Henry Bishop, AKA The Wine Sheriff, is a well-known name not only in the Chicago wine trade community, where he was the long-time sommelier at the distinguished restaurant Spiaggia, but to Italian winemakers and growers of Italian varieties throughout the rest of the world.
Henry was interested in authentic, natural wines before anybody ever thought of such things. He also sought out fine wines, for his Italian focused list at Spiaggia, not only from Italy, but throughout the United States finding compelling wines from passionate growers in unlikely places.
Today, Henry has a true battle on his hands as he fights throat cancer. Like so many others that dedicate their lives to the restaurant industry, Henry’s insurance is not all it could be and, obviously, he is unable to work in the service industry while he fights this fight. As we enjoy our good fortune this New Year’s Day it’s also a great opportunity to feel better by helping someone out who has done so much for the beverage we love and those who make and enjoy it. Donations to help Henry in his fight can be made by clicking on this link.
Italian Makers of Prosecco Seek Recognition - NYTimes.com
It's hard to believe that a simple, charming wine like Prosecco needs protection, but it's true. Once normally dependable, the surge of popularity for bubbly Prosecco has prompted the invasion of an ocean of sparkling wines under that name that hold little charm - Proseccos main reason for existence. Recently I bought a bottle for $5.99 at Trader Joe's and was reminded of the truth that you can't get something for nothing. As New Year's Eve approaches remember an extra couple of bucks a bottle will buy you a much better wine. Let's hope the growers of Valdobbiadene succeed in protecting their good name.
Italian Makers of Prosecco Seek Recognition - NYTimes.com
It's hard to believe that a simple, charming wine like Prosecco needs protection, but it's true. Once normally dependable, the surge of popularity for bubbly Prosecco has prompted the invasion of an ocean of sparkling wines under that name that hold little charm - Proseccos main reason for existence. Recently I bought a bottle for $5.99 at Trader Joe's and was reminded of the truth that you can't get something for nothing. As New Year's Eve approaches remember an extra couple of bucks a bottle will buy you a much better wine. Let's hope the growers of Valdobbiadene succeed in protecting their good name.
Italian Makers of Prosecco Seek Recognition - NYTimes.com
It's hard to believe that a simple, charming wine like Prosecco needs protection, but it's true. Once normally dependable, the surge of popularity for bubbly Prosecco has prompted the invasion of an ocean of sparkling wines under that name that hold little charm - Proseccos main reason for existence. Recently I bought a bottle for $5.99 at Trader Joe's and was reminded of the truth that you can't get something for nothing. As New Year's Eve approaches remember an extra couple of bucks a bottle will buy you a much better wine. Let's hope the growers of Valdobbiadene succeed in protecting their good name.
The Dungeness Crab season along the Oregon and Northern California coast is something I look forward to every year. They’re so succulent that dipping them in butter is redundant.
With this lusciousness in mind, I selected the 2004 Audrey et Christian Binner Pinot Gris for what I knew were going to be some great crabs. The crabs exceeded even my highest expectations and were perhaps the best I ever tasted (I think I say that every year), but the wine only reminded me why I buy so few Alsatian wines these days. The Binner was out-and-out sweet and was cloying with the crab. Cloying was not the flavor match I was going for – rich and concentrated yes, but cloying no. While the Binner would be outstanding with a cheese course, it was terrible with crab.
Alsatian wines used to be one of my go-to wines. They were always balanced with a firm, complex minerality No more, you’re more likely to find ripe apricot than firm mineral in the wines and the various varieties have started to lose their individuality and meld into one unctuous sameness.
The thing that bothers me most about the sweetening of Alsace is they don’t give you a hint on the label except for their ultra-rich dessert wines Vendage Tardive and Sélection de Grains Nobles. But for everything else, if they’re going to continue making wines like this (as they surely will considering the high points they get) they should start doing like the Germans do and tell us on the label how sweet they are.
The Binner is a wonderful wine and my remaining two bottles will be finding themselves bonding with some Munster instead of clashing with some crab. It would be a perfect wine if they only put a little more information on the label.
I was a guest, which is by far the best way to attend tastings like this, although as this was a dinner, it might be better to call it a drinking. Be assured I didn’t spit once. It never crossed my mind. One thing drinking old wines confirms is they don’t make’em like they used to. For better or worse, they’re different – more delicate and less alcoholic. It was a great evening with outstanding food, wine and company. What else is great wine for? Many thanks to Dr. Mike Dragutsky for inviting me to join in. Below are the wines with some short comments.
1990 Cristal Brut, Magnum – A reminder of how great Crystal used to be. Toasty, creamy, long and very complex. Cristal today is a mere shadow of this wine.
1985 Kistler Chardonnay, Carneros – Rich and powerful, but a bit passed its prime.
1995 Puligny Montrachet, Enseigners, Verget, Magnum – Unfortunately showing quite a bit of oxidation already, but still quite exciting with a firm mineral backbone and great length. Drink up soon.
2005 Sea Smoke Pinot Noir, Ten, Santa Rita Hills – A powerhouse pinot with a lot of new oak.
1988 Bonnes Mares, Comte de Vogue – Not showing well at first, this bottle ended up by my place so I got to go back to it several times. By the end of the evening it opened into a graceful beauty with layers and layers of length and personality.
1997 Chateau Pichon Lalande, Pauillac, Magnum and 1997 Chateau Lynch Bages, Pauillac – I’ll comment on these two lovely, elegant and totally mature wines together as they dramatically illustrated how much better wines age in magnum. The Pichon Lalande was much fresher with brighter fruit and depth. These wines show how pretty wines can be from lighter years.
1989 Chateau Pichon Baron, Pauillac – Still velvety and rich with an expansive bouquet and a long seductive finish. Twenty years old is a great place for classic Bordeaux from excellent vintages.
1988 Chatau Guraud Larose, St. Julien – Silky, delicate and perfumed. Really lovely with an almost caressing texture. Drink up now while it’s so pretty.
1961 Chateau Bouscaut, Graves (Pessac-Leognan now) – Just a wonderful old wine that is still showing a touch of fruit freshness amid all the coffee, porcini and spice. With that nice touch of that earthy minerality that defines Graves. Long and graceful.
1988 Petrus, Pomerol – Wine of the night. An elegant, graceful wonder. Svelte and incredibly long and complex. A wonderful wine.
1979 Chateau Lafite Rothschild, Pauillac – The definition of elegance. A perfectly proportioned wine. Subtly complex and endlessly interesting. As usual, a perfect Bordeaux.
1977 Taylor, Oporto – Will this wine ever mature? Still young, fruity, dark, sweet and powerful. Just plain great Port that will age forever.
She’s a rabble rouser and contrarian who was tossed off the Robert Parker Forum. Sorry, I always get that wrong, I mean the Mark Squires Forum. Tried and convicted by Mr. Squires for the ultimate sin: asking questions - Alice Feiring is persona non grata at eRobertParker.com.
For those who have met Alice Feiring in person this image of her as someone who needs to be banned from Parker’s, crap, I mean Squire’s Forum is hard to reconcile with the reality of the woman herself.
Alice floats into a room like the dancer she is and like the wines she loves. Diminutive with an explosion of long, wavy red hair, she seduces all comers with an inviting mixture of confidence and shyness. Soon she charms her audience into actually listening to what she has to say, which is a lot. Alice’s delicate voice is one of the few beacons of light for wine producers dedicated to making wines of a place, or, as she calls them natural wines.
Wines that have a sense of place are an endangered species and Alice is out to prevent them from disappearing from the earth. Putting her natural shyness aside she has become a veritable Woman of La Mancha as she swings her sword at the corporate windmills of modern winemaking: cultured yeasts, new oak, over-ripe grapes and the long list of additives and manipulations available to today’s winemakers.
This Christmas there are few more important gifts that you could give your wine loving friends than Alice’s book, The Battle for Wine and Love or How I Saved the World from Parkerization. Alice’s voice may seem small compared to the bloated wines, points and writers at The Wine Spectator and The Wine Advocate, but her message is more meaningful and honest. With no other agenda than what she believes, Alice writes about wines made by the most passionate of winemakers for the most passionate of wine drinkers. While conformity of taste is the message of so many wine publications, Alice celebrates the diversity of the wine world.
Alice, like the wines she loves and the winemakers who make them, is not for everyone, but for those whose minds and palates are open to the experience she is the most important American wine writer I can think of as what she is fighting to preserve is so valuable.
It may be too late to save the world from Parkerization, but for those who care, through Alice’s looking glass they’ll discover a wonderland of wines.
I love the country wines of Italy, France and Spain. Unassuming, un-oaked, personality soaked bargains that make the most of simple meals. There are so many of these wines available for under $20 it is astounding – especially considering how weak the Dollar has been for the last few years.
It has been a national embarrassment for many, many years that American wine producers have been unable to produce anything of interest in the bargain basement. What could be our excuse on the climate blessed West Coast? There should be an ocean of great bargains. Instead all we can muster is a sea of cookie cutter, industrial wines with, at best, no personality or, at worst, an undrinkable gloppy-ness. Clean they are, but that’s it.
Being the slow learner that I am, I picked up a bottle of 2006 Petite Sirah from Vinum Cellars in Clarksburg. I thought what the heck: Petite sirah? from Clarksburg? That could be good, a no-name variety from a no-name region. After all, why spoofulate up a petite sirah? Put me in the corner with a dunce cap. You’d think I’d learn. What did I get? A purple glop of something that barely resembled wine. Undrinkable and inexcusable – even at $9 a bottle.
As much as I hate to write about wines I don’t like and that it’s perhaps unfair to single out this wine when there are so many like it, it’s just such a waste to make purple glop from grapes that could give us good wine for everyday drinking.
The fact is that you rarely get decent American wine until you cross the $20 threshold. The choices under $20 seem to be purple grape marmalade glop and/or neutral corporate wine. By the by, often these types overlap.
So I have put myself in the corner with a dunce cap writing over and over again, “I will be good” and not buy American wines for everyday drinking. For some bizarre reason to get a decent inexpensive wine I have find it from producers over 4,000 miles away.
I love the country wines of Italy, France and Spain. Unassuming, un-oaked, personality soaked bargains that make the most of simple meals. There are so many of these wines available for under $20 it is astounding – especially considering how weak the Dollar has been for the last few years.
It has been a national embarrassment for many, many years that American wine producers have been unable to produce anything of interest in the bargain basement. What could be our excuse on the climate blessed West Coast? There should be an ocean of great bargains. Instead all we can muster is a sea of cookie cutter, industrial wines with, at best, no personality or, at worst, an undrinkable gloppy-ness. Clean they are, but that’s it.
Being the slow learner that I am, I picked up a bottle of 2006 Petite Sirah from Vinum Cellars in Clarksburg. I thought what the heck: Petite sirah? From Clarksburg? That could be good, a no-name variety from a no-name region. After all, why spoofulate up a Clarksburg petite sirah? Put me in the corner with a dunce cap. You’d think I’d learn. What did I get? A purple glop of something that barely resembled wine. Undrinkable and inexcusable – even at $9 a bottle.
As much as I hate to write about wines I don’t like and that it’s perhaps unfair to single out this wine when there are so many like it, it’s just such a waste to make purple glop from grapes that could give us good wine for everyday drinking.
The fact is that you rarely get decent American wine until you cross the $20 threshold. The choices under $20 seem to be purple grape marmalade glop and/or neutral corporate wine. By the by, often these types overlap.
So I have put myself in the corner with a dunce cap writing over and over again, “I will be good” and not buy American wines for everyday drinking. For some bizarre reason to get a decent inexpensive wine I have to find it from producers over 4,000 miles away.
I make the same New Year’s resolution year after year. That is to ignore The Wine Spectator Top 100 Wines of the Year. It’s too ridiculous to get worked up about. America is a country that lives on bad food so it’s a waste of energy to get upset about the absurdity that is their Top 100. What’s a little more bad taste.
Yet I always had this little fantasy of blind tasting The Wine Spectator editors on their Top 100. It would be all to easy as the results would be guaranteed to embarrass them. Like shooting fish in a barrel.
So every year I resolve to ignore this farce, but something always seems to remind me of its fundamental dishonesty. This year it was the Top 100 in the San Francisco Chronicle. The reason it’s so frustrating is that The Chronicle got is so right, while The Spectator gets it so wrong. The Chronicle has no absurd rankings or points, but only a list of their favorite wines of various varieties. In other words a logical and responsible point of view. Something in sharp contrast to the arbitrary Spectator rankings.
While we never may get the Spectator editors into the barrel so we can take pot shots at them, I guess it’s important to remember every year when The Wine Spectator’s Top 100 comes out that there is something fishy about it.
I make the same New Year’s resolution year after year. That is to ignore The Wine Spectator Top 100 Wines of the Year. It’s too ridiculous to get worked up about. America is a country that lives on bad food so it’s a waste of energy to get upset about the absurdity that is their Top 100. What’s a little more bad taste.
Yet I always had this little fantasy of blind tasting The Wine Spectator editors on their Top 100. It would be all to easy as the results would be guaranteed to embarrass them. Like shooting fish in a barrel.
So every year I resolve to ignore this farce, but something always seems to remind me of its fundamental dishonesty. This year it was the Top 100 in the San Francisco Chronicle. The reason it’s so frustrating is that The Chronicle got is so right, while The Spectator gets it so wrong. The Chronicle has no absurd rankings or points, but only a list of their favorite wines of various varieties. In other words a logical and responsible point of view. Something in sharp contrast to the arbitrary Spectator rankings.
While we never may get the Spectator editors into the barrel so we can take pot shots at them, I guess it’s important to remember every year when The Wine Spectator’s Top 100 comes out that there is something fishy about it.
As a unabashed lover of good pizza, I have often ranted about how hard it is to find a decent pizza in the United States. It’s much easier than it used to be, but it’s still tough. It’s odd that while pizza and Chinese restaurants may be the easiest to find, that it’s also harder to find good Chinese food and pizza than anything else.
What ruins most American pizzas is that we put much too much crap on the top. I guess that’s to be expected in a country where, as Bill Maher noted a few weeks ago, our favorite hamburger topping is another hamburger. We destroy pizza by putting two much cheese on it, which turns it into a mushy, stringy chewy glop. Oddly enough they usually put really bad cheese on pizza. It confuses me how adding more of something bad would make people think it was better.
We have the same problem with our wines, which we also bury under too much “cheese”. The cheese in this case is over-ripe, over-extracted and over-oaked. These things have the same impact on a wine that too much cheese has on a pizza. The once crisp crust is turned into mush.
I was reminded how bad most pizza is as, having moved this week, I was still without my pots and pans so I grabbed a carry-out pizza at Whole Foods. This was not a great pizza by any means, but it was a very good pizza and better than 99% of the pizza sold in this country. That the pizza at a grocery store is better than a pizzeria, whose specialty is pizza, is inexcusable. The crust was wonderfully crisp even though I took it home to eat. A bottle of wine I grabbed to go with it was also wonderfully crisp and unburdened by any “cheese”. The Barbera Oltrepo Pavese from Cantine Pirovino is less than ten bucks and is mercifully non-vintaged, as more wines in this price range should be. It is young, fresh and bright with a wonderful bite of acidity that was just as crisp as the crust. I really enjoy simple, pretty wines such as this with simple, but delicious weekday fare. As with cheese, more is not always better.
Last weekend I headed southbound down I-5, but it was no vacation. I was moving from the Willamette Valley to the Napa Valley. I was migrating from pinot noir to cabernet sauvignon. It was less than a ten hour drive, but it’s worlds apart.
Cabernet and pinot may both be wines, but they have little in common other than being red. Cabernet’s backbone is tannin, while pinot’s is acidity - at least that’s what nature intended. The culture between the Willamette Valley and the Napa Valley is also a contrast. The hippie winemaking ashram of Oregon versus the corporate powerhouse of Napa. For me it is another step on a winemaking journey: three vintages in Italy, three in Oregon and now on to Napa.
I’ve learned many things on this odyssey. First and foremost is that your palate is not a machine that can be calibrated, but something always in motion. Something that is influenced and defined by the wines you are drinking at the moment. After three years of drinking young nebbiolo, the the wines of Oregon seemed unstructured. After three years of Oregon pinot the wines of Napa seemed bombastic. Yet after a month of drinking them my palate has adjusted and opened so that I also appreciate their power and concentration. As in all art, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. The fashion today is to rank wines with an exactitude that is absurd, but true connoisseurs understand that it’s the full rainbow of diversity that makes wine such a compelling beverage.
Wine is a beautiful, creative thing that brings not only happiness, but health and invites us to sit back and appreciate life and each other. Those that define it by points deny this cultural and aesthetic beauty. Those that rank wines don’t give up their aesthetic distance when they taste. I do.
So this is my first week as a full time resident of Napa, a place I’ve visited many, many times over almost three decades. It’s a new start in familiar surroundings. I hope regular readers will forgive the sporadic posts over the last two weeks during my move and transition into my new job, but now I’m back to the the blogging grindstone. I’ll not be commenting on California cabernet for obvious reasons, but will be increasing my commentary on exciting wines of America’s Northwest as I separate myself from day-to-day relationships with wineries there. As always you’ll find extensive commentary on the wines of Europe, which I love.
Now you’ll find my professional attentions focused on Cornerstone Cellars, which produces two cabernet sauvignon wines, a Napa Valley and a Howell Mountain, crafted by an extraordinary winemaker, Celia Masyczek. So my blogging focus will be on everything but Napa Cab.
I became a wine professional in 1980. Now as I approach my 30th year immersed in all things wine and food I can only count my blessings. Most of all I treasure the diversity of taste that I have been privileged to experience. That experience has taught me to dig deep to understand the character of wine and those who make it. With the same passion I took on nebbiolo and pinot noir I now focus on cabernet sauvignon.
Appreciating each wine and wine region for both what it is and what it isn’t is what wine appreciation is all about. I’m about to truly appreciate the wines of the Napa Valley.
My old friend Tom Hyland is an accomplished wine writer, photographer and wine educator. He also is one of the most insightful writers on the wines of Italy and in particular the great wines of Piemonte. Unbeliveably he did not have a blog, but finanlly Tom has entered the blogosphere with his Reflections on Wine Blog. Having known Tom for more than two decades I can assure you it will be well worth reading. You'll find Tom's new blog at the link below.
Reflections on Wine