% Effingham. And kudos to Hog Island for continuing to present a thoughtfully-conceived short list of oyster-friendly wine, beer and sake.

Uvaggio 2005 Vermentino (Lodi) – California vermentino? From Lodi? Well, sure, I’ll try anything once. Or twice, as it turns out, because this is eminently pleasant, alive with intense green fruit and flowers bolstered by reasonably fair acidity. Somehow, it reminds me more of sauvignon blanc than any Sardinian or Corsican vermentino I’ve tasted, but the flavors are just different enough to set it apart. It’s no Tayerle, but it’s a clean, juicy accompaniment to briny oysters.

Caffè Greco – Yes, that’s the accenting they use. This busy North Beach café serves up one of the biggest lattes I’ve ever seen, though I’m not sure as to the value of such a size, as the end of the drink is considerably cooler than most people prefer their coffee. As for the contents themselves: the weight is right, but they’re texturally gritty and very slightly overroasted (not to the typical Starbucks extreme, though). Plus, the milk could be a bit fresher. Despite the great location and authentic ambiance, this is a bit of a downer.

San Francisco Brewing Company – We join some of Theresa’s conference-mates (and, though most with us are unaware, her soon-to-be employer) at this sticky…anyone ever heard of cleaning fluid?…pub/restaurant with tons of slightly dodgy atmosphere. It’s trying for the perfect English pub feel, but it’s not quite spot on. There’s food, but we’re meeting friends later, so we stick to the brewed offerings.

San Francisco Brewing Company Shanghai IPA – Sweet and hoppy, with a coriander-scented froth. It’s long and properly biter, but a little odd; what’s with the sweetness?

San Francisco Brewing Company Andromeda Wheat – Seriously, what is with the sweetness? This is light, with particulate wheat grain and a soft finish. But the sugar stands out, and can’t even be knocked back with lemon. (On the bar’s menu board, this is listed as Andromeda Hefeweizen.)

A16 – In the wealthy Marina District, and packed to the gills from stem to stern and opening to closing, there’s little reason to expect continued high quality here…and yet, the quality remains, even with changes in the kitchen. The most common food-related complaint is that the pizza isn’t perfectly crispy, but the restaurant counters that the thin, fully-crispy crust people expect is Roman, not authentically Neapolitan…and that it’s the latter style that the restaurant is trying to emulate. In any case, their signature pizzas are excellent, with simply-presented toppings that feature both themselves and their foundation.

But there’s a lot more to this menu than pizza. An appetizer of tuna and artichoke is perfect in its simplicity and the interplay between the diffident greenness of the artichokes and the oily brine of the tuna, with the fishy elements of both binding the dish together. Asparagus with a walnut crema is deepened by a faint truffle note, and again works together to bring out the quality of the individual ingredients. And grilled calamari with ceci beans, tomato and fennel tastes as if it had been flung directly from the sea to the fire. Moving on to bigger plates, a heavenly, light-but-heavy gnocchi dish with peas and chili flakes sneaks up on the palate with its simple and pure appeal.

The only complaint I have about A16 is the din, which rises to conversation-obscuring levels for most of any dining period. But since this phenomenon is hardly uncommon in the restaurant world, it’s probably not worth complaining about.

A16’s wine list is very, very heavy on Southern Italian offerings, which means the majority of it will be completely opaque to Americans, who are rarely familiar with anything south of Tuscany. I have no problem identifying a few dozen wines I know and like, but on a list of this breadth I like to expand my horizons…and thus I enlist the help of Skye LaTorre, one of the three young wine specialists that assist A16’s wine director, Shelley Lindgren. (Of that quartet, three are women, which is both unusual and commendable in the often-conservative world of restaurant wine.) I give her my criteria: acid required, lighter on the wood, no goopy 2003-style wines, unusual is just fine, and anything earthy or mineral-driven is a plus. She literally hops with excitement, and scurries away to find something intriguing.

Dettori “Badde Nigolosu” 2004 Romangia Bianco (Sardinia) – 100% vermentino from a noted sub-region of the island, and Skye has definitely taken my encouragement towards the unusual literally. This wine is slightly cloudy, showing fat, spicy white melon and a powdery complexity on the palate that turns silky on the long finish. Like many Old World wines, it rises and falls in intensity proportional to the demands placed upon it by the accompanying food. Really, really interesting.

Marcassin 2002 Chardonnay Zio Tony Ranch (Russian River Valley) – Needless to say, this is not one of Skye’s suggestions, but rather a kind gift from a nearby table who notes the extent to which we’re geeking out over the wines. It’s extremely thick, showing wave upon wave of yellow fig – it’s more than a little monotonal – with a hint of peach, plenty of syrupy wood, and absolutely no finish. I suspect that people who like this style of oil wine would greet this with adoration, but I do not number among those people.

Viticoltori de Concillis 2003 Paestum “Naima” (Campania) – Also a gift from a neighboring table, and 100% aglianico. Dense, thick, and slightly woody, showing slow-braised blackberry, boysenberry and blackberry that turn to chocolate-covered jam on the finish. Again, probably yummy to some, but it tastes like a caricature to me. And where’s the aglianico? For that matter, where’s the Campania?

Argiolas 2002 Isola dei Nuraghi “Korem” (Sardinia) – A wine I know fairly well…but while Skye offers to exchange it for something else, no one else at the table is familiar with it, so we forge ahead. A blend of bovale sardo, carignano (carignane) and cannonau (grenache), showing roasted walnuts, roasted berries, red cherry and some earthy/loamy undertones. The wine is unquestionably thick, but balanced and nicely softened on the finish. It’s a bit internationalized, to be sure, but not in an offputting way.

Gaetano Pichierre “Vinicola Savese” 1994 Primitivo di Manduria (Apulia) – Bizarrely authentic and untouched by modern convention, this is dark red cherry and strawberry syrup with a gorgeous Mediterranean sweat character (better than it sounds, I suppose). It’s sweet, alcoholic and thick, with a short finish, but is fascinating enough in its uniqueness that other faults can be overlooked. Or not; it’s not particularly popular among my dining companions.