Here's to much more tasting, drinking and debate

[This is my contribution to 32 Days of Natural Wine. Please feel free to comment here or, even better on the saignee edition of this post]

One night last week I was drinking a glass of wine . At Terroir. Terroir Natural Wine Merchant in San Francisco. Terroir the muse, Terroir the young upstart professor, Terroir the hipster who just knows about all the cool shit before you do. Yes, I love Terroir and respect what they do immensely, if you couldn’t already tell. Anyway, back to that glass of wine. It was a 2006 Julien Courtois Originel, a blend of menu pineau and romorantin from Touraine. Oxidative, fleshy, but still with a degree of fruity freshness that made it an appealing enough drink to pour by the glass. It was a much cleaner, less flawed wine than the 2004 version of the same wine that Terroir poured by the glass a year and a half or so ago. Perhaps, though, they had just poured it to hear my thoughts on it.

A lot has happened in that year and a half. I am somewhat more familiar with many wines that many would identify as “natural.” I have gained a greater appreciation for natural wines that are well made: the precision and cut of a Tournelles savagnin, the generosity and intensity of an Occhipinti SP68, the texture and purity of a Foillard Morgon. In well made natural wines from distinctive terroirs, there are textures that are more lively, acidity that leaps, and flavors that reward the taster with experiences that are unique and singular in the wine world. However, it is important to remember the much larger world of wine that exists independently of natural wines. This is the world of wine most commonly experienced by the masses, and it is the world in which most of us begin our discovery of wine.

To give you a better sense of my background, here is a quick history of my wine consumption, or perhaps education, no…formation. That’s the word, formation. Most evenings my parents enjoyed a couple of glasses of wine with dinner . At my mom’s insistence, I enjoyed a tall glass of skim milk. Sounds terrific, huh? Anyway, I was and forever will be a dutiful son and mama’s boy. I drank the watery, vaguely milky milk, but eventually, I tasted the parents’ wine. It was typically a chardonnay or cabernet from California and they tasted fine. During good times, the real estate boom years, there might have been some bottles of Chalone purchased and some fancier Napa cab labels such as Robert Mondavi Oakville cab. When I was 9 years old, I remember particularly enjoying a 1986 Chalone Pinot Blanc. Then the real estate bust happened and magnums of Concha y Toro made appearances at the table. I was not a fan. I suspect that my parents weren’t into those wines either. Other sacrificies were made, both large and small (admittedly it was a fairly charmed existence beforehand). We moved to a smaller home, and I chose to forego continuing my private school education to enroll in public school. It was as much an economically driven decision as it was one for my happiness: I needed a break from blue blooded wasps, lacrosse, and manufactured prep school diversity. I longed for more hang time with my childhood Jewish friends. It was comfortable.
But I digress. Let’s flash forward to 2003. That’s when I started working with wine, paying closer attention to it, and mixing up cases to learn flavor profiles of different varietals and regions. I started to pick up on a few things. For example, Macon Villages was from Burgundy, composed of chardonnay grapes, tasted sort of like granny smith apples and was minerally. Bobby Kacher imported lots of Rhone and southern French wines, and people in the trade (granted, in his home base of Washington, DC, but respected professionals nonetheless) said that they were good values. I agreed.

Eventually I landed a job at a medium sized distributor with a real book of products that people could actually sell through. I sold from a diverse portfolio, including wines that people considered “must have” brands as well as some genuinely cool stuff that I enjoyed drinking. Part of the job requirement was studying intermediate level WSET material. I started learning a lot of factoid such as one stating that the best gamay was typically grown in granite soils located in Beaujolais, just north of the Northern Rhone and south of Burgundy.

My first wine trip was to Bordeaux in the spring of 2006 to taste the 2005 vintage out of barrel. For anyone who has been on a wine trip to Bordeaux, you will understand it when I say that my first wine trip was not really a wine trip at all. There was minimal time in the vineyards, hardly any face time with people responsible for tending vines or even working in the cellar. Instead, there was much more time in crowded rooms at UGC (Bordeaux’s communally organized Union des Grand Crus) tastings. In other words, though I had some book knowledge and a bit of tasting experience, I was just a wholesale wine rep: I did not know shit (I say this with all due respect for the .01% of wine reps who actually know their shit). Looking back on it now, I sometimes wonder why more serious sommeliers and retail buyers ever bought much from me. I guess that I was likeable enough and did enough of the important stuff, namely showing up and knowing when to shut up and listen. A retailer at one of my accounts said that the best way to extensively taste and learn wine was to either become a critic or to work retail. The latter option was much more realistic, so that’s the path I took.

OK, now that you know my life story, let’s return to the subject of natural wine. Three years ago, I walked into a store called Chambers Street Wines in New York City. Blogging celebrity, Lyle Fass, suggested a rarity, a 2002 Houillon/Overnoy Poulsard (alternately, ploussard) from the noted ploussard terroir of Pupillin. It cost $25, and was one of the more delicious and memorable bottles of wine I had ever drunk. Delicate and slightly savory, though still energetic with terrific fruit and acidity, and a lightness of texture that betrayed its sense of importance and seriousness. In short, I had never tasted anything like it. I was not aware of natural wines at the time, but within short order I started reading up a bit more on the subject and drinking a lot more of these types of wines.

I became part of a geeky online community. In addition to the blogs written by print media’s leading lights such as Eric Asimov and Jon Bonné, I read other wine blogs. I learned to love Brooklynguy’s unique, humble, witty voice and excellent cooking tips. I loved Lyle’s unfiltered, occasionally wrathful, but honest, writings on wine and wine industry happenings (not to mention the hip-hop videos). I devoured David McDuff’s top notch producer profiles. And I made sure to set aside time for Cory Cartwright’s unbelievably well developed and earnest philosophical musings on natural wine.

In wine, as in life, people are possessive. They love to make and lay claim to new discoveries. And then share them with people who are not familiar with such things. People are as passionate and protective of their favorite wines as they are their children, their pets, their favorite albums (just try to tell me, for example, that Husker Du’s Zen Arcade is not one of the greatest rock records of the past 25 years). One person’s wine favorite may not only be disliked by someone else, but could be lambasted as being flawed and simply not drinkable.

Speaking of wine flaws...do you enjoy volatile acidity? I don’t mind it in some cases. Chateau Musar, for example? No shortage of volatile acidity here, but I do really enjoy their reds.

How about cidery flavors from long skin macerations? I find Radikon’s ribolla to be delicious. Over-maceration is a flaw according to Jules Chauvet, but when employed with grapes grown in the right terroir, and overseen by an experienced winemaker, it produces intriguing and tasty wines.

And how about the ‘S’ word? Sulphur. Do you enjoy that sort of nutty quality that minimally or unsulphured wines frequently show on the finish? This is an attribute that, when it begins to dominate, I can do without. I think it is a little bit too indicative of a winemaking choice, and that it distracts from a wine’s actual qualities given its grape variety (-ies) and terroir.

Overly oaked wines? I am sensitive to elevage in a portion of new French oak barriques. In most cases, I believe that this is a pursuit best left to the Burgundians, and few others. Even then, it is often too much for me. Long aging in older barrels though? Bring on the 1970’s Riojas. Love ‘em.

We all have a different tolerance of flaws – real, perceived, and those which lie somewhere in between. Perhaps my tolerance for flaws is a bit higher than that of many others.

Regardless of personal taste, there is always more to learn, more to taste, another producer to visit, a well written text to consult, and maybe even a winemaking project to initiate. In the pursuit of understanding wine, show a little bit of humility, but have enough confidence and guts to challenge prevailing perceptions. This is why the natural wine loving community is so dynamic and well informed; it is a passionate and opinionated, but humble and knowledge sharing lot. There are plenty of people to consult and learn from. Given an appropriate amount of tasting and research, you can feel free to draw your own conclusions about natural wines. However, expect to be challenged and be prepared to defend your positions.
Here’s to much more tasting, drinking and debate on the subject.

This Bastille Day, Support The French Revolution!

Everyone has a crazy friend. Not mentally unbalanced, just someone who is perhaps a little bit louder than most, someone who finds themselves in crazy situations and relishes recounting those stories. Someone who takes risks, who packs a whole lot into their day. Their intense personality may occasionally offend those with more mild manners and easily agitated sensibilities. Undoubtedly, however, I have concluded that we are all better off for having crazy friends.

Matt Stewart is my crazy friend. Amongst other ridiculous activities, we have joined a large group in Sevilla attempting to break the Guinness record for largest group breakfast (close, by the way, but no cigar) and dressed up in 18th century colonial garb during San Francisco's popular marathon and drunken walk, Bay to Breakers, to promote his debut novel, The French Revolution. I would not do this for just anyone. Anyway, I'm going to employ my occasional plug privileges to promote both Matt's novel, as well as his launch party this Wednesday at 8pm at Elixir. Though this is Matt's night, Old World Old School will be contributing as well by raffling off a few bottles of French wine. It may not be Volnay, but it sure as hell won't be industrial plonk, either.

Matt writes fiction well, really well. I applaud anyone who has the focus and discipline to write a novel while working full-time, but Matt has written something original and developed a very clever way to get loads of press by debuting the novel on Twitter last summer. He then continued to pursue a publisher, which he now has in Soft Skull Press. Recently the Chronicle reviewed The French Revolution favorably. I'm a third of the way through and am enjoying it. Matt's long, florid, sentences capture San Francisco perfectly, and his third person narrative shows more than a bit of Matt's own character and unique perspective.

Below are the details for this Wednesday night. Viva la revolution!

The French Revolution Book Launch Party at Elixir
Wednesday July 14th at 8pm
16th & Guerrero

MJ, one year after

Last year around this time, many people (ok, myself included) were reeling from this huge loss. Coincidentally, I was in LA around this time last year, and I am heading down there again, as soon as I finish posting this video of one of my favorite MJ jams, "Shake your body down to the ground." Enjoy.

Poulsard, Trousseau and the power of experience

Last night I went to San Francisco's preeminent wine bar, Terroir. I ordered a bottle of 2006 Jacques Puffeney Poulsard 'M' to share with my girlfriend. Surprisingly, it was not good. Not flawed, just aromatically flat, texturally dull, and frankly, disappointing. It improved and brightened up a bit once poured in a carafe and left alone for 45 minutes or so, but I couldn't help but feel a bit flustered by these two facts: that I didn't like a bottle of wine from Jura master Jacques Puffeney, and that a bottle of poulsard from the Jura exported to the US could be so heavy and dull.

Tonight, I just opened a bottle of 2007 Jacques Puffeney Trousseau. It is much, much better. Aromatically a bit funky and animale to be sure, as is the grape's natural tendency, but delicate, expressive, floral and nervy as well. I look forward to drinking the bottle.

To be honest I'm not sure how to conclude here, or if there is any lesson to be learned. That 2007 is a more classic vintage in the Jura? Yes, perhaps. That even your favorite wines will occasionally disappoint? Yeah, that will happen. Let's take a moment to remember that wines require some patience and if you have not had a particular wine at least 6 or more times, then perhaps you don't know it as well as you think you do. Or if you have never visited a region, maybe you aren't really in a position to judge its producers' viticultural and winemaking practices. And if you have never cultivated a vine, let alone any fruits or vegetables, are you really in a position to opine about viticulture?

I myself have not heeded these advisories, and am sure to occasionally not do so in the future. Nonetheless, I would like to attempt to make a more conscious effort towards keeping all of this in mind. And further, I will attempt to learn more from primary sources in the wine world. Not to dismiss the secondary ones (especially, better written blogs) but there is no substitute for acquiring knowledge first-hand, or at the very least through a respected farmer, winemaker or vigneron with experience.

Lacrima di Morro d'Alba and aged grignolino; or, The Value of Blind Tasting

Last night, the monthly tasting group, which I'm thrilled to say is back on track with a renewed sense of purpose and discipline, met up in Oakland to taste two flights of four wines. Typically, if a wine's bottle is covered and it's identity concealed, you might call it 'blind' tasting, but from now on I think I'm going to go with 'brown bag tasting,' out of respect for anyone who is partially or fully blind, so as to not associate this voluntary professional exercise, leisurely activity, or however you experience it, with the involuntary condition of lacking eye sight. So, we tasted two flights of four wines each, trying to guess what was in our glass, what commonality tied the wines together. Typically, this common thread is a region, or perhaps a grape varietal. Last night, it was both a DOC region and its grape varietal for the first flight, lachrima di morro d'alba from the Marche, on the adriatic coast of Italy, south of Emilia Romagna and east of Umbria. For the second flight, it was a broader piemonte regional theme consisting of a few wines from monferrato, a langhe chardonnay and a gattinara.

Brown bag tasting gets a bad rap. In Adventures on the Wine Route, Kermit Lynch famously likens it to strip poker, or some sort of parlor trick. In the 1970's when he was starting out in the business, it was popular to compare some of the classic Bordeaux and Burgundies with some of the best California wines in competitive tastings. You know, The Judgement of Paris and stuff like that. I can understand his point of view, that you cannot understand a wine in a few minutes, or declare it better than another in a peer group just because it may have a richer, more forceful personality. Wine observed and critiqued in isolation (i.e. without food) is indeed not how it is meant to be enjoyed. It is an argument shared by detractors of brown bag tasting today.

However, I maintain that the brown bag exercise is a worthwhile one. The brown bag enables objectivity. Whatever pre-conceived notions you may have of a region, a grape varietal, a producer, or an importer, disappear and enable you to judge a wine on its own merits. Also, the format of most brown bag tastings often times enable you to judge a wine amongst its peers. By tasting similar wines in a focused way, you invariably learn more about what makes a region, producer, or vintage distinctive. Then again, the value of a brown bag tasting ultimately depends on the care with which one selects the wines, as well as the approach and observations of the participants.

There are plenty of groups that go for the tried and true, WSET inspired groupings of wines, perhaps combined with a degree of hype for certain vintages. For example, 2007 Chateauneuf du Pape, 2008 Burgundies, 2007 Napa cabernet. I have a co-worker who has participated in such tastings with his group every month for years now. And that's fine. Not for me, but that's why I'm in a group that does brown bag tasting a bit more off the beaten path: two flights of Puffeney, zinfandel from the 80's and early 90's, currently available Alsatian wines, and most recently, the lachrima flight as well as some grignolino, freisa, gattinara and 02 Coppo Chardonnay.

After we taste, we eat. Well. Last night it was lasagna, which went very nicely with a 2006 Luciano Landi "Gaviligiano" Lachrima di Morro d'Alba.

Old, really old wines tasted recently

One of the little perks of working somewhere that purchases private cellars is that - you guessed it - occasionally you have the good fortune to taste what was in those private cellars.

We'll work backwards here and start from the mid 20th century, closing out with a couple of young, spritely madeiras from the 19th.


1954 Louis Martini Mountain Zinfandel Private Reserve

Simple, developed, spicy zin that is somehow still hanging in there. Interesting in the context of it being old wine that's still palatable and for the fact that the fruit hasn't completely faded rather than for it being truly interesting wine.

1942 Louis Martini Mountain Zinfandel Private Reserve

This has attained a rancio quality that overwhelms everything else. No longer drinkable.

1956 Louis Martini Cabernet Sauvignon Private Reserve

Nasty and sweaty, like used football or lacrosse pads. Not recommended. Unless used sweaty pads is what you're into in a glass of red wine.

1951 Louis Martini Cabernet Sauvignon Private Reserve

Best of the group, without a doubt. This had the interplay of sweet dark fruit and savory complexity that marks the best of aged California wine.

Those were interesting, but now for the real treats of last week. I have no idea which house these madeiras are from, as the labels are so worn and there are no clues that I could pick up anywhere.

1880 Madeira

I do not even know the grape varietal(s) here, though I would suspect that it is a single varietal as any vintage Madeira I have seen, either in person or listed somewhere, comes from a single varietal. Given the viscosity, sweetness level and intense spiciness of the wine, I'd guess that this was Malmsey. Rich, sweet, intense, and hella spicy. As if it were clove infused. But there was more than enough acidity to offset the other flavors and hold the wine together. A special bottle of wine.

Historical happenings in 1880 (courtesy of Wikipedia):

- In Menlo Park, New Jersey, Thomas Edison performs the first test of his electric railway.
- The University of Southern California opens its doors to 53 students and 10 faculty
- Wabash, Indiana becomes the first electrically lit city in the world.

1842 Terrantez

I love the acidity in vintage Madeira. When combined with the intensity and depth of flavors you get in these fortified wines, what you've got is something truly unique. I would argue that good vintage Madeira makes even well respected vintage port look terribly boring and one note by comparison. But that's like, just my opinion, man. Anyway, getting back to this 1842 terrantez. It was phenomenally fresh, loaded with complex aged flavors, juicy yet cutting acidity, and the velvety texture you'd expect with the 100+ years of bottle age.

Historical notes from 1842 (courtesy of brainyhistory):

- 1st illustrated weekly magazine in U.S. publishes 1st issue, New York City
- Ether was used as an anaesthetic for 1st time by Dr. Crawford Long
- Great Britain and China sign Treaty of Nanking, ends Opium war
- Seminole War ends; Indians removed from Florida to Oklahoma

If you are in SF, cuidado!

Laureano Serres is in town....

I have to apologize for a complete and utterly lazy go of it lately. I plan on locking myself in my room, with nothing but a wine glass, a few bottles of wine, and my computer, tonight and tomorrow night, writing some new posts for next week.

Happy fin de semana.