Necessary Cognac.

Tesseron X.O.

Nervousness…It’s not the most common emotion that I’m associated with, but whenever it tends to resurface, It has something to do with Brandy. Pondering the reasons why, I remember labeling the well-known spirit as a cantankerous misuse of peculiar grapes. No matter what its assigned title may be, there seems to be several modes of uncertainty as to what makes Brandywine a Cognac. Or, more importantly, what defines the staple if there’s a reverse side to production standards? Is it amiable distillation pray tell ? Yes, of course, because it has to be modeled by vision, experience and law-abiding practices. However, there’s a stillborn quality to some brandies that only reflect public inebriation, or again, a subject of misuse when it’s the lifeblood of homemade Sangria. Though still acting its part, this aperitif for the masses is still working within the old rehashed sentimentalities and post-cheesecake notions of remorse. I mean, its functionality was popularized when Lobster Thermidor and Cobb Salads were kindred; but here, it had a more graceful presence in closing-out a business luncheon, or even a patio-side oyster expo. Sadly though, time has compromised its glistening, coppertone hue, leaving upended marquees and bottle tops pouring mellifluously into sewer drains, or monogrammed snifters. Highfalutin or not, we still adore this piece of bygone convention, but as history indicates, functions new or old, usually resemble an interplay between redefinition and confusion.

Ugni Blanc, Colombard and Folle Blanche usually dispel Cognac’s anonymity when questions arise about overall production, or its token varietals. Though Ugni Blanc is the most prevalent and highly esteemed grape, many others temper and accentuate the occasionally brash spirit. It’s a belligerent spectacle if anything, considering its140-proof stature; that is, before it receives a sensible dilution. Copper still pots are the primary vessel in which the high-alcohol spirit is cultivated; which after a secondary distillation, the “Eau De Vie”  is poured into wood casks for an ageing period which usually lasts about two and a half years in length. Many other craftsmen go beyond the requisitioned laws and utilize ageing techniques that stall a product’s release for decades to come. In a rundown, V.S. Cognac is a “Very Special” one, and “V.S.O.P” is a grandfatherly “Old Pale” version with an overall sense of charm and a knack for storytelling. Though there’s an “X.O.” it doesn’t mean “X-tra Octogenarian” exactly, but if you want it to be, there’s a different name, and a higher price to pay for it. In terms of age, the V.S. requires three years in wood, V.S.O.P; at least eight, and the X.O., can be stored for a minimum of eight years as well, but averages show that with twenty years or more, it becomes suitably decadent. Now, “Napoleon” is by no means unimportant in terms of labeling, but due to its close relation to X.O, the appeal is lost with me. Ah yes, but to parry the striking brandies from “Grand Champagne” ¾that’s aren’t exactly bubbly¾ is a mistake, since they are the best liaisons from a central sub-region of Cognac proper.              

Lautrec V.S.O.P

You might have heard that “Cognac is brandy, but not all brandy is Cognac,” yes that is true, but for the least expensive, there’s no appointing any kind of statuary differences in terms of taste. Even for the most “reasonably-priced” stuff, there’s an unwavering potential for ‘big-time’ producers to launch new products, but very little focus is kept on maintaining an old-world, artisanal standard. With a broad idea as to what makes a great Cognac, the usual names that have graced pubs and internet sidebars over the years, will not be mentioned. Sorry to deflate whatever hopes you had at profiling your liquor cabinet all-stars, but this is not the blog where I focus on entities suffering from Rocky Balboa’s syndrome. Fight me if you will, but there’s two artisans that could really tweak our misunderstandings. For instance, I always liked Tesseron X.O. (Lot *90) for it’s ethereal character. Implicit minerals, carry through to a dense profile that‘s laden with tree fruits. A solid, somewhat tannic frame is wonderfully checked by wild honey and candied nuts. For a $50 price tag, it’s a remarkable investment even if you’re a discriminating enthusiast. If you want to economize,  Lautrec’s V.S.O.P is a great alternative to other cognacs which would have an otherwise polarizing tenacity. Tannin is sparse, but a significantly pure backdrop of stone fruit and crushed pebble is enticing. Spiced bread and ginger follow through to a suave, placid finish. Roust me for being too thrifty, but if you have your vices, thirty bucks will give way to euphoria.

I could have said something about the history of brandy, with its shadowy conscriptions dating back to the ancient Middle-East, or, I could have out-spun the popularity of Cognac itself, by bringing up Spain’s role in writing another chapter in the story of this eponymous spirit…but I didn’t. Maybe I should save tales of enthusiastic, drunken pirates and archeological findings for another post. I left out key information pertaining to “Petit Champagne” and disregarded the pertinence of “Fin Bois” and “Bon Bois” so as to leave some of the terms up to readers. The “BNIC” would probably be nipping at my ankles for that, but let them. As it was thought by me at one time, brandywine was nothing short of a low-grade fuel for poets and swordfighters; so in tandem, I leave this aesthetic and any following opinions for your own personal debates.

All I know, is that debauchery tastes like Cognac.


-Brian K. Maniotis
 
Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us online @: westchesterwine.com                    

The SxSW of France, That is.

Sarrabelle Gaillac

Say “Sud-Ouest !” just before jutting-out your pointed finger…and then, make the aforementioned exclamation with a hollow French accent. Emphasize the syllables and do not by any sense of parody, put stress on the vowels. You’re in due preparation for the unseemly dialect found in Southwestern France. Hold on though, because if you’re a trust-fund baby whose looking to spend some time abroad during your Sophomoric years, this might not be the place for you. Or is it ? Let’s be certain, Paris may be a better paradise for the typical student, but it has become a life staple; one particularly, that is only outdone by the fading interest of moving to Williamsburg, Portland, or Baltimore…which is more like an exile if you ask me. Half of my graduating class can still be found chewing Marconas in Valencia, Madrid, or Barcelona, but dashing for Spain, more or less, is a more cheeky exodus; and yet, still temporary. Odd though, since there’s more for post-grads to accomplish in the States, but personally, there’s more for me someday, in the village of Monbazillac. Sure, student tourists aren’t exactly what you would call unpopular in retrospect, but for those who brochure their way though the dirt routes of Bordeaux, this nearby region is a rucksacker’s pit of lamentation. If you do visit; for once, do not break-out the Nikons and disturb the peace. Sure, surround your focal points with wine …but do not, of all things, spoil the emblazoned setting for others who refuse the idyllic, post-digital memories of amateur camerawork.

Usually, Southwestern France is on the lack of itineraries when it comes to overseas ventures. Granted, the

allure of our destinations rest mainly on expert cities like Rome and Athens, but I say, forget them for awhile and don’t fall into the trap. Despite the virtual tangents that a Burgundy, or even a Rhone can produce, there are the least-visited appellations like Cahors, Madiran and Gaillac stemming from a region just south of

Gautoul Cahors

Bordeaux proper. You’ll find Malbec, Duras, Braucol, Fer and Tannat grapes growing here with the typical Merlot and Cabernet waning by. Some say, the varietals are one thing, but the wine is altogether simple, uninteresting and puerile. I doubt it, because if my starch-laden, casein-enhanced diet has proven anything to me, it’s that I can’t have goat cheese and croustilot campaigning for a Haut-Medoc, Nuit-Saint-George, or even a reasonable Côtes-Du-Rhône.

I would begin with “Gaillac,” an atypical red, showing notes of reglisse, patterns of candied fruit, and implicit gaminess. Usually we’re treated to Duras and Fer here, but sometimes, Syrah and Cabernet can exchange impacts like middleweight prizefighters. But a piece of advice though, see “Domaine Sarrabelle” for the post-knockout coverage. Think you’ve had a plum of a Malbec? “Cahors” has something to outshine the gleaming faces of Argentine benefactors. This little French appellation questions what the grape has been doing all this time in South America, when it could be producing notes of espresso, spice and stewed black fruits. A friend named “Gautoul” is happy to share these pleasantries.Perhaps the only appellate that has due influence over a buyer’s remorse, is “Madiran,” considering it’s lackluster youth. Even the pricier installments tend to leave us with a collector’s item, or a handful of impatient incubations. If you know “Tannat” then you have a good mind to lay these down for a couple of years. If blended with one of the two cultivars in the Cab family, or if you decide on something containing “Fer Servadou,” you’re nursing something with a brooding lust for grilled breads and dark fruit confit. Consider “Chateau Laffont” as the maternity ward for your next ‘wine child.’ 

Laffont Madiran

Whites? Not something I would fail to notice, because of the rich undulations they suggest. Jurançon produces wine of plushy excesses and fruit-inspired roundness, while equally harmonizing its dry whites with Petit Manseng, Gros Manseng and Corbu. Remember the mentioning of Monbazillac earlier ? Think Sémillon, Sauvignon and Muscadelle. I wouldn’t disagree for one minute that tropical fruits, cinnamon, honeysuckle and melon show through completely. Blancs that hail from the “Buzet” and “Bergerac,” AOC’s are worth a little more cellar time, but oddly enough, I see myself returning to Gaillac again; this time, I’ll be spelunking for golden gems.          

Normally, I go far beyond reasonable when it comes to Vins Des Cuisines, but since it is my most agreeable vice, I continue to report on them with a sense of partisanship only seen in politics. Admittedly, I begin to wonder if all my significant rants about food wine and restaurant touring are in some way myopic, but my opinions seem to be influenced by a festoon of winemakers who pay service to my own gluttony. I did not want to do this again to my readers, but like a child at a fireman‘s fair, I cannot resist saying: “Again! Again!” Somehow, this lawfully-binding wine tour of mine has me taking rides all over the place; the trips are Gallic, but again…that’s me.

In no specific order, there's an odd connection between France, myself, human beings, food and wine. 

-Brian K. Maniotis
 
Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us online @: westchesterwine.com       

Teeming or Tottering ?

H&B Minervois

There’s every reason to be perplexed by wine vocabulary. In any form of sense, adjectives like, “angular, backward, dumb and ponderous” are just some of the more interesting keywords. However referential you like to be, it is nothing that requires consistent rumination; funny though, considering that the term “classless” seems to erupt out of your mouth if you’re without the arsenal proper. Maybe for once, I am willing to agree that describing something puritanically liquid, is somewhat difficult; that is, depending on the origin of its containment. Often, we are confronted with a lack of understanding wine, because we just don’t have the time to consult Merriam-Webster every time we tilt our glasses to absorb the pure lusciousness. Perhaps the true luxuries of the world need no positive, or negative buzzwords attached to them in order to formally describe what we have enjoyed for centuries. Off the record, I think laughing out loud has been the defining principle for me, when I loosely ponder what “Barnstable” means. I would attribute these jovial fits of mine, to somehow outline the metaphysical nightmares one could have, if they simply think of “horses, cowpies and farmers” as discernable nuance. For all of the worldly grape lots and sunshine, I would bet that the sort of tabloid interest in creating such a stink of wordiness, would almost appear to be somewhat animalistic.

But what about “Balance?” that word makes undeniable sense, no matter if it pours into, or out of your mouth. Getting to know it, should all be manageable in due time, if you know your producers, or participate in the remedial sport of wine diving. It is still one of the more difficult terms to understand, because everyone is entitled to an opinion. However, for less than a minute, let’s try to extricate this common term. Take for instance, tannins, acidity, fruit, weight, and yes, the conceptual nuances. They should all work very well in unison, partaking in an almost democratic function on our palates, without any one trace of each seeking potential dominance. We’re not looking for highly extracted, or insignificant pips of fruit notes, but there has to be something practical suggested within your glass. Oddly, I have witnessed too often, the study of equilibriums in Pinot Noir, so much in fact, it's been nearly ‘ad hoc’in its astuteness. What I would feel so content to say, is that most people should find the one bottle that makes the most sense for them. Money has a big part in deciding the overall “finesse” you receive, but could I be incorrect myself, by so abrasively using the “F-Word” on this blogsite.

My interpretation is, that subtle tannins in your tea, are good tannins in wine. Weight is marginal, and “medium-to-full bodied” is where I draw the line. Acidity may be construed as “brightness” and could be, in other words, inconspicuously hidden. We’re certainly looking for complexities, but not a closed fist aimed far beyond the reaches of our palate. Fine, knock me out, but just enough so that I don’t lose my focus, or something much, much worse. For example, I don’t want to partake in the same remorse others have, especially when good capital is spent on young, lackluster wine. That’s the only drawback to this idea of tempering the values of fermentation in order to succeed in creating “balanced” end products. If it’s worth it to you, I have made a couple of discoveries that may describe what all of this really indicates. Take for instance,
“Bookster Chardonnay;” a milestone, heaven willing, in Californian viticulture that stresses the in-between factor in developing focused whites. Now, you probably have visions of butter churning and pie apples

Bookster Chard

baking; ah, but as I have seen with two vintages now,  it is surely going to be an artful picture. It doesn’t diverge too much from notes of tree fruits and lactic undulations, but the savory and sweet notes do not seem concentrated and packed into a corner. It is with good reason, one I obsess over, just due to the fact that I have been overwhelmed by wispy-thin, citric Chards that actually feel like liquid grenades inside my mouth. I’ll leave the negativity of these ill-endorsed whites to the past, but I have to say their flintiness and sulfuric backgrounds are pretty similar to explosives and their potential for creating residue. Red though, is different. For me, it is my closest vice and it always will be. However, I am currently amused with something new. Hecht & Bannier’s, “Minervois” was mainly surprising, if not effectual in its sense of equality. Expanding on that, I really thought that a Rouge considered to be somewhat “Meaty” could be anything but finessed. Somehow, beyond spiciness, pitchy dried fruits and the overall sanguine nature of the bottle, it all came together. The herbal notes were an interesting touch also, with Syrah, Grenache and Carignan awarded for good philanthropy. A pity for the pricey, reticent vintages the world over, which test your patience and the P.S.I of your wallet.          

Don’t get me wrong, everyone can whittle away at their own beliefs, or even mine. I have an idea as to what makes a great bottle regardless of what the interpretative nature of wine, or what the attached vocabulary can allow. Even dissecting what “balance” means in the end, is somewhat indefinite for those who are practitioners, or participants in the enjoyment thereof. References are always helpful, but if “precocious, tarried, leafy, unctuous, spritzy, fun and matchstick” are proper terms, then maybe, I should come up with some of my own.           

Do words like “dishabille, poopy, sycophantic, fuddy-duddy, or yolky, offer any insights?

-Brian K. Maniotis
 
Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us online @: westchesterwine.com

La Crianza Loco

Savia Del Sole Crianza

I’m usually the speculative type when it comes to information. Maybe it’s the years I’ve spent in disciplinary journalism, or, quite possibly, my sleight-of-hand motions in the kitchen that have made me adherent to strict details. Which is funny, because the sheer practicality of items, or certain designations, important or trivial, are oftentimes not worth any concern to me. Sometimes, reading monikers, proverbs, denominal information, passages and orts of cumulative data are completely for naught. I respect the influential nature of proper listings, or any other piece of good research, but I’m just as much an organism nose-deep in whatever niche this kindly planet has sufficed for me. An environ of wine, which you probably guessed, is where I judge and contemplate things. Not like the elders of the past who so keenly reckoned well-known tidbits of philosophy, but rather, this person whose writing makes the reds and whites of the world appear somewhat accessible and…presentable, if that makes sense. I know reading labels can be a helpful tool in understanding your choices. However, for some, it’s more of a way to properly remind drinkers about what’s going to happen on their palates. Who knows? There might be a machine, other than an enomatic wine dispenser, that can eliminate a monotony of contemplations when outlining the truths of terrain, varietals and ageing methods. Nope, just trust in Spain…scan the bottle and taste the predilection.

“Crianza” for some, is an inert word that branches into many things. There are scattered treasure chests of

proper descriptions and overall misinterpretations, but I don’t think anyone is quite sure what to believe.

When it comes to refreshing my understandings, sometimes I feel like I’m a paralegal thumbing through a guidebook of terminologies that are all based in Latin. Well, of course, by some stretch of history it’s definitely Latin, but more importantly, getting the factoids right can be an uncomfortable, anonymous carnival ride where you turn up soaking wet at the end. What I would say, is that “Rioja” and the “Ribera Del Duero” regions tend to have the similar ideas when it comes to ageing strata. Here, identical  Tempranillo, or “Tinto Fino” grapes are coaxed into younger specialties, which have been aged for at least 12 months in oak. But wait, sometimes they are not released until two years after the harvest; ok, that’s odd, because I find that some Bodegas hold on to them longer than that! So, I’m beginning to think there’s some extra ageing going on here inside the bottle. Very interesting to say the most, because the “Reserva” reds of Rioja and Ribera tend to have three years of capable polishing, with that familiar stipulation that whatever the barrel contains, it must endure an entire annum.

So, where am I to draw the familial line here between Crianza and Reserva ? What does it mean to be if laws so succinctly apply a younger, more virile upstart in the common consumption of wine? Most other regions with any “Denominación De Origen” can lawfully abscond from this practice, by making “Sin Crianzas,” which do not bear the same regulatory standards. Age it for six months, or twelve? It depends on the imaginations of vintners I guess. Somewhere by promise, the “Joven” varieties should be promoted as the

Marques Caceres

‘Big C’ instead; seriously quaffing, this concept of producing the youngest wines in Spain seems to be more of an object-lesson, rather than something definite. Maybe that’s the real issue here, since this is honest winemaking from a country with a panache for dealing with otherwise inhospitable growing conditions. Especially since winemakers are, more or less, beacons of philosophy, rather than commoners who operate within the exact tenants of production laws. Good wine is mandatory, so rules and regulations should be positively skewed to make use of unfavorable situations, conditions and etcetera.            

All I can implore, is that most Crianzas I’ve had are similarly “younger” reds which are still indefinitely juvenile, but often strengthen the appeal of morcellated bits of meats, proteins and a variety of aged manchegos. Savory, salty, it doesn’t matter…all that does, can be summed-up in dashes of pimenton and the occasional seafood dishes that make these Spanish reds so accessible. There’s a couple you cannot do without: The edgy “2008 Sierra Cantabria” for one, while “Savia Del Sol” has a 2007 vintage that is probably one of the most approachable on the market; which conveys a richer, more palate-friendly item with an unconventional presence of fruit. Though flattery is still placed on an old college favorite of mine that’s never ambiguous in its satisfaction. You probably know Marqués De Cáceres, but even I need to be re-introduced at times. Impudent or not, you can expect dark spices, plum, overall vigor and yet, a suave competency that seems to adhere strictly to Spain’s growing number of popular exports.

Usually, I’m a provacateur of reds, but in purpose, the Crianza factor still remains true for whites. As you may guess, the ageing times for these are variably shorter, but still make some affable Blancos that delicately muse upon the world’s underwater creatures. Now, I do endorse Garnacha and Monastrell oftentimes as I can partake, but the paellas and Ibérico hams are just too indulgent…I hate to admit it, but sometimes, letting go of the things you prate on and on about, is just imperative.

Make way for something fresh, bright and…an old favorite?

-Brian K. Maniotis
 
Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us online @: westchesterwine.com