Doktor Weingolb

It's me again, back from California, mopping up the remains of WBW 44 by finding those tasting notes I omitted from my last post.

Since that post I've been down to San Diego, up to LA, and back to San Francisco, eating amazing food all the way, and probably gaining some extra weight after these two full weeks of eating out (that's okay -- that's what airplane bugs are for).

FOOD SLOW AND FANTASTIC, WINE EXPENSIVE AND LESS FINE

When visiting California, the wine is, in every case except at the carbon-footprint-reducing Getty Center Restaurant in Los Angeles, international in scope. The Getty takes a stand by offering only local wine. So it was at the Getty that I launched into a half bottle of Qupé Syrah from the Central Coast. It made me think more of Australia than Rhône -- whose grape varieties this winery has claimed to dedicate itself to. It was no Château Montelena (an exceptional wine that deserves a separate post here), but the 2006 was not devoid of charm either. In the end, it was like too many Californians I drink: too expensive and not my style. Or, for short: $$$, NMS

(I must've started sounding like a broken record saying this because while in San Francisco someone handed me a glass of Sanford Pinot Noir Vin Gris from Santa Barbara (the first winery shown in the movie Sideways) and it was an extreme counterpoint to Qupés everywhere, yet it that did little to improve my notion of the charm in West Coast wine.)

Oh well. There are bigger and brighter things for someone like me to gravitate to when in California. Like the image above taken from the Bay Area's Blue Bottle Cafe, a place that epitomizes the movement I might call next-wave drip coffee. This movement extends from coffees made from French presses (Bodums) to Eva Solo brewers (individually filtered cups), to vacuum siphons, Chemex coffeemakers and the crazy Rube Goldberg thing pictured above that uses gravity, no heat and a little time to brew ice coffee. And finally there's the ultimate: the Clover. And California's got more retail Clovers than any state in the union.

THE CLOVERS ARE COMING

One coffee from a Clover coffee brewer had me thinking that my favourite espresso from a Synesso machine was all wet. Perhaps not better, but so different.

If a caffè macchiato is like a Tannat-walloping Madiran, a Clover drip coffee is an elegant Irouléguy -- delivering the same goods ultimately but in an aromatic and charming way with a huge front and mid palate and a gently bitter finish. Irouléguy wines are what I want to drink at dinner this summer; Clover coffees are how I want my summer mornings to start.

Unfortunately, the closest Clover I know of is at the Dalhousie Bridgehead in Ottawa. I'm sure they are lurking in the streets of our towns, ready to spring up soon. Or else I'll be springing up in Ottawa. Watch for them/me.

So wine analogies aren't a theme on this blog, wine is. Without further ado:

NOTES ON MY WBW 44 CHINONS



Please click on an image for links to additional product information.

Alain Lorieux Expression Chinon 2005

Eyes: Colour is deep purple.

Nose: Licorice and stewed fruit.

Mouth: Creamy and very aromatic; pithy but juicy too with a nice bitter note. Very tannic. Characteristic "green pepper" but it's more leafy, musky and minerally than the stereotype might suggest. A lean angular structure -- not too overwhelming on the palate, with med body but dryiing tannins leave a strong impression.

Stomach: With food, it's a spicy and alluring dinner wine. Tuna and fresh tomato and herb pasta with lots of olive oil is perfect with it. This echoes the vegetal elements of the wine. A lively acidity support this Chinon at the table.

Alain & Pascal Lorieux, Cravant-les-Coteaux, Chinon, France. 13.5%.

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Bernard Baudry Les Grezeaux Chinon 2004

Eyes: Colour is bright fuschia, lighter around the rim and vibrant purple at the centre.

Nose: Dried herbs, alcohol and fruit compote -- a very sharp and astringent perfume.

Mouth: Much fruit, black cherry with its pits covered in cream and with a bright acidity. Mineral and tannic -- a typical combination that conveys the earthy spice of the Loire terroir. Smoothness on the finish, average length, light to medium body overall.

Stomach: A juicy cut of beef and mushrooms with thyme and orange and yellow peppers. A more alcoholic impression than most (even though it is a quite low 13) and as an outcome of that, seems to demand heartier fare.

Coteau de Sonnay, Cravant-les-Coteaux, Chinon, France. 13%.

The first wine I tasted in California was a Chinon.

You don't hear that too often. But maybe TV Wine Library will help make it sound a little less out of the ordinary.

I am now spending my third day in California and I still have yet to taste a Californian wine. This is odd. Forces are working against me holding out much longer. Like last night at San Francisco's Nopa. I ordered a Gigondas and I get word back that there are none left -- I should have the Zinfandel instead. It's comparable in price, my server indicated.

But there's no price I am willing to pay for American wine.

Around $20 for a half bottle of Chinon at Restaurant Clementine (Inner Richmond) on Wine Blogging Wednesday? You bet.

Luckily, the one-country wine list at Delfina, which is on 18th at Guerrero, is not all American, it's Italian and southern Italian at that, which is utterly marvelous.



CHINON? MAIS OUI!

The two Chinons I tasted in preparation for WBW 44 are better than any wine I've tasted this week. Could it be because of the terroir? Could it just be something in the grapes? In the winemaking culture there? Like Gary claims, I think Chinon and its use of the Cabernet Franc grape got a good thing going on. I try not to over-analyze it.

I especially will not over-analyze it today, in the middle of my vacation (I just happen to have found a San José-bound bus issuing tickets that come with free WiFi (don't you love tech alley?) I have lots of notes to publish for WBW 44 but they will have to wait till later.

Until then, take a look at the labels on three very lovely Chinon reds. And here's a hint. The one shown in the middle of this post is the cheapest one and the best one. Here's another hint: You don't need a tasting note to run out and buy what you see pictured above "CHINON? MAIS OUI" -- or Would you like a Chinon? ... Of course you would! -- so just go out and get some.

I'm not sure why I went out to try and buy the entire Thierry Germain catalogue. Actually I do know why.

After admiring Joe's donation to our Cabernet Franc tasting -- La Marginale -- I realized that BrooklynGuy recommends other cuvées from Thierry Germain. Germain, the wine maker at Domaine des Roches Neuves, also produces L'Insolite, Terres Chaudes (the clickable bottle image shown above), as well as a self-titled domaine cuvée, their entry-level wine. I couldn't find L'Insolite, but managed to bag the other two.

I liked the Terres Chaudes 2005 quite a bit. (I preferred it to the cheaper Cuvée Thierry Germain 2004 -- coincidentally if you swap vintages you can get BrooklynGuy's take on these two, as he tasted the Terres Chaudes 04 and Cuvée Thierry Germain 05.)

Domaine des Roches Neuves Terres Chaudes 2005

Eyes: Dark purple hue with a fuschia rim. Exhibits tears and a lot of viscosity in the glass. Inky depth of colour. NOTE: Sediment is in this wine -- quite a bit -- so it needs a thorough decant.

Nose: Low intensity nose. I thought this would develop more but even on the next night is was subdued. Some licorice and, I think, alcohol.

Mouth: Sour cherry evolving to darker red berries. A rootiness suggestive of star anise takes over to make this Cabernet Franc an interesting specimen that is neither distinctly fruity nor vegetal. Some green pepper and mineral with a lovely creamy note. Drying, crispy and with a solid body and sound tannin. A fine finish with great length. Style very much similar to the 2003 La Marginale, yet I'd encourage people to treat it much more like a "drink now" wine despite the fact that it's in its youthful stage. It's good like this!

Stomach: I've read that you should grill food with this wine but my braised rôti de boeuf (a bas palette or bottom blade roast slow cooked with turnip or carrots and garlic was totally delicious as an accompaniment. Saumur-Champigny earns its title as the food-friendliest appellation of France so you could serve it with almost anything. Since this wine is more substantial fare than most bistro bottles, I would advise you try something richly textured, slightly fatty, somewhat rustic and intensely flavoured. Rôti de bas palette garni, it is!

BAS PALETTE ON PARADE



Varrains, France. 13%.

It was a huge pleasure to partake is this substantial (and revealing) tasting of some fine Cabernet Franc wines.

By teaming up with fellow blogger Joe, I was able to stage a worthwhile look at this varietal in two New World and three Old World examples: from Napa Valley's Stags Leap District, from Niagara Peninsula's Glenlake Vineyard and three from Loire appellations, including Thierry Germain's Domaine des Roches Neuves cuvée La Marginale, which sadly is no longer available for sale in Quebec.

Thanks to Joe for extracting that bottle from his cellar. He also brought the Napa Cab produced by Steltzner Vineyards. I provided the Chinon and Niagara wines, plus a unique Loire red blend from Vincent Girault at Château Gaillard in Mesland, just to get our tasting hats on. Here's how I saw it all go down.

Château Gaillard Vieilles Vignes Touraine-Mesland 2000

This wine was not tasted blind. It was, as I mentioned, our warm-up wine. From the 2000 vintage, this has got to be the cheapest oldest wine you can buy at the SAQ. Adding to the intrigue was a percentage Gamay that the winemaker claimed to blend into this seven-year-old version of Cabernet Franc. How would this taste? A lot like Malbec actually, and that's of course because Côt was the third blending grape involved, perhaps the primary one. The Gamay provided a squelch of fruity tartness, the Cabernet seemed to add some rich cocoa notes. But it mostly seemed to be an expression most characteristic of Malbec or Gamay than Cabernet. (Several nights later this wine is still hanging on nicely with some zip). For $19, this bottle from 2000 is a rather odd delivery of an otherwise friendly and fun quaffer.

Château Gaillard: Certified organic and biodynamic. Vincent Girault, Mesland, Loir et Cher, France. 12%.

Charles Joguet Clos du Chêne Vert Chinon 2002

To me this was tell-tale Chinon, and the easiest to separate from the rest of the wines. It was decanted and definitely needs it. Even after a half-hour, it was still settling in. On the nose I first got cassis and cream. It seemed one-note on the palate, but that was still changing in the glass. On the palate it became less strict, offering luscious notes of tomato and green pepper. It is a typically vegetal wine with strong earthy/mineral elements so it's not surprising it goes so well with food. When I served beef tenderloin, seasoned potatoes wedges and garlic-steamed broccoli (which, perhaps unfortunately, only occurred after the wines were revealed), this Cabernet really showed its stuff. It ushered in the meal like none of the others, a perfect partner for steak and frites or for simmered beef and fresh vegetables. (I think that only food with really spicy or sweet elements would prevent this wine from shining as bright -- this wine definitely has a style shared with the ultimate dining wines.)

Clos du Chêne Vert: Charles Joguet, Sazilly, France. 12.5%.

Thierry Germain Domaine des Roches Neuves La Marginale Saumur Champigny 2003

This was the first wine we decanted and the first wine I tasted blind. By the time I stopped taking notes it was still baffling me, especially as to its true potential. This wine was so solid with so much depth that I felt the best reading on what this wine really amounts to could only come years down the road. It had a sharp nose rendering a complex bouquet. On the palate it was equally complex and powerful. The finish delivers admirably huge tannins -- definitely an aspect worth revisiting in the future. If it was a bit tight in the early stages, a palpable acidity was shown so I see no reason why it wouldn't last a decade or more. The fruit reminded me of Saumur fruit and terroir, though with many times the body and many times the lift. Ultimately, this convinced me that it was the other French wine, though clearly more New World-ish than the Chinon. A revelation -- but it manhandled my meal a bit. If only I could save my dinner and then reheat it with this wine ten years from now.

La Marginale: Thierry Germain, Varrains, France. 13%.

Steltzner Vineyards Stags Leap District Napa Valley 2004

Here is where I lost my way. The nose of this wine presented grenadine and spices and a somewhat understated aroma of leather. This was soft and alluring and was channeling the French wines I drink almost every night. On the palate, it was sweetish and offered less intrigue than the nose. It was more heavily oaked and yet much lighter than the Marginale -- which is a far from ideal combination. Especially with food, it ends up generating vanilla and so it comes off cloying. You might sense that it has peaked and is already receding. So my guess was that this was the 2000 Niagara wine rather than the Napa three-year-old. I was wrong. Surprise! I really could not tell at all that this was an over-alcoholized American wine of 15%. Credit to Steltzner, though as the night went on and I revisited it after dessert the alcohol was suddenly unmasked. The Napa zap! But too late -- I was fooled. To me this was the most demure and attractive nose of the bunch but it took me spiraling downhill from there. If I had it again, I wouldn't decant.

Steltzner: Napa, California, U.S.A. 15%.

Hillebrand Estates Glenlake Vineyards Showcase Niagara Peninsula 2000

Alcoholized and highly evolved in the glass, despite not decanting this bottle. This wine is oxidized and was rebottled for return.

This post mirrors what Joe already published over on Joe's Wine. But unlike Joe, I am not including my notes for the Niagara bottle (and I instead mentioned the Gaillard, even though it was not tasted blind). I'm taking the Niagara wine back. This is my decision. Joe wrote me that he "didn't find it to be something that needs returning," but he understood my feelings. The fact is I had tasted the Niagara wine earlier this year and wrote glowing notes on it here. But it showed up at our tasting showing seriously aged fruit and oxidation and this was merely a matter of weeks after purchase from the winery. How disappointing.

MY LESSONS LEARNED

But I think my real disappointment was that during our tasting's blind phase, I didn't guess correctly. I observed yet I let a favourable memory of the Niagara bottle and a distaste of American wine dictate my guesses. This was because I mistook the strength of oxidizing elements on the nose for the presence of high levels of alcohol. I was shocked to see this actually revealed as Niagara. It made prefect sense to the neutral bystander, and in hindsight. This wine was much older, and had my observations been interpreted correctly, I was there. But I was swayed despite -- perhaps paradoxically because of -- the fact that we were doing them blind.

Lesson 1: Blind tastings are best performed on bottles that you have not tasted before or you'll be tempted to outsmart your own blind observations with memory and personal response, which is quite disappointing because it defeats the whole purpose.

Or rather, in blind testings, it's best to forget the past. I think my tasting partner Joe had a firm handle on this aspect. He had tasted the Steltzner before. Experience is knowledge but it's synthesized knowledge -- be advised to leave out individual bottles experiences!

"No need to be disappointed," said Joe in the postmortem. "It shows that the blind worked, and you correctly separated the old world from the new." [It's true I did ID this and the other French wines correctly].

"The Canuck wine was a bit tired -- Cab Franc, probably from younger vines than all of the others, is not going to keep forever... note that the bottle to bottle variability probably increases over time. Your previous experience was eight months ago at the end of a wine's life -- perhaps not that much of a surprise they were quite different?" surmised Joe.

OTHER LESSON LEARNED

Lesson 2: Is it hard to keep track of wine consumption at a blind tasting while it is happening! I don't think I'll ever figure out a way to better keep track when there's so much set before me. Perhaps proper tasting glasses would help?

Lesson 3: Blind tastings with "table talk" can sway evaluation as much as "drinking the label" does in non-blind tastings. Joe and I had some table talk, but not much. We didn't discuss conclusions until the end. And besides, what little table talk there was had almost no effect since the wines were positioned blind as well as tasted blind. This prevented a shared order of wines between to the two of us so table talk comments could not be attributed to a particular wine and therefore sway tasting opinions.

Lesson 4: I did not assess colour in the tasting because I thought it would too easily reveal the wine, given the broad four-year gap in cuvée vintages. The lighting was also poor so I let Joe turn up the house lights while I put the final touches on dinner (see Joe's notes for proper scoring). But the fact is that the wines' colour didn't reveal much at all, no matter how hard I tried to read them.

Since I've been called up this weekend to taste in the big leagues with the Caveman, aka Bill Zacharkiw, newly installed Montreal Gazette wine columnist, I've decided it's time I do some red wine reviews and kick things up to high gear.

I'm not sure this post quite hits that gear. It's a tasting of polymerized spider gland secretion, with some Loire Cabernet wine mixed in.

Spiders? And caves? It's Hallowe'en all the sudden. If you're scratching your head at this point, check yesterday's post while I talk about Caveman Bill some more...

Bill writes The Caveman's Wine Blog, though between being the head sommelier at Relais-Château L'Eau à la Bouche and running Restaurant Fonduementale, it's his Gazette column that sees most of his wine writing these days.

Bill has so much knowledge of privately imported wine in Quebec, he's like his own version of the SAQ, the state-run agency in charge of selling all wine in the province.

Bill isn't fond of industrially produced international varietals; he's keen on organic, biodynamic wines from independent producers who have a real sense of place. My buddy Brooklynguy will especially appreciate his recent take on Beaujolais:

"I am a fanatic for Fleurie, and have yet to find one at the SAQ that cuts it. In the coming months, the Morgon and Fleurie from Domaine Vissoux will be available at the SAQ, and a couple of others."

Needless to say, I'm fully chuffed to meet this guy. And while Bill is an amazing supporter of fine whites and says that when given the chance he would choose to spend more money on a bottle of white wine rather than red, I wanted to get out of my summer rut of white wine reviews with this post.

The fact is that I haven't made any substantial tasting notes on red wine since the months of April and May when I was preparing to host WBW 33, and since then I haven't done much of anything.

Well, my intent was good but my execution was not. As I displayed yesterday, my tasting notes for today's bottle are potentially affected by tainted wine glasses that had near-invisible layers of cobweb across the top of the bowl.

I won't be surprised if I am turfed out of the Caveman tasting, however for sake of the exercise, I'm still publishing my notes in full! So here they are...

Cave de Saumur Lieu-dit Les Vignoles Saumur Champigny 2004

VENDOR'S PROFILE

Price: $15.95
Vintages #: 662585 (Joe will like to know that this is another Ontario-bought bottle)
Sugar Content: D (Who measures sugar content but the LCBO?)
Release Date: Mar 31, 2007

Description: Created in 2002, Alliance Loire includes seven Loire valley cooperatives like Cave de Saumur and comprise 700 vignerons and 3,600 hectares of vines. Of particular interest is their range of wines called Lieu-dit. Each wine in this category comes from a single vineyard, the characteristics of which are noted on the bottle label. Lieu-dit Les Vignoles Saumur Champigny, a red made from Cabernet Franc, is a particularly good example. [Paraphased excerpt from Jacqueline Friedrich's The Wines of France, 2006]

MY TASTING NOTES

Eyes: This unfiltered wine throws lots of sediment as my photo of the empty bottle demonstrates. The wine colour is a luscious dark ruby to purple.

Nose: An interesting animal nose (perhaps due to the spider) with plenty of grenadine. Gravelly tannins, vegetal green pepper profile typical to this genre.

Mouth: Leafy and dry. Nice weight on the palate though not complex. A surprising meatiness and fattiness makes this wine edgier than most Cabernet Franc I've tasted from Saumur.

Stomach: This is a really drying red dinner wine with a neat finish, perfect as a table wine. I had it with leg of lamb and vegetable couscous.

Online: www.vino2vino.com/wine/36871
On the bottle label: "Le terroir de calcaire sableux lui apporte rondeur et richesse."

St-Cyr en Bourg, Maine & Loire, France. 13%.

After missing the last installment of WBW because of technical difficulties, I found myself on vacation for WBW 32 (Guess what readers? WBW 33 is going to be on MY schedule since I'm hosting -- hope you'll perticipate with me in May).

Anyhow, despite being on vacation for the last 12 days, I managed to get an entry ready for WBW 32. At the time I prepared it I thought did some good scrambling and interesting blogging. But there is a but. I will wait to broach it at the end of this post.

The folks at the Wine Cask came up with a keen idea for today's event. It took a little extra time and effort: open two wines that in some way have a regular/reserve relationship with each other. The big brother and the baby brother, as I like to call them.

I found two Niagara Peninsula wines that suited this challenge. (After all, I was in Niagara for part of my vacation.) Rather than regular/reserve, they were basic brand/higher-end brand. An entry-level Bordeaux-style wine from Hillebrand Estates Winery and a fairly similarly styled effort issued under the winery's more prestigious label called Trius. (Trius is a name developed and owned by Hillebrand, so these sibling bottles go out of their way to look strikingly different. Happens in almost every family these days.)

But it doesn't matter how they look. These two are the same vintage, made of the same grapes, and produced by the same winemaking team. The only significant difference we got here is price. Or roughly $10-15 for the Harvest (depending on where you buy it), compared to $20.15 for the Trius.

Or least that's the only significant difference until they are tasted.

Hillebrand Estates Harvest Cabernet-Merlot 2004: quite woody, deserves some mellowing to bring forward its nice Cabernet Sauvignon imprint. Overall is thin but just fine with a Sunday dinner of roast beef, with roasted potatoes and carrots and mashed acorn squash.

Hillebrand Estates Trius Red 2004: fruitier with loads of red berries and a pinch of vanilla, immediately convinces as a more integrated Cabernet-Merlot blend. Fine tannins, nice length and structure. Like the Harvest it is drink now. Spicy notes and cedar contribute to its profile too, making it perfect for barbecue fare. We had seared strip loin in mushrooms and shallots, with caramelized zucchini coins and buttered potatoes with chives.

I preferred the upscale version, and furthermore, its more expensive combination of Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc and Merlot was to me a better value. For as little as $5 more, you are getting a lot more elegance.

A successful and worthwhile exercise! But I warned you that there was a but. I found a photo of Trius readily available online so I went back to the Harvest bottle to take my own photographs of it. Suddenly I see the fine print on the label, which says the wine was cellared in Canada. Beware all you Ontario wine drinkers of the dreaded "Cellared in Canada" line. (Click on the photo at top left to enlarge the label). This cellaring business means that the grapes are partially or almost all imported!

I can't believe I played by the rules all the way for WBW 32 only to now find that I've basically been comparing cheap Chilean grapes to "VQA" Niagara harvests. VQA is a seal of quality that guarantees the origin of the grapes as Canadian. I should've been more careful to look for the VQA seal but I guess I was too preoccupied with all the other WBW criteria to notice. What a mistake! Hopefully, this post can serve some purpose to others (and maybe help convince Niagara wineries that imported grapes aren't measuring up to the real thing anyway!)

I had the luck to upgrade to this expensive bottle when my Hillebrand thirty-dollar-something was tainted. I took it back to the winery's shop and in exchange I received this gem. (Click image for product info.)

Okay, it's not cheap. But it's proof that Ontario can produce some very strong international wine. Credit the fantastic winemaker J. L. Groux, now making wines for Stratus, which is another Niagara Peninsula winery just down the street from the Hillebrand Estates Winery. Groux is getting a bigger and bigger reputation with each passing day and I consider myself lucky to have some of his best Glenlake years, which is where this bottle is coming from. I don't think it's outside the range of a good Saint-Émilion, either in terms of quality or in terms of price.

Both sides hate the comparison though, so here are my notes, straight-ahead.

The Hillebrand Estates Showcase Cabernet Franc Glenlake Vineyard 2000 has a light magenta colour. (At this point, I worried about whether this bottle was past its design life as several winos forecast 2008 as a definite best-before expiration. That's just my nerves though.)

On the nose there were beautiful musky and mellow tones. The bouquet is so alluring that I wanted to return to it even after my first sip. You could bask in it. With repeated sniffs I picked up confit of fig. Yummy.

This was reflected in my first taste. It's noticeably supple and rich in the mouth. You could sense the age on this wine. On the palate I found both a typically leafy and a more unique vegetal profile. Yes, it was partly characteristic green pepper but also a fantastic combination of pithy tomato and stewed vegetables. There was some vanilla too, and since the wine was peaking and potentially fading, it threatened to round off the wine's acidity as I drank. But it did not gradually take over as the night wore on. The edges stayed on and the wine was admirably cohesive.

This Glenlake Showcase was not all that long on the finish. Neverthelss, the wine was well served by food. I chose pungent but profiled flavours to embrace the wine rather than strong-arm it. I came up with a dish scented with fresh rosemary and delicious packed tuna in 100% olive oil all tossed together with three-colour pasta. Homemade toasted thyme pita with some melted cheese also played to the strengths of this wine.

Despite the successful match to light meal like this, the wine went with saucier red meat the following night and it also complemented the wine. But perhaps that's why I love a good Cabernet Franc. It's such a wonderful wine to have on the dinner table.

Click the images below for full details on the bottle label.

I recall the names Santa Rita and Santa Carolina from my early days of burgeoning wine-worship. These two were patron saints of great wine value. (Or at least they were at the time -- I haven't seen a Santa Carolina bottle in years and Santa Rita only makes occasional appearances around here these days.)

[UPDATE: Six Santa Carolinas and a Santa Rita have been spotted as part of the LCBO's "Latin Fever" promotion, on until the end of the month.]

It's interesting to think that that part of my wine education went the way of Chilean wines. I was a Niagara Peninsula boy who loved Cabernet Franc, not that other one, and who had inside of him a blog fairly devoted to the wines of the Old World. But at the time, Chilean wines were indeed great values, especially the reds, which made fantastic everyday bottles.

Here, I check in on the Santa Rita Cabernet Sauvignon Reserva Valle del Maipo 2003, a wine I recall drinking as long as I've been drinking wine. Yes, all eight years of pounding.

Thorough decanting opens the up the Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon substantially, which, even though it was three years old when I uncorked it, was at first quite tight.

It had a deep red velvet colour with a magenta rim. Vanilla and savoury spice with very lush berries were present on the nose -- delicious! Like a wonderful combination of grenadine and vegetable soup!

On the nose it is almost better than it is on the palate which shows licorice, medicine, dark carbonized fruit, and wood. Slightly too acidic but it is balanced and with a long finish. It has a full body and tannins that are not totally elegant but at least integrated enough to give the wine structure without being totally domineering. The whole package is well served by a nice dry edge.

At a glance, this is a wine that needs some time but it possesses a beautiful bouquet with eucalyptus flavour -- that medicinal quality that can be a bit off-putting at first. Don't have it on its own, serve it with dinner. When paired with the right food it is a 100 percent luxurious addition to your meal. Try a very rare steak with roasted root vegetables, hardy greens like Brussels sprouts are also a good match for this wine. There's a juiciness to the wine that perfectly echoes the iron and tender red meat of the steak.

To sum up: This is still wise value, done in a typically international style.

Alto Jahuel, Buin, Chile. 13.5%.

Or, Have you ever wondered whether that wine is good enough to age?

I am titling this post "Back in time" for many reasons. One: The title makes an obvious reference to the time and place when grapes are harvested and vinified -- those crucial moments that shape the lifeline of a wine. Two: what follows is an old tasting note that I had written and then put aside. The wine reviewed in my note is one that has not been sold in stores for over a year's time -- you'd likely need a time machine to track it down. Yet I find this old relic of a note -- of little interest to today's wine shoppers -- quite interesting, especially because it says something about the lifespan of wine. I guess the goal of this post is show that history can be very instructive in appreciating wine.

Joe, who writes Joe's Wine Journal, raised an instructive question here about when a wine is ready to drink and whether the auspicious 2002 vintage in Northern France meant that folks should be waiting longer to uncork bottles from that vintage. I was writing about an unclassed 2002 Chablis I had held on to, and he wondered whether the current 2005 vintage of it could come close to going a similar distance.

The answer is a mystery to all but those (not me) who have tasted the 2005. Even then, the answer can only be a prediction on how the wine will mature. Here's what I found out about French wine from the north of France circa 2002.

TIME VS PLACE, VINTAGE VS VINEYARD

Joe's comment first sent me to my Oxford Companion to Wine. There is no doubt that Chablis wines are among the great white wines of the world and as a result, benefit from some ageing. An exceptional vintage like 2002 obviously has a role in prolonging the development of a Chablis, making a fine wine even better. So good advice would be to check a vintage chart to see how long you should wait to open a 2005. (An fine example of one such vintage chart is on the Berry Bros & Rudd site -- it is both user-friendly and useful.)

But once everything is said and done, the vineyard itself is probably is more significant than the vintage. A vineyard that is classed to produce a grand cru or a premier cru makes a wine that is built to last, and in fact, built to get better in the case of Chablis.

For example, the J Moreau & Fils is not a classified growth. I guess that's why my instincts initially said don't wait for the 2005. Yet the 2002 version of it held its own despite being generic Chablis, which means you're back at the vintage chart determining how far you want to gamble with your bottle.

Then I went to the SAQ database, which added to the dilemma. The Quebec wine seller has several Chablis Premier Cru that are actually cheaper than a generic Chablis like J Moreau. The price difference could be the result of various factors but one could only assume that wine quality be one of them. So this makes for yet another reason to defer to someone who's had the opportunity to assess it: Michel Phaneuf; Jancis Robinson, et al -- hey, Jamie Goode has got a scoop on 2005 Laroche on his site today. (I've said it before and I'll say it again, the worldly wine taster whose palate you can relate to is worth more than its weight in gold.)

ENOUGH CHABLIS, WHAT ABOUT CHINON

All this research and musing led me back to this note I took on the Couly-Dutheil La Coulée Automnale Chinon 2002, a Loire Valley Cabernet. When this wine came out at the SAQ, it was not well-reviewed by Michel Phaneuf. I think this is exactly the type of bottle that needs time. A case of its class being trumped by its vintage. This bottle is at the bottom of totem as far as vineyard prestige is concerned, but that didn't stop it from showing a clear ability to develop over time, especially given the vintage. When I tasted it in its fifth year, it modest lineage still had miles and miles in it. Here's that note.

Couly-Dutheil La Coulée Automnale Chinon 2002 - (pictured at top): Though this vintage is no longer available on SAQ shelves, it would be wise to decant it once and then decant it again for good measure. This style of wine can last weeks in the open air and is only supple enough to really show its stuff after a thorough aeration or, even better yet, on the next night (or the night after that). Delicious with earthy dishes, beef medallions, ratatouille pasta. ***

So it appears that vintage is key, vineyard is not. Or is it? Tomorrow: a great vintage lets me down.

The other night I opened a couple of low-end Cabernets. The first one was a Buzet blend from 2003. It was a disappointingly hot cuvée from an otherwise reliable co-operative. I didn't drink too much of it before I turned to open the other Cabernet, also from 2003. This one was Etchart's Cafayate Cab Sauv. It was better -- though not exactly supple either -- but my dinner was practically finished by that point.

And so, as a solo drinker, I faced a major storage issue: the better part of each of the two bottles I had opened for myself remained there in front of me, waiting for another opportunity to be drunk.


I keep several mini bottles of varying sizes specifically for leftover wine purposes. If you've read this blog before you know that I routinely minimize the amount of air and then chill until next serving, usually in following 48 hours (at which point I usually comment on the wine's development/degradation). But I've never attempted to formally prove why this rebottling process is worth the effort. Why bother transferring a half-full bottle of wine at all? Well, here is what I did and what I found out...


I filled a mini bottle to the brim with the Buzet, tightly screwcapped the lid and refrigerated it. I then repeated these steps for the Cafayate. That left roughly 1/3 of the wine in the original bottles. I re-stoppered them both with their respective corks and left them to sit at room temperature -- 18 degrees Celsius. And I waited three days before returning to them.


A bit of background and rationale for you: The effects of oxidation of wine -- basically wine tasting flat -- occurs through a natural process that is stimulated once the bottle is uncorked. But there are many people who say that the pouring of wine from half-full bottles (and into mini bottles) dissolves just as much oxygen in the wine as leaving the wine in a bottle that features a vast expanse of air. (My own educated guess from experience was that the presence of air over time during storage would be a greater oxidizing force than the momentary act of pouring into a mini bottle.)

To this experiment, I added a second variable of storage temperature. I wanted to investigate this because I always chill wine remainders rather than keep them at cellar temperature or room temperature. Yet I rarely or never see restaurants serve red wine by the glass in such a manner, and I have heard that oxidation is slowed at lower temperatures.


Days later, the wines are reopened and tasted. The results were conclusive. The methods of storing wine made for a very detectable difference in a blind taste test. Not only that, but the wines that were stored using my typical method tasted better than the other stored wines. I found this in a blind experiment comparing the Buzet samples and a second participant also found this when comparing the Cafayates blind during a second round. (After my first round, I separated out the two Buzet samples by deduction: since I had isolated and revealed to myself the two Cayafate samples -- which had tasted so radically different that my initial hypothesis was that one was a Buzet and the other was a Cafayate -- I was able to perform a second round of blind tasting for the Buzet. See complete notes below.)

CONCLUSION, FUTURE RESEARCH, AND MY ROUGH TASTING NOTES

Unfortunately, with this experiment, I cannot say whether it was storage temperature or presence of air that had a greater effect on the stored wine. Likely these variables are intertwined. Regardless, my storage method is better than doing the standard recorking, which is pretty much doing nothing at all.

This experiment looked at oxidation in a somewhat limited sense. It was more or less assumed that the more oxidized a wine became, the less palatable it would be. This should not be taken as a constant rule. In choosing Cabernets and a period of three days, I suspected that some elements of the wine might be more palatable, and I definitely think that the Etchart Privado Cabernet Sauvignon Cafayate 2003 was more fully developed three days after opening than immediately out of the bottle. This adds some interesting "reverse psychology" when creating storage conditions for your leftover wine, and certainly goes against Émile Peynaud's theory that aeration of opened wine is indefensible, something I consider even easier disprove than perceived rates of oxidation. Nevertheless, the Cafayate could've been drinking beautifully after one day or two days -- I cannot speculate on that based on this experiment.

Here are my complete notes:

MINI BOTTLE, CAFAYATE SAMPLE: Lovely bouquet of minerals and spice (Ed: I totally pegged this for French Cabernet -- and a good one at that -- when tasting it blind. Again this raises questions about whether the a little oxidation/aeration isn't such a bad thing).

ORIGINAL BOTTLE, CAFAYATE SAMPLE: Heaps of spice. Obvious oak and vanilla. (Ed: This tasted too round and flabby -- as I often expect oaked New World wine to be after a couple of days. That said, it was surprising to me that it tasted as good as it did considering it was so full of air and at room temperature for so long. Credit to Etchart for an outstanding value Cabernet.)

MINI BOTTLE, BUZET SAMPLE: too hot, quite unpalatable

ORIGINAL BOTTLE, BUZET SAMPLE: totally rounded, thoroughly tasteless

(Ed: These two Buzets were harder to differentiate than the Cafayates, I think because of the fact that this wine, even in its optimum condition, was hot, and rather nasty. The original bottle Buzet sample simply stood out as the nastiest of the nasty, and having seen how the original bottle Cafayate sample played out in round one of my tasting, I was fairly sure how to label these two Buzet samples.)

Nothing against Chianti. I love those lusty Sangiovese-based wines, especially when it complements rich Italian sauces or other wonderful regional dishes that are centred around the tomato. It's just that no one ever seems to think it's desirable to serve other wines with tomato sauces. I'm here to say you can. In fact, sometimes you should.

Especially when you've got local superfresh tomatoes to work with -- like now, in September. Then you get the urge to make a cruda-inspired tomato sauce. Cruda style means minimal oil gets integrated into your farm-fresh vegetables. The veg cooks in its own natural juices and intensifies itself while it cooks (see my recipe at bottom). Naturally, cruda makes me think of a lighter-bodied, less opulent wine than the Sangiovese that a fine Chianti often features. Also, I think cruda sauces are less acidic than others. To be enjoyable, wine always has to have at least as much acid as your food. Since the acid in the sauce is going down, you can also scale down the acid content and choose a less acidic wine. Being low in acid is not something Chiantis are known for.

So I dropped the Chianti Classico and instead served my fresh tomato sauce with a Cabernet Franc varietal from Saumur-Champigny and the regional Dão grapes of Portugal's Casa de Santar, which in 2003 produced a surprisingly sauve and smooth cuvée, made to order for a tomato sauce topped on a fresh white fish like tilapia. In the end, that's exactly how I decided to serve my sauce.

THAT'S ITALIAN?

Here's how my homemade tomato sauce paired up with these two decidedly un-Italian wines. The 2003 Domaine du Ruault from the Loire was light but it still had very full flavour profile. I opened it first, so we drank it next to the appetizer course: homegrown orange cherry tomatoes (yes, more tomatoes!) on a garden salad. The Cabernet Franc lended the starter notes of licorice with vegetal and herbal underpinnings. It had some sharp edges, which made this wine coarser than the Chiantis I often drink. Nevertheless, with its tannic punch, it went on to measure up against the tomato sauce.

It was not long at that point until we opened the Dão. Casa de Santar Tinto 2003 had more body and was welcome as we continued on our main course. This Portuguese wine harmonized with the sauce well, supplying rounder fruit than the first and a lot more spice too. To me, this wine approximated a Chianti in an interesting way. Nice acidity. Definitely showing the rustic charm of Portugal yet conveying an Italian savouriness and an earthiness. Stewed prune notes harmonized with the tomato-bathed fish, which I served with a side of leeks and long-grain rice medley.

These two wines were prezzies from Ontario. The LCBO stocks them both and you cannot get either one in Quebec. Neither is in the general repertory section of the LCBO so you may need to research their availability a bit before you come across one. Locate Casa de Santar Tinto 2003 or Domaine du Ruault Saumur-Champigny 2003 before they sell out.

If you are successful, why not try them, especially the Dão, with my sauce. Here's the recipe, as promised.

Fresh tomato sauce

a half dozen large locally-grown tomatoes, the more bumps and surface blemishes the better
several sprigs of fresh garden basil, roughly chopped
an onion, in fine dice
three bay leaves
one tablespoon olive oil
sea salt and fresh pepper to taste
capers (optional)
chopped kalamata olives (optional)

Fill a very large sauce pan, deep pot or dutch oven two-thirds full with salted water and bring it to a boil. Reduce heat to medium-low and immediately blanch the tomatoes: Over a period of no longer than thirty seconds, submerge the tomatoes one-by-one and then fish each back out again.

Set aside the tomatoes, green stem side down while you discard the water from your pot and return it to the stove. Add the tablespoon of olive oil to the pot and then begin to soften the diced onion. Sprinkle with some salt and pepper. Reduce temperature further and stir if onions start to brown.

Using a sharp blade, score a small cross at the blossom dimple. Peel back the skin at each of the four corners you've created (While your tomatoes will already be in position to do this easily, you will find they are not too hot when handled carefully -- many cookbooks instruct that a bowl of ice cubes and water are necessary but I do not do this. As a result, you may get a bit more of the tomatoes on your fingers in peeling off the skins. This is because the internal cooking of the tomato was not halted by dunking it in cold water; however maintaining internal tomato structure is not important since we're making a sauce. And you'll love licking the delicious -- magenta, you'll notice -- and suddenly heightened-in-colour tomato goo off your fingers once you're done peeling anyway.)

Over a bowl or the pot, halve or quarter your peeled tomatoes so that they are easier to hold. Then pick up and thinly slice each tomato directly into the pot. Add any juices you've accumulated in your bowl to the pot. Bring it to a low boil and simmer for about 30 minutes.

After simmering the sauce, taste it to see how naturally sweet it is. Add the chopped basil, along with salt and pepper to taste. Optionally, add capers or kalamata olives to inject some savour and enhance the complexity of your sauce. Stir. (At this point, many cooks taste the sauce and then add more oil or red wine vinegar to give greater balance to a sweet sauce. Since fresh tomatoes we used give out more liquid -- and since we have plainly refused to waste the jelly, seeds and ribs that are often scooped out from the tomato and discarded...why? -- adding more liquid ingredients at this stage will create the need for further reduction and dull the fresh basil flavour. As a result, I opt here for olives, instead of olive oil and capers instead of wine vinegar.)

Pour the sauce atop pasta, fish filets (tilapia, halibut, cod, wall-eye, etc), or grilled eggplant slices and serve.

QUICK FIX: If ever the sauce is still too liquid.
Sometimes presentation is important to the dish you are serving your tomato sauce with. Sometimes you just can't wait for thickened sauce. Don't use a slotted spoon to let the runny juices behind. Strain the entire pot through a fine mesh. Then use the remaining bright rust-coloured juice instead of a water bath to cook your fish filets. Or reserve it for boiling pasta on another night when don't feel like making a sauce but still would like a treat.

or, Pairing fish and other light meals with chilled-down reds

Earlier this week, warm and humid days built up my thirst for a nice light Loire red wine. From my wine rack, I found an Anjou Cabernet. I knew nothing about it except that it possessed the two keywords I was looking for: Loire and Rouge. I remember buying it on sale -- pretty much sight unseen -- for moments exactly like these when I would invariably want a fresh Cabernet Franc to sip alongside a light and summery meal like the air-poached filet of trout and boiled potatoes pictured above.

At the end of a hot day, a chilled aromatic red wine that is low in tannin is great at the dinnertable. It can be the perfect pairing. But my Domaine les Grandes Vignes L'Aubinaie 2003 packed a punch, and it was more than the aromatic wallop that a Loire red often delivers. This one certainly had some body and weight to it.

For sure, the sweltering 2003 vintage could've intensified the consistency of wine, giving it greater depth and brawn, and but this bottle was practically manhandling my demure trout filet. I was surprised that the Parmesan cheese, which I shaved sparingly into my salad because I thought its strong flavour would overpower the wine, ended up being the most natural match for what I was drinking. Why? Sure enough, upon closer inspection, the Cabernet variety listed on the back label was "Franc and/or Sauvignon". It was right there just above where it said "Serve lightly chilled" and then it became obvious.

Even though the recommended serving temperature was 12 to 14 degrees Celsius, this red was no light and merely perfumey expression. It was infused with Cabernet Sauvignon. Sometimes wine more lightweight than this needs chilling to be best appreciated. On this day I was glad to have something cool in my glass, even if the fullness of body didn't demand it. But in the end I think you could avoid the chilling for this wine. And next time I would pour it with steak.

Since I got the wine on a whim and likely will not have the chance to get more, there may not be a next time. It was such an interesting cuvée though, so I jotted down the following information from its many busy labels before I tossed it into the recycling:

• Domaine les Grandes Vignes is located in Layon in the Loire Valley


• The estate is family run by the Vaillant brothers: Laurence, Jean-François and Dominique


• The cuvée L'Aubinaie is certified as organic and earns the Terra Vitis designation


• Bottled at the Vaillant Estate "La Roche Aubry" Thouarcé, France. 13%.

And last but not least, I realized when a wine pairing sets off your meal in unexpected ways, you can always fall back on the two dishes you prepared to be your perfect food pairing. Man, that trout and celery salad were good and good together!

Domaine Langlois-Château St-Florent Saumur 2004 has heady meandering aromas and a deep dark hue suggesting concentrated, heavily-extracted Cabernet Franc grapes. On the palate this wine is a bit tight and needs time in the decanter or better yet several hours uncorked in the fridge. The tannins will loosen and become supple over time and it was on the second day that this wine opened up.

THE WINE PREP

With time and chilling (serve anywhere below 16 degrees Celsius, I would say), this wine is winning. It is Cabernet Franc through and through: slightly weedy upon opening but that gives way to intense and profound fruit -- blackberries and black cherry. Plus an earthiness develops which lends a palatable herbal character to this wine. Quite a nice specimen if you like this kind of varietal.

THE FOOD PREP

I paired it with tourtiere and I would certainly serve it alongside similar food in the future. St-Florent Saumur from Langlois-Château stands up to the rich and pungent buttery pie crust of the meat pie. And it complements the rooty spices like cinnamon, clove and nutmeg that are found in flavouring to the beef and potato filling. Broccoli, seasoned heavily with ground savoury and sea salt makes a good and quick-to-fix side. Add a couple of grape tomatoes to the mix and your dinner plate is as full and as balanced as this well-made bottle of wine.

Just remember when you are preparing the food that this wine needs some preparation too. Decant it well in advance. You really can't do it too early. Once that's out of the way you can concentrate on your other prep work.

St-Hilaire-St-Florent, Maine & Loire, France. 13.5%

French wines are labelled by region rather than grape variety. The Madiran pictured above is no exception -- Madiran is a place-name from the south-west region between Bordeaux and Spain and not a little-known species of grape.

But here's a secret. If you want to know the predominant type of grape that goes into AOC red wine from France's Southwest, just remember that the a's have it: The word Madiran possesses two a's so its essential grape, Tannat, has two a's as well. This also works for the other big red of the Southwest, Cahors. There's one a in Cahors, so the grape of high stature in Cahors wines is none other than Malbec (known locally as Auxerrois, another single-a grape).

TANNAT, AS IN TANNIC

Now that you know the Madiran you've taken off the shelf is made from Tannat, what do you do? Likely, you opt to let it cellar. Tannat is so named for its heavy tannins, the thing in grapes that gives off a puckering bitter taste and nobly allows wine to improve with age.

The Domaine Mouréou 1999 has sufficiently shaken off all residual bitterness; the only astringency left in the mix contributes towards the overall structure of the wine. In seven years, most Madirans are at their supplest. In fact, for those that feature equal or greater proportions of Cabernet to Tannat, even that much ageing is not de rigeur. I think the Mouréou is a case in point. With a blend topped up with 60% Cabernet Franc, there's no just reason to fear its younger self. The 2000, which has been tapped as a good year, is certainly ready to open, and I doubt even the next vintage on its way to the market would need much decanting to enamour its drinkers.

TASTING NOTES, SERVING IDEAS

This wine immediately offers a heady aroma. To the eye it is deep purple with vibrant magenta edges. Domaine Mouréou is not as full-bodied as most Madiran wine might be, but it does possess a lovely mouth-filling sensation and a great multi-varietal sensibility. I taste jammy and brambly berries, blackened spices and vanilla. And then beneath it all, a backbone of toast and molasses.

A duck confit or gamey red meats are the standard Madiran pairings. I cooked up a Spanish tortilla of potato, eggs and onions instead. I added some purposeful flavours like cumin, black olives and Manzanilla sherry to this recipe since, after all, this was no fruity Spanish Tempranillo on my table. The results were fantastic.

In the end, the legendary Madiran can be a quite approachable wine. It's all about striking an interesting balance. So go ahead and rock the boat.

Patrick Ducournau, Maumusson, France. 12.5%.

From the Skalli stronghold in the South of France, the Fortant de France Cabernet Sauvignon 2002 reminds me of the phrase "rhythm and melody", the crucial elements that combine to make a song. Why does the übergrape that is Cabernet Sauvignon prompt the playing of music in my mind? Well, I guess music is a good metaphor for creating a solid red wine. No, rhythm and melody is not a literal ingredient list for the winemaker -- though some of that in the background may help the wine drinker when it gets to uncorking time. Wine's dynamic duo would have to be "tannins and acidity". Like rhythm and melody, these two are the basis of a successful, enjoyable product.

Because this wine achieves greatness with its tannins and acidity, you forgive it its other shortcomings. It's not big, full of matter or full-bodied, all things that a Cabernet Sauvignon might conjure up. Its colour is nothing to write home about: a brick to garnet hue, already acknowledging its peak before turning three years old. You might also forgive it its bouquet, heady with a little spice. It doesn't give up much more. But none of this could indicate its admirable balance and so I move in to drink the stuff. The real test, isn't it? Well, it does have nice fruit. Cassis (blackcurrant) plain and simple. Some spice rounds it out but it's not complicated and fairly light-bodied for this grape variety. Nevertheless it possesses that winning form of solid structure -- the claim to fame of Cabernet Sauvignon. The tannins give it its backbone and it's the smart acid that gives it some nice length. Quite respectable and only sets you back about a sawbuck!

Oftentimes in the past I'd have a leftover half bottle of a Fortant de France wine and elect to make it my "cooking wine". I consider good cooking wines to be something respectable enough to drink but not prohibitive in price. When you put in a lot of time and effort (and money) cooking a gourmet meal why bring things down a level by adding plonk to your dish? (Don't go overboard either -- whose palate is refined enough to pick out a 97 Brunello in the coq au vin?) So basically, you take a Fortant like this and do yourself some good in front of the stove.

In any case, what I had pegged here as cooking wine for some five days running while it stood around in a half bottle was actually at a moment's notice poured back into my Spiegelau and thoroughly enjoyed once more. (When the Asian ladybug makes an unwelcome appearance, you need a quick back-up.) A wine once regulated to the top of the refrigerator next to the lemons and the coffee beans can come to bat in the clinch.

Sète, France 12.5%