My one and only trip to the medieval village of Jesi, back in February of 2006, was scheduled with a single purpose in mind: to visit the winery of Mario and Giorgio Brunori. Jesi is situated just inland from Ancona, about 20 kilometers from the Adriatic Sea in Italy’s Le Marche. Mario and his father Giorgio’s property sits astride the hillsides just outside of town. We visited their vineyards, toured their facilities and tasted their lineup of tank samples and wines (plus a stunningly good Grappa) that were current at the time. It was a typical winery visit – informative, straightforward, pretty in its own way. What followed a short while later is what really sticks out in my mind.
We picked up Mario’s sister, Christina, at the enoteca the Brunori family owns back in the center of Jesi and headed to one of their favorite local trattorias for lunch. It was clear that the Brunori’s were regulars as, after just a few quick exchanges between Christina and one of the owners, platters of food began to arrive at our table. Seafood. Nothing but. An incredibly diverse array of goodies. Tiny cockles stewed in tomato sauce. Equally tiny sea snails served in their shells and studded with garlic. Fried calamari and grilled sepia. Several varieties of fish cooked with herbs and local olive oil. And linguine con le vongole. Seafood is a staple of the diet in this part of coastal Le Marche. In speaking with the Brunoris, it became clear that, aside from the hillside vineyards, the nearby sea is considered the major “farm” of the area.
We drank just one wine with the entire meal – the Brunori’s Verdicchio dei Castelli di Jesi Classico Superiore “San Nicolò.” A single vineyard, San Nicolò includes the Brunori’s oldest vines that produce a naturally concentrated, zesty, brisk and soulful example of Verdicchio. The wine we drank that day, it was probably the 2004, worked – and worked really well – with everything we ate, from the lightest shellfish to the most richly flavored finfish.
It’s been a go-to wine for me at home, before and since, whenever I think of something to go with one of my favorite comfort food dishes – spaghetti with white clam sauce. Linguine con le vongole, if you prefer. It’s a heartwarming pairing. “What grows together goes together,” the saying goes. It’s now overused, perhaps, but it became an adage in food and drink circles for good reason.
This shall be the third and final installment of my tasting reports from Boutique Wine Collection’s portfolio tasting held earlier this week along the parkway in Philadelphia. How to handle a big, broad tasting like this is always a challenge. Nine tables, in this case, with an average of fifteen wines at each. Four hours from start to finish. I suppose it would be possible to taste everything, but not for me. I’m not a power taster. I prefer to spend at least a little time with and give at least a little thought to each wine, even if it is with just an ounce or two in my tasting glass, a spit bucket always close at hand.
I suppose if I were an egalitarian, blank slate kind of taster, I’d try to focus on the areas where I’ve a lot to learn – Argentina or South Africa, for instance. But I’m not out to build an intentionally multinational wine list or to stock a price-point driven, one-stop liquor mart. So, after years of tasting like this, my approach is usually to focus on my areas of strength, always looking for new discoveries, and then to dabble a little in the realm of the lesser known. When it comes to wine, I really don’t believe there’s such a thing as an expert, certainly not in the widest sense. For my own purposes, I’d much rather know a lot about a little than a little about a lot.
This is all, in my typically long-winded fashion, to explain that, when it came to working my way through the core of Boutique’s direct imports at the tasting, I focused on their offerings from France, Austria and Germany and just dabbled a little in the New World and Spain.
Sandrine DuPouy, the French Portfolio Manager for Boutique Wine Collection, is originally from Toulouse but is now based in South Africa – an unusual commuting arrangement, to be sure.
John Toler, pictured at right, is Wholesale Sales Manager for Boutique Wine Collection. John was pouring wines from a Friulian producer, Scarbolo, brought in by Dark Star Imports. To my chagrin, I never managed to taste them. Next time, I hope. John was setup next to Boutique’s Spanish Portfolio Manager (whose name I somehow managed to miss).
Yes, I actually did make it past the first table at Boutique Wine Collection’s recent portfolio tasting. It was only a few steps to the next, which featured a hodgepodge of wines from various segments of Michael Skurnik’s book, including a few Daniel Johnnes Selections.
Jonathan Schwartz, Terry Theise Portfolio Manger, was down from New York for the day to pour wines for the Skurnik team. Sorry about catching you with your eyes closed, Jonathan.
On the opposite side of the room, manning the last table, Nicola Biscardo was pouring selections from his own Italian portfolio, part of The Country Vintner’s line-up.
Boutique Wine Collection held their annual trade portfolio tasting in a sunny atrium at Philadelphia’s Moore College of Art on Monday. Thanks to an invite from Boutique’s Wholesale Sales Manager, John Toler, I had the pleasure of attending. Boutique’s own import book focuses in Spain and South Africa, augmented by small presences in Austria, France, Germany and New Zealand.
Like many other importers in the mid-Atlantic region, they’re also distributors, not only brokering their own portfolio but also clearing wines for other importers. In Pennsylvania, their book includes the entire Michael Skurnik Wines portfolio as well as the wines of The Country Vintner. In Delaware, they manage all of Skurnik’s range with the exception of the Terry Theise Selections (which are brought into DE by Bacchus). Convoluted enough for you? That’s the wine biz.
To keep things readable – and to keep my time manageable – I’ll be breaking my report on the overall event into two or three posts, each one focusing on a particular piece of the puzzle. There were a lot of wines to taste, so I’ll be touching mainly on the highlights along with a few lowlights. Notes will be much breezier than usual, so hang on.
Highlights from the Terry Theise Selections lineup:
Skurnik reps were manning the first two tables in the room, an enviable position that captured much of the early (and my) attention. Table 1 featured a strong lineup of grower Champagnes, as well as some odds and ends from Theise’s German and Austrian portfolio. Not a bad way to get things rolling.
Kevin Pike, Director of National Sales & Marketing for Michael Skurnik Wines, seems to be the go-to guy where Theise's Champagne portfolio is concerned. This is his second appearance at MFWT and bubbly brought him here both times.
I've just learned that Didier Dagueneau, the man behind some of the most intense, controversial and respected Sauvignon's in the Loire -- really, in the world -- died earlier today in a small aircraft crash. Joe Dressner has written a fitting memorial that well captures the man's spirit. Rest in peace, Didier. (Photo courtesy of Bertrand Celce.)
Yep, it’s time for yet another entry in the annals of Wine Blogging Wednesday. Today’s host is D. Honig – political cartoonist, wine blogger behind Two Days Per Bottle and organizer extraordinaire. He’s asked participants to raise a toast to the end of the Bush era. The spirit in which that toast was meant he diplomatically left up to those partaking.
The wine I’m writing up for today’s episode was bottled in June 2001, just a few months after George W. Bush assumed office. I drank it about a week ago, just a few months before he will have no choice but to leave office. The bottle spent most of the time in between resting peacefully in my cellar. The wine came through its near 8-year term in good shape; only its label was a little worse for wear. I wish I could say I’ve taken as much enjoyment from W’s two terms as President.
California Red Table Wine “Pleiades X Old Vines,” Sean Thackrey NV
About $16 on release. 13.9% alcohol. Cork.
Forget about McCain, Bush’s wannabe successor. Sean Thackrey is a maverick. Like his wines or not, there’s no denying that he’s an iconoclast. Though he doesn’t own a single parcel of vineyard, Thackrey has established a reputation over the last twenty-plus years, in spite of his disbelief in the importance of place, as one of the wild and wise men of the CA wine scene. He ferments at the natural end of the spectrum, using techniques that hearken back hundreds of years and relying very little on modern technology, much more on gut feeling. It’s a risky approach but one that seems to have worked for him. Just read this excerpt from a piece published in the San Francisco Chronicle a few years back.
"If [Thackrey] succeeds, he gets a wine of unique character. When he fails, he usually puts the wine into his nonvintage blend Pleiades, which he calls a 'disobedient wine.'
'It pays no attention to winemaking rules,' [Thackrey] says of Pleiades. 'I use fruit that's incomplete. Some has good flavor and not much mouthfeel. Some has good mouthfeel and not much flavor.'"
Pleiades is a non-vintage blend of just about everything under the sun, all leftovers apparently. To quote Thackrey again, "People sometimes ask me to tell them the varietal percentages, and I say, 'Give me a break.'" That’s an outlook I generally applaud, though I can’t get on board with the dismissal of the concept of terroir often attributed to him.
In the wake of all the attention paid to the Montalcino scandals of late – Dr. Parzen wrote a good piece on the matter just the other day – it’s important not to lose sight of the fact that there are plenty of wineries out there still making honest wine from good vineyard sites using the traditional, local clone(s) of Sangiovese. Most of it, not surprisingly (at least not to me), comes from relatively modest, hands-on estates, from people who Alice Feiring might refer to as “emotionally connected vignerons,” from wine growers with a true passion for their land.
In the wake of all the attention paid to Tuscany here in the States, it’s also easy to forget that not all Italian Sangiovese comes from Tuscany. Sangiovese, by most accounts, is the most widely planted red grape variety in all of Italy. It’s particularly focused in central Italy. But I’ve tasted examples from as far removed as Lake Garda in the Veneto and enjoyed, just yesterday at the Boutique Wine Collection tasting here in Philly (more on that in the days to come), a simple but eminently quaffable example from Sicily. One of my current favorites when it comes to everyday examples of Sangiovese – of real, expressive Sangiovese – comes from Umbria. It just happens to come from a larger estate, one that might not fit Alice’s description to a tee but one, nonetheless, which has chosen to play not just by the traditional rules but also according to their natural passions for their land. 
Montefalco Rosso, Antonelli San Marco 2004
$17. 13.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Laird & Company, Scobeyville, NJ.
Antonelli’s Montefalco Rosso is typically a blend of 65% Sangiovese with 15% Sagrantino and 10% each of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot. Though Sagrantino must be considered the signature grape of Montefalco, this wine gives proof to the existence of characterful Sangiovese in the region, as Sangiovese certainly dominates the wines profile. Decry it for the inclusion of Cabernet and Merlot if you must, but they’re actually fairly traditional here as opposed to in, say, Montalcino.
In spite of their inclusion, the wine shows a transparent, ruby hue in the glass. Aromas are high-toned, of wild cherries, dried Mediterranean herbs and an attractively subtle touch of freshly tanned cowhide. In the mouth, acidity plays the leading role, focusing a beam of clean, silky red fruit across the middle of the palate. Tannins are fairly gentle and supple. There’s enough innate structure here to stand up to roasted meat dishes but enough versatility to work with a wider range of foods, from hearty pastas to simple, country fare, to sheep’s milk cheeses. On day two, things broadened out a bit with respect to acidity, giving the wine a softer, riper yet no less nuanced feel.
If you’re looking for a Tuscan powerhouse, this ain’t it. Then again, most real Tuscan Sangiovese, most honest Tuscan Sangiovese, isn’t about power. If you’re looking for a lovely example of what Sangiovese can do in Umbria, and what it can do without breaking the $20 threshold, this would be a good place to start.
Riesling feinherb – “feinherb” means something along the lines of “delicately dry” – is a stylistic term that’s started to appear with greater frequency on German wines over the last few years. For many producers, it’s nothing more than a preferred synonym for halbtrocken, a style (or at least a term) that’s started to fall out of favor on the contemporary German market. For others, though, feinherb provides a subtle distinction, crossing over between the richer end of the halbtrocken spectrum (up to 18 grams of RS) yet stopping short of the amount of RS usually found in a fully fruity-style Kabinett, Spätlese or Auslese. A handful of the wineries in this latter group have even been known to produce halbtrocken and feinherb wines from the same vineyard and at the same pradikat level in a single vintage.
Mosel Winninger Hamm Riesling Kabinett feinherb, Weingut Reinhard und Beate Knebel 2005
$19. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Mosel Wine Merchant, Manhasset, NY.
In the simple context of residual sugar, Beate Knebel’s 2005 Winninger Hamm Kabinett feinherb seems to slot right into the feinherb category, most likely at the drier end of its possible spectrum. There’s nothing delicate about it, though. The sprightly minerality, light, fresh fruit and lithe acidity I’ve come to associate with most other Kabinett level wines from the Terrassenmosel aren’t in evidence. Instead, the wine expands across the palate with earthy, pungent flavors of slate, displaying a breadth and darkness of flavor along with the muscular expression of acidity I’d expect more from a Spätlese trocken from the same area. Flavors are less of crisp apples and white peaches than of apricots and baked apples. At 12.5% alcohol – even though Winningen is considered a warm spot – it’s also way up the scale relative to what I’d expect from a Kabinett feinherb (something more along the lines of 10-11% perhaps).
In case the notes above left you wondering, I liked it but it definitely caught me off guard, made me scratch my head a little. My translation: I’d hazard a guess that this is declassified Spätlese, fairly ripe Spätlese at that, fermented long and slow. This is speculation on my part, not backed up by technical specs from the winery or importer, so I’d be more than happy to hear from anyone with more experience with Knebel’s wines.
As promised, here are a few thoughts on the wines we opened at "Pif night" on a recent trip to Ansill. The great thing about BYOs (or BYO nights at normally non-BYO restaurants) is the opportunity they afford to open and enjoy several wines at dinner without running up an astronomical tab. Given the $15 corkage policy on regular evenings at Ansill, I'd be inclined to carry my own juice on any night of the week, not just Tuesday or Sunday.
Vouvray “Cuvée de Silex,” Domaine des Aubuisières (Bernard Fouquet) 2007
$16. 13% alcohol. Stelvin. Importer: Weygandt-Metzler, Unionville, PA.
Where has this been all my life? Really delicious young Vouvray, just about all you could ask for from a wine at this price point. In terms of both aroma and palate, it displayed a classic up-front profile of d’Anjou pear, honeysuckle, honey-laced apples and a touch of succulent stoniness. Its sec-tendre style (just slightly off-dry), along with visceral, shimmering acidity, makes this an ideal aperitif and a solid choice for shellfish dishes (think scallops) or a cheese course. It should also be quite suitable for mid-term aging.
By odd coincidence, given that I had carried this from home and bemoaned the absence of anything interesting on the wine list at Ansill, it turned out that one of my coworkers was sitting in another restaurant about eight blocks to the north, at the very same time, and ordered this exact wine from the restaurant’s list. If their wine list is any indication of what they’re up to, I’ll need to give Fork a revisit sometime soon. It’s a spot I frequented when they first opened but have neglected for many a year now.
Bourgogne Rouge “Cuvée Prestige,” Domaine Philippe Charlopin-Parizot 2005
$32. 13% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Elite Wines, Washington, DC.
I’m not sure how to explain the fact that, to the eye, this looked transparent and pale in the bottle but inexplicably dark in the glass. My other sensory abilities, though, told me that this was probably a little heat whacked. Soft, even a little spongy in texture, with sweet red fruit and an almost Port-like nose. The alcohol stood to one side, the wine to the other, with a gap in between. Hardly the epitome of Burgundian grace. When all was said and done, it was short and simple. Almost certainly a compromised bottle.
Marsannay “Langeroies,” Domaine René Bouvier 2005
$38. 13% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Elite Wines, Lorton, VA.
Sniff. Ahh, that’s more like it. There were some definite modern evocations at play but plenty of interest as well. Oak was evident but well knit, allowing the bright, gamy and wild red-fruited character of the wine to leap up and strut its stuff. Cherry stones, blackberries and thyme all came to mind. Excellent balance and quite food friendly, there was a very attractive sappiness – a sense of green energy – at the wine’s core. Definitely worth seeking out, this is offering plenty of drinking pleasure already but should only get more interesting in a few years. A pretty solid value given the economics of the vintage.
In spite of it often being considered an off night in the restaurant industry, I love going out to eat on Sunday. On the downside, one runs the chance of encountering less than pristinely fresh ingredients or kitchens running without the star chef. On the flipside, though, it’s far more relaxed than dealing with the Friday/Saturday dining frenzy and can be a great way to wrap-up the weekend and kick start the week to come. Choose carefully and the freshness issue should be a moot point. Choose even more carefully and you may find one of an increasing number of spots that are running Sunday night specials.
Ansill Food & Wine (Ansill, for short) is one such spot. Ever since owner David Ansill’s first spot, the widely beloved Pif, faded into the sunset in the summer of 2007, Sunday has been Pif night at Ansill. The regular Ansill menu remains available, while a second menu – a $40, three-course prix fixe option – is added, based on some of the more straightforward French bistro classics that originally put Pif on the Philly dining map. The “Pif night” menu is quite simple really. It offers a choice between four starters, four principal plates and four desserts. Dining with two friends recently afforded the opportunity to sample just about the entire menu, leaving off only the simplest option (salad, steak and ice cream) at each course.





I don’t drink wines from the Mediterranean areas of France with anywhere near the regularity that I once did. It’s only by odd coincidence that I recently had two wines from Minervois within just a few days of each other. Read the literature on these wines from Domaine Khalkhal-Pamiès and Château d’Oupia and you'll find that both estates place themselves firmly in the center of the natural winemaking camp. Natural or not, though, only one of the wines tasted alive.
Minervois "Loriza," Domaine Lauraire des Lys (Khalkhal-Pamiès) 2005
$15. 13.5% alcohol. Cork. A Thomas Calder Selection, Potomac Selections, Landover, MD.
This bottle passed all my usual inspection parameters – a clean bottle and label, perfectly spinning capsule, no run-up or soak-through on the cork, good fill – but the stuff in the bottle tasted heat damaged. While I suppose a lightning fast hot flash could account for it, my gut tells me that this is just in a style that’s not to my liking or, worse yet, a wine made by careless hands. The heat damage could have occurred in the winery, caused by a fermentation allowed to run unchecked or perhaps by a facility ill equipped to fend off the heat and sun of the Minervois climate. Its color is a dark, muddy garnet, matching the soupy, muddled flavors of the wine. Flavors are of caramelized, baked fruit. Think of taking plums that have been allowed to ripen too far, losing not only their acidity but also their freshness. Stew them, add a little cracked pepper and then flambé them in brandy but don’t finish burning off the alcohol. Sound good? Not to me. This wine is lifeless.
Minervois, Château d'Oupia 2006
$12.50. 13% alcohol. Cork. Louis/Dressner, New York, NY.
As with “Loriza,” Oupia’s Minervois passed the spot bottle inspection with flying colors. In stark contrast, though, it also passed the all important palate check. This was full of crunchy, wholesome goodness. Dark and plummy in color, it had the vibrancy of tone that was absent in its stable mate. Aromas of spicy, dark earth and macerated red berry fruit were followed by a mouthful of similar sensations. Mulberries, ripe blueberries, black raspberries and, yes, a little plumminess. Though hardly a high acid wine, there was enough acidity and freshness here to keep the wine’s ample fruit feeling buoyant and snappy. Tannic structure was gentle but firm enough to lend balance. My palate told me that the alcohol was probably closer to 14% as opposed to the stated 13% but, as it was completely in check, I didn’t find it problematic. This is definitely a great value, something I’d be happy to buy by the case (even though I rarely buy anything by the case). If there were more Languedoc wines like it – bright and alive – I think I’d find myself revisiting old habits more often.
The big question -- should I continue with the "Coming Soon" ticker in the sidebar here at MFWT -- has been answered. Polls closed at midnight yesterday and the final votes in our inaugural survey have been tabulated and confirmed as follows:
12 for "It stays"
1 for "It goes"
13 for "I never noticed it in the first place."
That's a whopping 26 votes -- not exactly a stellar voter turnout but I suppose it could have been worse. The majority having gone by a hair to those who'd never even noticed the section would seem to support one commenter's suggestion that most blog readers ignore the stuff in the sidebars and just focus on primary content. However, the 12:1 ratio of for vs. against votes clearly suggests victory for the incumbent practice.
So, fair readers, the Coming Soon section remains, at least until I tire of trying to maintain the illusion of democracy.... My thanks go out to all who participated. Here's a little tunage to help kick-off the post-polling festivities.
As I expect most food and wine bloggers do, I spend a decent amount of my non-blogging on-line time reading other food and wine blogs. The ones that keep me coming back tend to be those that both entertain and educate. One such that I’ve really been digging of late is Amy Lillard’s, La Gramière. It’s named after the property she and her husband purchased in the Côtes du Rhône a couple of years back and the winery they subsequently established on the estate. On her blog, Amy is chronicling the happenings throughout each vintage at La Gramière. It’s one of the most enjoyable winery blogs I’ve come across, neither tiresomely technical nor grossly marketing driven. Instead, it’s honest. Amy’s not afraid to talk about the difficulties faced at the estate. Reading her work gives me a sense of their place, their struggles and their joys, and it often teaches me something along the way. As one might expect given Ms. Lillard’s responsibilities in the vineyards, it’s not updated every day but she always keeps it fresh enough to keep me coming back.
Her recent post on some of the inherent hassles of wine labeling for a diversified distribution chain didn’t just teach me something, it also got me thinking. In it, she details running afoul of US regulatory authorities as the result of a labeling snafu and the subsequent conscription of labor and impromptu assembly line required to get her latest release into the US market.
The offending item: a tiny icon of a pregnant woman overlaid with the classic “no” symbolism of the circle and slash. Many a French winery began placing the symbol on their labels as early as a year or two ago in anticipation of it (or a textual version) being required on all bottles of wine in France as of 2008. It’s very much the equivalent of the Surgeon General’s warning that has appeared on all wine in the US for years.
Even though she doesn’t much like the image, Amy chose the symbol over the prolix version of the warning for its less space-intensive traits, only to find out that the US has now banned any appearance of the symbol on bottles of wine entering the US market. While I’d seen the icon popping up on French bottles over the last year or so and was aware of the new French warning requirements, this was the first I’d heard of the American ban on the appearance of the symbol. Her solution was to scrape the back labels off a sizeable portion of her bottles – an ugly job from the sounds of it – only to reapply new ones that would meet with the demands of US regulatory authorities.
This first got me thinking of how all the other wineries throughout France would deal with the situation. La Gramière had placed the symbol on their rear label. The majority of French wines, when sold on their home market, don’t even have a back label. (The marketing novellas so common on the back of New World wines are still relatively uncommon on the European front.) A winery that sells to multiple nations will almost always have a different rear label for each country, even one each for multiple distributors in larger markets such as the US. But front labels? In my experience, they’re the same for most if not all markets. Put the pieces together and you’ll realize that most French producers who opted for the iconic warning option had to place the symbol right on their front labels.

The photos below are of a few casualties from a dinner with friends. It was actually a decent while back. So long ago, in fact, that as I didn't take notes -- I was too busy cooking and enjoying -- it's way too late to wing it now.


