The world is full of neglected wines. And it's a damn shame. All over the globe, dedicated farmers slog through the worst conditions possible to nurture vitis vinifera, one of the most fickle plant species ever to exist; harvesters endure literally backbreaking conditions to bring the ripened fruits of the farmers' labor to wineries; and once there, winemakers toil and think, reasoning their way around vagaries of chemistry and terroir to make grapes turn into delicious wine. And then, some of the best of those wines sit on store shelves, unopened, bottle-aging to perfection until one day they pass their prime and just sit there, fading into obscurity, because you and I are not drinking them.
This must stop. Today is the day to go out and discover (or re-discover) a varietal you never drink, a wine you long ago dismissed, or a wine you never knew about. Where should you start?
Today, think about Chianti. I know, I know, Chianti has immediate joke status. In the sixties and seventies it was a piss-poor, thin, quaffable but characterless red that came in raffia-wrapped bottles that you bought more for the bottle and its use as a drip-candle holder than for the juice inside. In the nineties Chianti was the wine Hannibal Lecter sipped while he ate a census taker's liver. (In the book, it was Amarone, which is far better with liver than Chianti, but who had ever heard of Amarone? In fact, how many of us have enjoyed Amarone? Less than half of those of you reading these words; and even the wine aficionados among us can rarely afford it.)
But Chianti is much, much more than a cheap shot. Do avoid the ones in the straw-wrapped bottles, because they still suck. Spend a few extra dollars and get a decent bottle, like Gabbiano or Santa Margherita. Be forewarned, though, for Chianti is nothing like the reds you drink on a daily basis.Owing to a diverse range of factors including soil chemistry and winemaking technique, Chianti has an almost salty note that falls under the category of "umami", that elusive and utterly satisfying fifth, savory flavor that encompasses such diverse sources as soy sauce, sherry, and cheese.
Why, you rightly ask, should I drink a wine that tastes like that? There are a lot of reasons. The "classic" pairing for Chianti in Italian-American cuisine is tomato sauce. This is anathemic to most authentic Italian cuisine, where tomato is paired with dry but fruity white wines; in fact, the sauce Bolognese that is the basis for American "spaghetti sauce" is almost always made with white wine rather than red. But Chianti works with tomato, and works beautifully, because its faint iodine, sea-salt flavors counterpoint with the acidity and sweetness of tomato like nothing else. Don't believe me? Try it and see.
In Chianti's homeland, however, this jewel among wines is most often coupled with a huge slab of dry-aged, grass-fed beef. Just tonight, my family enjoyed round steak, seared in a cast-iron skillet with sea salt and a dash of olive oil, and we drank a 2006 Chianti alongside. The marriage of wine and meat was ecstatic, to say the least. And yet we spent less than $30 altogether on the meal and the wine. Yes, Chianti is challenging; its aromas are old-book musty like many good European wines, and its flavors have not even a touch of the residual sweetness we good Americans like in our reds. But when it hit the palate after a rich bite of beef, no sane mind could wish for more. So what are you waiting for? It's a new year and a new era. It's time to expand your horizons. It doesn't matter if you buy Chianti or not. Go out and buy something you haven't tried before. If you have questions, ask someone whose palate you trust. At the end of the day, it is our duty as wine lovers to insure that no category of wines, no matter how inaccessible or challenging, falls by the wayside. I wish you well, and bid you keep drinking only the good stuff.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
On Sherry, Volume II
, Our exploration of sherry continues this week! For those of you who were put off by the out-and-out weirdness of the fino last week, relax a bit...the next category we'll be exploring is Amontillado, which is far easier to love.
How an amontillado is made is a little complicated. If you clicked on the link for the wikipedia fino sherry article last week, bear with me since you'll know a lot of this already. I'll keep it short and simple. Basically, when fino-type sherries are fermenting in barrel, a foul-looking mat of white yeast called "flor" develops on the surface. If the flor remains undisturbed, the sherry will be light, only a little oxidized, and quite dry. This will receive only minimal fortification and will be released as a fino. If, however, the flor is compromised or dies, or the wine is fortified to the point that the yeast dies (over 16% alcohol), the sherry will oxidize much more, turn an amber to deep brown color, and will sweeten slightly on its own. This is a dry amontillado. If moscatel or Pedro Ximenez sherry is added to the barrel, it will be a medium-dry amontillado, which is the type we're trying today.
Osborne Medium Dry Amontillado NV $14.99 SPAIN (Jerez) Amber-gold in the glass. The nose is intense, fragrant, with caramel, toffee and hazelnut aromas. The palate is somewhere between off-dry and off-sweet, with strong almond and hazelnut flavors, a hint of maple syrup, and a faint saltiness that really ties it all together. The finish is very, very long indeed, and showcases a tiny lift of acidity. Great amontillado for the sherry novice. In the next couple of weeks, we'll try several different kinds of amontillados so that you can truly appreciate this style, which is one of my favorite kinds of wine in all the world. And of course, today we'll try many other fine wines.
Be well, and keep drinking the good stuff. Rob "the Bokkonator" Bokkon
How an amontillado is made is a little complicated. If you clicked on the link for the wikipedia fino sherry article last week, bear with me since you'll know a lot of this already. I'll keep it short and simple. Basically, when fino-type sherries are fermenting in barrel, a foul-looking mat of white yeast called "flor" develops on the surface. If the flor remains undisturbed, the sherry will be light, only a little oxidized, and quite dry. This will receive only minimal fortification and will be released as a fino. If, however, the flor is compromised or dies, or the wine is fortified to the point that the yeast dies (over 16% alcohol), the sherry will oxidize much more, turn an amber to deep brown color, and will sweeten slightly on its own. This is a dry amontillado. If moscatel or Pedro Ximenez sherry is added to the barrel, it will be a medium-dry amontillado, which is the type we're trying today.
Osborne Medium Dry Amontillado NV $14.99 SPAIN (Jerez) Amber-gold in the glass. The nose is intense, fragrant, with caramel, toffee and hazelnut aromas. The palate is somewhere between off-dry and off-sweet, with strong almond and hazelnut flavors, a hint of maple syrup, and a faint saltiness that really ties it all together. The finish is very, very long indeed, and showcases a tiny lift of acidity. Great amontillado for the sherry novice. In the next couple of weeks, we'll try several different kinds of amontillados so that you can truly appreciate this style, which is one of my favorite kinds of wine in all the world. And of course, today we'll try many other fine wines.
Be well, and keep drinking the good stuff. Rob "the Bokkonator" Bokkon
Friday, January 9, 2009
I wrote a really stunning piece on fino sherry last night, and when I attempted to post it on our MySpace, the damnable Internet ate every bit of the text. It was irretrievable. Needless to say, I was not best pleased about this, but I will attempt to cobble it back together for you as best I can.
As you may know, this week starts our informal series on exploring sherry. I know a few brave souls tried the Alvear's Fino last week, so I apologize for repeating myself, but even so it's worth another try now that you have some idea of what you're getting into. With that said:
Some Brief Notes on Sherry and its Origins
Firstly, the name. The region of Jerez de la Frontera has been continually occupied since at least the time of the Old Testament, when the Canaanite tribe known as the Phoenicians settled the area (probably bringing grapevines with them). The wine of the area was exported as early as the time of the Roman Empire, when the city and its product were called "Ceret" (pronounced "kair-ett"). This wine was not yet fortified, as distillation was a largely unknown practice.
Fast-forward to the Middle Ages, when southern Spain was part of the Muslim Moorish Empire; the city was called "Xerez", and its now-fortified wine was consumed even by the nominally teetotalling Muslim caliphs who ruled the region. After the Reconquista the newly-Christianized city was renamed "Jerez de la Frontera", since it marked the border between Christian and Muslim Spain. Fast-forward again, this time a couple of centuries, to the first rulers of a united Spain, Ferdinand and Isabella. The aformentioned rulers are of course the ones who financed the exploratory voyages of a possibly Jewish Italian called Cristobal Colon, or, in English, Christopher Columbus. The wine he used both for ballast and for his crews' entertainment was, in fact, sherry, thus making it the first documented wine brought to America. (I say "documented" because the Vikings, the Irish, and the Basque cod fishermen all have legitimate claims to arriving in America centuries before Columbus, and if they didn't have wine with them on their voyages, I would be very surprised... however, they never bothered to mention it.)
Secondly, just what the hell is Sherry? Long story short: Sherry is a fortified wine produced from white-wine grapes including Palomino, Pedro Ximenez, Moscatel, and a few other varieties, which by law can only be produced in the area around the city of Jerez de la Frontera known as the Sherry Triangle. This explanation, while accurate, cannot hope to convey the massive subject that is sherry and sherry production. Since not all of you are going to want to slog through a detailed exposition of the solera system or the history of sherry, I will provide the following links which you may follow, or not, as you choose:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sherry
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_Sherry
Lastly, the sherry we'll be trying today. The lightest and driest of the sherries, Fino is a pale, straw-colored wine that is unlike almost anything else in the world. Is it easy to drink? No, especially if you're not used to dry fortified wines. Is it good? Absolutely, if you are willing to rethink what wine is and what it's supposed to taste like. Western cooks and scientists tend to group flavors into four categories: sweet, sour, bitter, and salty. The Japanese add a fifth category: "umami", or "savory". Fino sherry has an umami character. This can be a little daunting, so don't feel bad if you don't like it at first (or ever, for that matter). But I can vouch that there is nothing better in the world than a glass of ice-cold fino when you are sitting down to a plate of thinly sliced ham, strong cheeses, or briny seafood. Give it a go, see what you think, and let me know... if nothing else you've tried something new.
Today's selection is:
Alvear's Fino Montilla NV $15.99 SPAIN (Montilla)
Just to confuse the issue, our first Sherry is, well, not a sherry. Though made in the correct style for a fino sherry, Alvear's is located in the town of Montilla, just a little to the north of the Sherry Triangle, and thus the wine cannot legally be called Sherry. However, the Alvear's fino, being made from the superior Pedro Ximenez grape, is a better wine than many of the "true" sherries of the Sherry Triangle. Are you confused yet?
Pale silvery-gold in the glass, with a nose of aldehydes (think fresh-cut apples or toasted almonds) and a hint of bourbon-barrel aroma(!), and a grassy, slightly herbal palate featuring notes of soy, toasted bread, and olives. The finish is long and a little hot, which reinforces the bourbon tweak from the nose. Excellent but very challenging.
If penicillin can cure those who are ill, Spanish sherry can bring the dead back to life. --Sir Alexander Fleming, discoverer of penicillin (1881-1955)
As you may know, this week starts our informal series on exploring sherry. I know a few brave souls tried the Alvear's Fino last week, so I apologize for repeating myself, but even so it's worth another try now that you have some idea of what you're getting into. With that said:
Some Brief Notes on Sherry and its Origins
Firstly, the name. The region of Jerez de la Frontera has been continually occupied since at least the time of the Old Testament, when the Canaanite tribe known as the Phoenicians settled the area (probably bringing grapevines with them). The wine of the area was exported as early as the time of the Roman Empire, when the city and its product were called "Ceret" (pronounced "kair-ett"). This wine was not yet fortified, as distillation was a largely unknown practice.
Fast-forward to the Middle Ages, when southern Spain was part of the Muslim Moorish Empire; the city was called "Xerez", and its now-fortified wine was consumed even by the nominally teetotalling Muslim caliphs who ruled the region. After the Reconquista the newly-Christianized city was renamed "Jerez de la Frontera", since it marked the border between Christian and Muslim Spain. Fast-forward again, this time a couple of centuries, to the first rulers of a united Spain, Ferdinand and Isabella. The aformentioned rulers are of course the ones who financed the exploratory voyages of a possibly Jewish Italian called Cristobal Colon, or, in English, Christopher Columbus. The wine he used both for ballast and for his crews' entertainment was, in fact, sherry, thus making it the first documented wine brought to America. (I say "documented" because the Vikings, the Irish, and the Basque cod fishermen all have legitimate claims to arriving in America centuries before Columbus, and if they didn't have wine with them on their voyages, I would be very surprised... however, they never bothered to mention it.)
Secondly, just what the hell is Sherry? Long story short: Sherry is a fortified wine produced from white-wine grapes including Palomino, Pedro Ximenez, Moscatel, and a few other varieties, which by law can only be produced in the area around the city of Jerez de la Frontera known as the Sherry Triangle. This explanation, while accurate, cannot hope to convey the massive subject that is sherry and sherry production. Since not all of you are going to want to slog through a detailed exposition of the solera system or the history of sherry, I will provide the following links which you may follow, or not, as you choose:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sherry
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_Sherry
Lastly, the sherry we'll be trying today. The lightest and driest of the sherries, Fino is a pale, straw-colored wine that is unlike almost anything else in the world. Is it easy to drink? No, especially if you're not used to dry fortified wines. Is it good? Absolutely, if you are willing to rethink what wine is and what it's supposed to taste like. Western cooks and scientists tend to group flavors into four categories: sweet, sour, bitter, and salty. The Japanese add a fifth category: "umami", or "savory". Fino sherry has an umami character. This can be a little daunting, so don't feel bad if you don't like it at first (or ever, for that matter). But I can vouch that there is nothing better in the world than a glass of ice-cold fino when you are sitting down to a plate of thinly sliced ham, strong cheeses, or briny seafood. Give it a go, see what you think, and let me know... if nothing else you've tried something new.
Today's selection is:
Alvear's Fino Montilla NV $15.99 SPAIN (Montilla)
Just to confuse the issue, our first Sherry is, well, not a sherry. Though made in the correct style for a fino sherry, Alvear's is located in the town of Montilla, just a little to the north of the Sherry Triangle, and thus the wine cannot legally be called Sherry. However, the Alvear's fino, being made from the superior Pedro Ximenez grape, is a better wine than many of the "true" sherries of the Sherry Triangle. Are you confused yet?
Pale silvery-gold in the glass, with a nose of aldehydes (think fresh-cut apples or toasted almonds) and a hint of bourbon-barrel aroma(!), and a grassy, slightly herbal palate featuring notes of soy, toasted bread, and olives. The finish is long and a little hot, which reinforces the bourbon tweak from the nose. Excellent but very challenging.
If penicillin can cure those who are ill, Spanish sherry can bring the dead back to life. --Sir Alexander Fleming, discoverer of penicillin (1881-1955)
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