It's been quite awhile. It's been crazy. Opening a new, larger, intensely "complicated" location....seeing it grow....re-opening my little corner as a members only bar....talking to weird strangers who write in newspapers and magazines. It's all been very scary and stressful. I am glad to be writing again though. And I am glad to report that, just shy of a year in, I am getting back to my roots. I have found a very capable partner who is poised to take over the brunt of the wine bar duties....leaving me free to exercise my chaotic creativity, maniacal obsessions, and crazy ideas. I thrive in a wide open environment, free from overbearing schedules, wine lists and inventories. I am a true and pure child of Dionysus, Demi-god of wine, chaos and revelry. I cannot abide cages, systems, spreadsheets, lists and budgets. I know what works, but cannot explain methods. I sell a shit-ton of wine....but have never asked anyone to buy a single bottle. Sales are always a surprise. I am frequently asked at the bar: "how much is a bottle of this (or a case)." My reply, invariably, is, "hmmm...good question...let me check."
This morning, I welcome myself back to writing....and to doing what I do best!
Only the Good Stuff
Friday, November 4, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
2008 Bruno Clair Tasting at Terroni Restaurant, West Hollywood
Yesterday I tasted through a range of different wines from Domaine Bruno Clair, from the 2008 vintage. The following is a somewhat disjointed account of the experience.
Half past noon. Late. Damn, always seem to be late to these things. The waitress looks at me quizzically as Nikki and I walk through the door. I am wearing jeans and a t-shirt with the words "Their Ad Here" emblazoned on the front, peeking out from a faux-leather jacket. Nikki is wearing jeans and a sleeveless blouse, exposing her heavily tattooed arms and shoulders. We push through into the back of the restaurant, past the bathrooms and the kitchen, and the secret door groans and shrieks as I struggle to slide it open, exposing the wine cellar in the back of the restaurant and the 20 or so people seated around a long wooden table, quietly engaged in learning about the intricacies of the first few Village of the Cotes du Nuits, Burgundy.
We're half an hour late, though thankfully, the wines have yet to be poured. My friends, Ted and Paul are moderating this seminal tasting: the first ever seminar in Los Angeles to present the wines of Domaine Bruno Clair, one of the most exciting estates in Burgundy. Ted is arguing with Paul about an obscure point: are Grand Cru vineyards in Burgundy all within a narrow range of elevation, or not? They go back and forth. I'm not sure how many of the others around the table care, but I perk up. With wine, I am all about the subtle minutiae that nobody else seems to care about. They stop arguing and Ted proceeds with a description of the next set of vineyards in the village of Gevrey-Chambertin. He is talking about limestone. Corton-Charlemagne is poured. It is good, but it's the odd man out. Bruno Clair is a Cotes du Nuits producer primarily, and based in the Cotes d'Or's most northerly village, Marsannay. I love the fact that this wine is poured first...not after the Marsannay Blanc or the Marsannay Rose. This tells me that we are investigating a producer by the typicity of his style given his endowment of Terroir. Corton-Charlemagne is a great vineyard, a Grand Cru that demands respect. But it is simply out of the context of a terroir-focused presentation of Bruno Clair.
Just as the Marsannay Rose is being poured around the table, I hear Billy Idol in my head. Is it in my head? A ringtone? Shut your phone up somebody. But then I realize the restaurant has just opened and they've turned the music on. It's low and ambient but familiar. Somebody has decided that this Monday is '80's Monday at Terroni.
As the Chambertin Clos de Beze is poured, we are listening to Shock the Monkey by Peter Gabriel. Ted is still droning on about rocks and soil type and aspect. I really enjoy this...especially with Clos de Beze in my glass. I sing in my head, "SHOCK...THE...MONKEY...SHOCK...THE MONKEY!"
After the seminar, Paul, his girlfriend, Ted, Nikki, myself and Ted's new sales rep sit down to drink, among other things, a 2008 Le Clos from Jan-Marc Brochard, a 2006 Keller Hubacher, a 2009 Weingut Knoll Rose of Pinot Noir that somehow tastes like high-quality Gruner, a 2006 Chateau Rayas I brought....and what is left of the 10 Clair wines poured at the seminar. We share appetizers, cured meats, cheeses, eggplant wrapped cheese rolls, Lamb Ragu pasta, and each other's company. Its a good, happy group. It's a smart group. It's a day that develops into a night that confirms for me that I am doing exactly what I want to be doing with my life.
Half past noon. Late. Damn, always seem to be late to these things. The waitress looks at me quizzically as Nikki and I walk through the door. I am wearing jeans and a t-shirt with the words "Their Ad Here" emblazoned on the front, peeking out from a faux-leather jacket. Nikki is wearing jeans and a sleeveless blouse, exposing her heavily tattooed arms and shoulders. We push through into the back of the restaurant, past the bathrooms and the kitchen, and the secret door groans and shrieks as I struggle to slide it open, exposing the wine cellar in the back of the restaurant and the 20 or so people seated around a long wooden table, quietly engaged in learning about the intricacies of the first few Village of the Cotes du Nuits, Burgundy.
We're half an hour late, though thankfully, the wines have yet to be poured. My friends, Ted and Paul are moderating this seminal tasting: the first ever seminar in Los Angeles to present the wines of Domaine Bruno Clair, one of the most exciting estates in Burgundy. Ted is arguing with Paul about an obscure point: are Grand Cru vineyards in Burgundy all within a narrow range of elevation, or not? They go back and forth. I'm not sure how many of the others around the table care, but I perk up. With wine, I am all about the subtle minutiae that nobody else seems to care about. They stop arguing and Ted proceeds with a description of the next set of vineyards in the village of Gevrey-Chambertin. He is talking about limestone. Corton-Charlemagne is poured. It is good, but it's the odd man out. Bruno Clair is a Cotes du Nuits producer primarily, and based in the Cotes d'Or's most northerly village, Marsannay. I love the fact that this wine is poured first...not after the Marsannay Blanc or the Marsannay Rose. This tells me that we are investigating a producer by the typicity of his style given his endowment of Terroir. Corton-Charlemagne is a great vineyard, a Grand Cru that demands respect. But it is simply out of the context of a terroir-focused presentation of Bruno Clair.
Just as the Marsannay Rose is being poured around the table, I hear Billy Idol in my head. Is it in my head? A ringtone? Shut your phone up somebody. But then I realize the restaurant has just opened and they've turned the music on. It's low and ambient but familiar. Somebody has decided that this Monday is '80's Monday at Terroni.
As the Chambertin Clos de Beze is poured, we are listening to Shock the Monkey by Peter Gabriel. Ted is still droning on about rocks and soil type and aspect. I really enjoy this...especially with Clos de Beze in my glass. I sing in my head, "SHOCK...THE...MONKEY...SHOCK...THE MONKEY!"
After the seminar, Paul, his girlfriend, Ted, Nikki, myself and Ted's new sales rep sit down to drink, among other things, a 2008 Le Clos from Jan-Marc Brochard, a 2006 Keller Hubacher, a 2009 Weingut Knoll Rose of Pinot Noir that somehow tastes like high-quality Gruner, a 2006 Chateau Rayas I brought....and what is left of the 10 Clair wines poured at the seminar. We share appetizers, cured meats, cheeses, eggplant wrapped cheese rolls, Lamb Ragu pasta, and each other's company. Its a good, happy group. It's a smart group. It's a day that develops into a night that confirms for me that I am doing exactly what I want to be doing with my life.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Drinking Wine in Small Spaces
I like drinking wine in small spaces. I don't know what it is about pairing a small, intimate wine bar and a good glass of wine, but the combination is magic. Recently I was recalling my experiences drinking wine in various small venues with good friends, and I got to thinking: why? What is the connection?
There is also the issue of small tastes, or flights that seem to be the norm in small wine shops and tasting rooms. In Europe, frequently, wine-centered drinking establishments will offer very small glasses of inexpensive wines as a mainstay of their lists. Groups of tasters will order multiple rounds, which become catalysts to group conversation. This commonality inhering between the social group and the wine in the glass seems to reinforce social bonds, bringing the group into a deeper level of alcohol-centered intimacy. Customers in small wine bars tend also to be less transient than in other wine and food venues. Somehow this commonality is enhanced by the actual bar itself. A sense of ownership and shared assent develops, and loyalty is the inevitable result. A certain vibe and crowd eventually begins to describe and define the space, attracting similar customers with shared tastes and values. A micro-culture is born.
I cannot think of another kind of venue where these bonds develop to the extent that they do in the small wine bar. Especially in Southern Europe, wine bars define the culture, politics and communal vibe of a people. While regulated by the regional authorities, these centers of communal gathering exclude the authorities and the State by virtue of their nature as centers of grass-roots ad-hoc organizations and social groupings. They offer an escape from the weary and structured day-to-day of life in the age of the Nation-State. Bars and cultural identity are inextricably bound in a mutually creative evolution that is one of the greatest expressions of the primal freedom of the human experience. Small bars are a place of safety, and act as a surrogate womb for so many of us that are looking to escape the days troubles, and to experience camaraderie, free discussion and mutual regard. And catch a little buzz.
There is also the issue of small tastes, or flights that seem to be the norm in small wine shops and tasting rooms. In Europe, frequently, wine-centered drinking establishments will offer very small glasses of inexpensive wines as a mainstay of their lists. Groups of tasters will order multiple rounds, which become catalysts to group conversation. This commonality inhering between the social group and the wine in the glass seems to reinforce social bonds, bringing the group into a deeper level of alcohol-centered intimacy. Customers in small wine bars tend also to be less transient than in other wine and food venues. Somehow this commonality is enhanced by the actual bar itself. A sense of ownership and shared assent develops, and loyalty is the inevitable result. A certain vibe and crowd eventually begins to describe and define the space, attracting similar customers with shared tastes and values. A micro-culture is born.
I cannot think of another kind of venue where these bonds develop to the extent that they do in the small wine bar. Especially in Southern Europe, wine bars define the culture, politics and communal vibe of a people. While regulated by the regional authorities, these centers of communal gathering exclude the authorities and the State by virtue of their nature as centers of grass-roots ad-hoc organizations and social groupings. They offer an escape from the weary and structured day-to-day of life in the age of the Nation-State. Bars and cultural identity are inextricably bound in a mutually creative evolution that is one of the greatest expressions of the primal freedom of the human experience. Small bars are a place of safety, and act as a surrogate womb for so many of us that are looking to escape the days troubles, and to experience camaraderie, free discussion and mutual regard. And catch a little buzz.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Vin du Terroir vs Vin du Technologie
There is a war going on. A dirty, clandestine war. A war that will ultimately determine the future of wine in the 21st century.
Just as the first world consumer is being conditioned to care about things like organic agricultural practices and fresh, pesticide free, synthetic additive-free products, and just as she has become more than willing to pay a little bit more for them...a wolf in sheep's clothing creeps in among her, attempting to make a dime or two manipulating her good intentions. This wolf has many forms, but in the world of commercial wine production, it goes by the name Vin du Technologie.
These wolves are a clever bunch, and they band together...protecting their lies. They pay writers to spin beautiful stories about the history of their wines, how it is all a family affair, which appears on the back of their labels. And on the front, they print rustic scenes, or flowers, or otherwise disarming graphics, to give the impression that the wine in the bottle comes from the earth and is natural.
And you'd be surprised to learn who these wolves are. They're not just the Mondavi's, the Gallo's; they're also those small boutique wineries in Napa, and those famous and expensive imports.
Vins du Terroir are wines from producers that commit to making an authentic product, a true expression of soil and vintage. They do not always produce great wines, and sometimes their wines are not even good. But they are always honest, always sustainable, always real wine.
This war is part of a larger modern dilemma. This dilemma poses the question: if we can use technology to make a thing "better", ought we always do it? This is the most important question a winegrower must answer every year come harvest time, and indeed, throughout the year as the grapes mature on the vine. And to answer yes to the question is very, very tempting (and potentially incredibly lucrative).
Wine is the result of a naturally occurring chemical reaction called fermentation. Grapes crushed in a vessel will ferment and become wine whether or not there is a human being there to manage it. Wine makes itself, and the human element simply shepherds this natural product into its best finished state.
‘We believe in natural winegrowing and winemaking, and I must admit that this has led us to have serious debates with scientists spanning three generations’, responds Beaucastel’s Marc Perrin. ‘In the mid-1950s, for instance, our grandfather, Jacques Perrin, decided to stop using chemical pesticides or herbicides on the vineyard. At that time, when scientists were recommending the use of such chemicals for productivity or lobby reasons, that seemed crazy and impossible. Now, it seems that people have changed their mind and more and more vineyards are turning organic. I could quote many more examples of opposition between a scientific vision of wine and our traditional/terroir oriented philosophy of wine, and the subject of Brettanomyces is just one more’, he explained. ‘There are certainly some Brettanomyces in every natural wine, because Brettanomyces is not a spoilage yeast (as many people think) but one of the yeasts that exist in winemaking. Some grapes, like Mourvèdre, are richer in 4-ethyl-phenol 'precursors' than others and we have a high percentage of these grapes in our vineyard. Of course, you can kill all natural yeasts, then use industrial yeast to start the fermentation, saturate the wine with SO2 and then strongly filtrate your wine. There will then be no remaining yeasts, but also no taste and no typicity. That is the difference between natural wine and industrial wine, between craftsmanship and mass-market product.’
The presence of Brettanomyces in the Beaucastel wines is just one example of what would be lost if wines were no longer produced naturally. Tasting wines professionally, it is my job to decide whether a wine has a flaw...before I give it to my customer. But therein lies the predicament. What should I really be looking for? Correctness? More often than not, the technological wines are the most correct wines, the more polished wines. They are the wines that frequently get the big scores (there are a great many exceptions, however, Beaucastel included) and garner the superlative press.
Ultimately, this post is rhetorical. I am siding with the natural wines, warts and all. But I do think about this state of the industry, and what will ultimately be the resolution. I have found the best producers are cautiously experimenting with wine technology...asking the question, "if I do this will I harm the character and typicity of the wine?" Some have elected to use these new tools and techniques, others not. As a buyer, I guess I am committed to the same approach.
Just as the first world consumer is being conditioned to care about things like organic agricultural practices and fresh, pesticide free, synthetic additive-free products, and just as she has become more than willing to pay a little bit more for them...a wolf in sheep's clothing creeps in among her, attempting to make a dime or two manipulating her good intentions. This wolf has many forms, but in the world of commercial wine production, it goes by the name Vin du Technologie.
These wolves are a clever bunch, and they band together...protecting their lies. They pay writers to spin beautiful stories about the history of their wines, how it is all a family affair, which appears on the back of their labels. And on the front, they print rustic scenes, or flowers, or otherwise disarming graphics, to give the impression that the wine in the bottle comes from the earth and is natural.
And you'd be surprised to learn who these wolves are. They're not just the Mondavi's, the Gallo's; they're also those small boutique wineries in Napa, and those famous and expensive imports.
Vins du Terroir are wines from producers that commit to making an authentic product, a true expression of soil and vintage. They do not always produce great wines, and sometimes their wines are not even good. But they are always honest, always sustainable, always real wine.
This war is part of a larger modern dilemma. This dilemma poses the question: if we can use technology to make a thing "better", ought we always do it? This is the most important question a winegrower must answer every year come harvest time, and indeed, throughout the year as the grapes mature on the vine. And to answer yes to the question is very, very tempting (and potentially incredibly lucrative).
Wine is the result of a naturally occurring chemical reaction called fermentation. Grapes crushed in a vessel will ferment and become wine whether or not there is a human being there to manage it. Wine makes itself, and the human element simply shepherds this natural product into its best finished state.
‘We believe in natural winegrowing and winemaking, and I must admit that this has led us to have serious debates with scientists spanning three generations’, responds Beaucastel’s Marc Perrin. ‘In the mid-1950s, for instance, our grandfather, Jacques Perrin, decided to stop using chemical pesticides or herbicides on the vineyard. At that time, when scientists were recommending the use of such chemicals for productivity or lobby reasons, that seemed crazy and impossible. Now, it seems that people have changed their mind and more and more vineyards are turning organic. I could quote many more examples of opposition between a scientific vision of wine and our traditional/terroir oriented philosophy of wine, and the subject of Brettanomyces is just one more’, he explained. ‘There are certainly some Brettanomyces in every natural wine, because Brettanomyces is not a spoilage yeast (as many people think) but one of the yeasts that exist in winemaking. Some grapes, like Mourvèdre, are richer in 4-ethyl-phenol 'precursors' than others and we have a high percentage of these grapes in our vineyard. Of course, you can kill all natural yeasts, then use industrial yeast to start the fermentation, saturate the wine with SO2 and then strongly filtrate your wine. There will then be no remaining yeasts, but also no taste and no typicity. That is the difference between natural wine and industrial wine, between craftsmanship and mass-market product.’
The presence of Brettanomyces in the Beaucastel wines is just one example of what would be lost if wines were no longer produced naturally. Tasting wines professionally, it is my job to decide whether a wine has a flaw...before I give it to my customer. But therein lies the predicament. What should I really be looking for? Correctness? More often than not, the technological wines are the most correct wines, the more polished wines. They are the wines that frequently get the big scores (there are a great many exceptions, however, Beaucastel included) and garner the superlative press.
Ultimately, this post is rhetorical. I am siding with the natural wines, warts and all. But I do think about this state of the industry, and what will ultimately be the resolution. I have found the best producers are cautiously experimenting with wine technology...asking the question, "if I do this will I harm the character and typicity of the wine?" Some have elected to use these new tools and techniques, others not. As a buyer, I guess I am committed to the same approach.
Monday, February 21, 2011
I'll take my wine rare, please
Scarcity. It is possibly the greatest marketing tool for luxury products that exists in the toolbox of the luxury retailer. I may not look like a peddler of luxury goods, but in reality I am just that. All of the wines I sell fit the definition of a luxury product. And scarcity is at the center of what defines the wines I sell.
There are two different general expressions of scarcity: deliberate, fabricated scarcity, and actual scarcity. For the former, think limited edition mintings of coins. We've all seen the late night commercials: "Get your commemorative Barack Obama half dollar for only...." This is a deliberate, fabricated scarcity, used as a marketing strategy to convince people to impulse buy. A different expression of scarcity of this type is responsible for the prohibitive prices of Louis Vuitton bags, Ferraris and Rolex watches. None of these products need necessarily be scarce. They are made in relatively limited quantities, and sell for exorbitant prices as a deliberate marketing/branding strategy. More of them could be made, and for a lot less money...all while maintaining the level of quality.
But, when one considers premium imported wine, the second type of scarcity is the only type that applies. 90 percent of the wine produced in the world is high-production. The business model is as follows: 10,000 cases and above equals profitability. Anything less and you're in the red. The wines that I carry operate on a completely antithetical model. To produce great wine, one must first and foremost keep crop yields very low. Two tons an acre seems to be the mean. Great vineyard sites is also another necessity. Bad grapes will never make good wine. Good vineyard, good grapes, low-yields equals tenuous profitability. In other words, an almost anti-business commitment to quality is a necessity for the production of good wine.
The producers that I carry generally let the bottom line take a back seat to quality. An insane business philosophy to most. And this is why wines of this ilk generally represent about 10% of total commercial wine production by volume on the planet.
But there is something to be said for being crazy for quality. In this over-commercialized world of ours, many of us are waking up to the idea that quality is important, and is possibly the greatest surviving means of real, authentic pleasure.
There are two different general expressions of scarcity: deliberate, fabricated scarcity, and actual scarcity. For the former, think limited edition mintings of coins. We've all seen the late night commercials: "Get your commemorative Barack Obama half dollar for only...." This is a deliberate, fabricated scarcity, used as a marketing strategy to convince people to impulse buy. A different expression of scarcity of this type is responsible for the prohibitive prices of Louis Vuitton bags, Ferraris and Rolex watches. None of these products need necessarily be scarce. They are made in relatively limited quantities, and sell for exorbitant prices as a deliberate marketing/branding strategy. More of them could be made, and for a lot less money...all while maintaining the level of quality.
But, when one considers premium imported wine, the second type of scarcity is the only type that applies. 90 percent of the wine produced in the world is high-production. The business model is as follows: 10,000 cases and above equals profitability. Anything less and you're in the red. The wines that I carry operate on a completely antithetical model. To produce great wine, one must first and foremost keep crop yields very low. Two tons an acre seems to be the mean. Great vineyard sites is also another necessity. Bad grapes will never make good wine. Good vineyard, good grapes, low-yields equals tenuous profitability. In other words, an almost anti-business commitment to quality is a necessity for the production of good wine.
The producers that I carry generally let the bottom line take a back seat to quality. An insane business philosophy to most. And this is why wines of this ilk generally represent about 10% of total commercial wine production by volume on the planet.
But there is something to be said for being crazy for quality. In this over-commercialized world of ours, many of us are waking up to the idea that quality is important, and is possibly the greatest surviving means of real, authentic pleasure.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Late Night at La Tour
I need to get used to this. I have just finished all the dishes, the wiping down of surfaces, the restocking, the cash counting. Granted, we ran a bit late tonight, but with a closing time of 11pm, I estimate that I will be here for at least 45 minutes after last call. So that puts me at an estimated lights out time of around 11:45. I'm usually well home by that time, watching a movie and relaxing with my Baby and the Kittens. Getting used to this will definintely be a process.
I am watching the last cook close out at Paradise across the street. He is watching something at the bar, no doubt eating his late-night dinner and having a drink. Decompressing. I don't eat after 9pm, so I am starving. I need to remember to bring dinner to work. However, despite the late night, I am grateful. We are blessed to be in this position, to own our own place, masters of our own destiny, going for broke, making dreams, our dreams happen, each hour, each night, each day of the week.
It recalls the original vision for the place: I went from wanting a university career as a tenured professor of Politcal History, to simply wanting to become a humble shop keeper, purveying the best possible wines I can get my hands on. And I could not possibly dream for a better life. I love seeing the wonder, the surprise, the gratitude in people's eyes. I love making people happy. Not drunk (often that happens), but happy. There is a path to happiness, to conviviality, contained in the right bottle of wine. Therein lies my life's goal: to purvey happiness, profundity, wonder.
I hope that I can keep at it, as long as this world gives me the strength.
I am watching the last cook close out at Paradise across the street. He is watching something at the bar, no doubt eating his late-night dinner and having a drink. Decompressing. I don't eat after 9pm, so I am starving. I need to remember to bring dinner to work. However, despite the late night, I am grateful. We are blessed to be in this position, to own our own place, masters of our own destiny, going for broke, making dreams, our dreams happen, each hour, each night, each day of the week.
It recalls the original vision for the place: I went from wanting a university career as a tenured professor of Politcal History, to simply wanting to become a humble shop keeper, purveying the best possible wines I can get my hands on. And I could not possibly dream for a better life. I love seeing the wonder, the surprise, the gratitude in people's eyes. I love making people happy. Not drunk (often that happens), but happy. There is a path to happiness, to conviviality, contained in the right bottle of wine. Therein lies my life's goal: to purvey happiness, profundity, wonder.
I hope that I can keep at it, as long as this world gives me the strength.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
.commer Cab vs the Pirate Cab
I don't do this very often anymore. Taste wines made in California that is. Nor do I often taste two wines side by side, allowing them to develop in the glass, tracking their progress, in a deliberate effort to judge them. I taste a lot of wine and I remember every wine I have ever tasted. But I usually taste wines for the pleasure of it, only incidentally noting things like color, concentration, extract, tannin, acid, etc.
But yesterday was different. I tasted side by side two wines made in California, one from Coombsville in the Napa Valley, the other from the Santa Ynez Valley. Both wines were 100% Cabernet Sauvignon. Both wines are very recent additions to the commercial wine market, one being completely unavailable to the general public, and the other so prohibitively expesive as to render it unavailable to most average wine drinkers. So I guess the deliberation was justified in this case.
The wines:
2007 Meteor "Perseid" Cabernet Sauvignon, Napa Valley (owned by the former CEO of AOL, hence .commer Cab)
2007 Santa Ynez Valley Cabernet Sauvignon, made by Rob Dafoe (as yet unlabeled). Rob is a Pirate (which explains the other portion of the title of this post).
The bottles were opened almost simultaneously, within a half hour of one another. The wines were tasted before and after decanting. The wines were near identical in color, with Rob's wine showing a bit darker and more opaque (I'd venture to guess that this is because Rob's wine was unfiltered). The Meteor was exuberant on the nose, all bright red fruit, subtle and well integrated oak, ripe, firm tannin with good acidity. As was Rob's wine, except without quite as much polish. Some pleasant green notes, a bit of baked fruit and a broader overall mouthfeel were the main differences. The Meteor reminded me of many Oakville Cabs that I have tasted, and it certainly had a femininity about it, much like the wines of Etude, Dalla Valle and Screaming Eagle. This is a very high quality wine, extremely polished and typical of high-quality Napa Cab. It was remarkable for its restraint and elegance, something I am not always used to seeing in a California Cab this young.
Rob's wine, while of the same overall quality as the Meteor wine, had a different personality entirely. A bit rough around the edges if not surly, it reminded me of many super-seconds I have tasted over the years. Mainly I am thinking of Leoville Las Cases, but I was also reminded of the somewhat brutish 86 Mouton-Rothschild. This wine felt alive with personality and pluck. This was a very distinctive wine, bristling with character and complexity, something very rare indeed, considering that this is a wine from Santa Ynez, and a Santa Ynez Cab to boot! This was the winner in my opinion. It delivered an authenticity that the Meteor wine lacked.
The Meteor wine, curiously, began to completely fall apart about two hours into the tasting. The fruit was gradually overtaken by a bitter, metallic component, and the acid became disjointed, making for a total loss of pleasure. Rob's wine continued to gain weight in the glass, developing notes of black tea, leather and bitter chocolate.
And today it is as it was...still plucky and full of life. Both wines were a real treat and very, very good. But Rob's wine reminded me why I am in the industry in the first place: because truly great, compelling wines are frequently unexpected, around the next corner, from people and places one can never anticipate. I have been known to completely berate Santa Ynez Valley Cabernet Sauvignon, and anyone who knows me at all will tell you how thoroughly underwhelming I find Santa Ynez Valley wines generally. It is really nice to be disabused every now and again, to break the bones in one's head.
But yesterday was different. I tasted side by side two wines made in California, one from Coombsville in the Napa Valley, the other from the Santa Ynez Valley. Both wines were 100% Cabernet Sauvignon. Both wines are very recent additions to the commercial wine market, one being completely unavailable to the general public, and the other so prohibitively expesive as to render it unavailable to most average wine drinkers. So I guess the deliberation was justified in this case.
The wines:
2007 Meteor "Perseid" Cabernet Sauvignon, Napa Valley (owned by the former CEO of AOL, hence .commer Cab)
2007 Santa Ynez Valley Cabernet Sauvignon, made by Rob Dafoe (as yet unlabeled). Rob is a Pirate (which explains the other portion of the title of this post).
The bottles were opened almost simultaneously, within a half hour of one another. The wines were tasted before and after decanting. The wines were near identical in color, with Rob's wine showing a bit darker and more opaque (I'd venture to guess that this is because Rob's wine was unfiltered). The Meteor was exuberant on the nose, all bright red fruit, subtle and well integrated oak, ripe, firm tannin with good acidity. As was Rob's wine, except without quite as much polish. Some pleasant green notes, a bit of baked fruit and a broader overall mouthfeel were the main differences. The Meteor reminded me of many Oakville Cabs that I have tasted, and it certainly had a femininity about it, much like the wines of Etude, Dalla Valle and Screaming Eagle. This is a very high quality wine, extremely polished and typical of high-quality Napa Cab. It was remarkable for its restraint and elegance, something I am not always used to seeing in a California Cab this young.
Rob's wine, while of the same overall quality as the Meteor wine, had a different personality entirely. A bit rough around the edges if not surly, it reminded me of many super-seconds I have tasted over the years. Mainly I am thinking of Leoville Las Cases, but I was also reminded of the somewhat brutish 86 Mouton-Rothschild. This wine felt alive with personality and pluck. This was a very distinctive wine, bristling with character and complexity, something very rare indeed, considering that this is a wine from Santa Ynez, and a Santa Ynez Cab to boot! This was the winner in my opinion. It delivered an authenticity that the Meteor wine lacked.
The Meteor wine, curiously, began to completely fall apart about two hours into the tasting. The fruit was gradually overtaken by a bitter, metallic component, and the acid became disjointed, making for a total loss of pleasure. Rob's wine continued to gain weight in the glass, developing notes of black tea, leather and bitter chocolate.
And today it is as it was...still plucky and full of life. Both wines were a real treat and very, very good. But Rob's wine reminded me why I am in the industry in the first place: because truly great, compelling wines are frequently unexpected, around the next corner, from people and places one can never anticipate. I have been known to completely berate Santa Ynez Valley Cabernet Sauvignon, and anyone who knows me at all will tell you how thoroughly underwhelming I find Santa Ynez Valley wines generally. It is really nice to be disabused every now and again, to break the bones in one's head.
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