$ As a Backdrop.

Screaming Eagle

This might not be a revolutionary concept, but it’s always a good one to begin talking about. It’s that controversial idea which belies almost every single trace of purchasing strata that the worldwide population is entreated to. You know, It’s that all-time, supposedly never-fail, threadbare buying power that you see amongst stock-brokers, wine spongers, or those geek-collectors who want cumulative bragging rites. It’s the horrible penchant that one sees in humans, where something seen as the “most expensive” item is described in nacreous, or completely superlative terms. I have voluntarily listened to all the self-gratifying axioms, but I can see why so many people remorsefully begin to perorate about the upscaling wine market; especially, when good men, the fortunately shrewd, and the bankrupted many have to contend with Bordeaux, Auctioneer’s bottles, or those notoriously higher-end cult favorites.

Saying that you cannot buy a severely memorable bottle for thousands of dollars is one chapter, the next, is somehow laid out in a sullen, more gritty narrative where a person, for example, is cued to remain silent about an inner burden pertaining to the subjective worth of their wine experience. Did the exchange prove meaningful enough? Who really knows. Those who have the generous ability to be contrite, especially when care is taken to promote a personally agreeable facade of fibbing and bemusing, know of the scrutiny they face, if, in front of their peers, they seem any bit remonstrative about their big purchase. ‘Pfft! Poor fool, spent all that money on a seven-hundred and fifty mils worth of pure grape juice!‘ Sure, it sounds made-up, but would something like this come to mind if a buyer is suddenly challenged to be admired, or faced with critical admonition? Again, who knows? The point is, that it’s sometimes difficult to see into the purpose of the luxury wine trade, especially when so much is expected from a single price tag.                   

La Mission Haut-Brion.

What I’m afraid of most of the time as a consultant, is creating an air of high expectancy when it comes to pricey merchandise. Most of the time, customers have an unchecked, and equally subliminal belief that an expensive wine is supposed to be gratuitous, or is supposed to unveil something that could have been previously intangible. Nothing could be less truthful in this business. For example, you’ve probably made some topical conversations about “Screaming Eagle,” a Cabernet that has created a en-mass struggle to be understood by indomitable critics and the common sipper. Most people who have already drawn from their accounts, probably know that the capabilities range, depending on what kind of drinker you are. If you’re into something more belligerent, more pugnacious, say, like a Rhone red, you’re probably not going to be wholly impressed. However, if you enjoy the promise of all the finesse and structure available to Cabs, then your money and your satisfaction is worth the exchange. 

I usually enjoy all types of wine, price isn’t the issue, but sometimes it is. I know the potential fear that people have when confronted with big names and those with bigger pockets who are looking to increase speculation in the Bordelais and Bourgogne. “Chateau La Mission Haut-Brion” is one of my favorites, but I have to be careful in my assessment of its vintages. Sure, that’s where complexity arises for the money, but if I cannot get an earful of what the next year will bring to the Chateau’s precocious little upstarts, I’m venturing elsewhere and lapping-up something far more reasonable.

Honestly, at the end of the night, it’s about the practicality, right?    

     

Brian Maniotis 

Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

Abruzzo: Plain and Simple.

Rubesto Montepuliciano

Mispronunciation is one of its stronger points. That’s not good, at least, if you live in the States perhaps. The eloquence, or the pretension needed to sound-out the words takes some time, but no one is holding you to that standard. What most people recognize, is the unapologetic way it conforms to almost every Italian entree known to the genus: “homo-spiritualis.” Sure, maybe not to their next bowl of “Maritata,”  but its cohesive bonds are represented in something practical, something, “good.” For us, it’s an innate sense of enjoyment that the ponderous can disavow, thus making those conversations we have, to be worth every agreeable difference; which is why these wines are so beneficial to commoners and friends. Though some would argue that there’s a gross abundance of imports from Abruzzo--which is considerably true in many ways--it’s only a question of the viewpoints that gauge their successes. Despite monotonous production and the stereotypical views that can be thwarting and wholly damaging, a stellar Montepuliciano seems to be outshone by all others wanting shelf space and a chance to gain some artisanal recognition.    

I love a good Montep; yes, that’s what I scribble on most of my inventory sheets, because there’s no need for full documentation, or for that matter, pronunciation. Most people know what I’m talking about, and any perennial lover of wine should plainly understand. It doesn’t have anything to do with those modes of snarky conversation at parties, or any correlative that happens to ‘snub-out’ anything under thirty-dollars a bottle, but begins with that irrepressible reasonability I love so much. I like it, because it’s a honest-market peasant wine that leaves people feeling jaded and misguided; and often enough, it unveils items purchased with so much remorse, that buyers need therapists schooled in the offbeat grace of oenology to ease their timely woes. Perhaps, I’ve said too many times that a good bottle of wine is usually the most reasonable one, but anything from Abruzzo, is one of the most practical, yet workable mechanisms. 

Once, it was a haven for overproduction, but as of late, this southern region has been outdoing their own respectable crafts. Which is not bad for a district of Italy that has seen it’s share of imperialism and a polychromatic influx of ideas and acculturations. It still stands far from a past where supermarket wines dominated the U.S. trade, while the Montepuliciano and other grapes were primarily sent northward to be used as blending agents for various castles and vineyards in the countryside. However, the appeal is much less strained now that producers are recognizing that it can conform to a “boutique” style of sensibility in winemaking. 

Cocociola Terre Valse

What are some of the traits? Who knows...It has something to do with rusticity, but that’s not quite the answer. The presence of earth, savory elements and the culpability of fruit is something to look forward to in wine, but with this varietal being so versatile, possibilities are still being examined. Right now, I’m drinking one from Rubesto that has a succinct wrap-around of sauteed red fruits, suggesting strawberry-raspberry, but has a depth of grilled peach and sweet tobacco. I was confounded, and yet unsurprised at the fact that even a red wine figured into the spectrum of fruit usually journaled in white varietals. Also, despite the prominence of Montepuliciano in our market, there is esteem for one of the most obscure Italian grapes known to vintners worldwide. Known as “Cococciola,” it’s a white wine that builds comparisons on nuances, that are in some form, facetiously composed  from most winemakers’ illicit daydreams about hybridizing Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc. Nothing could be further from the truth, as though we were to believe that, it’s pretty interesting to think so. If anything, it resembles a Verdelho with a touch of Chard backing its madcap personality. Think about cinnamon apple, toasty coconut and citrus fruits; it’s weird, but certainly true. 

I like Abruzzi. The two wines I mentioned are no less than twelve, or sixteen bucks apiece, and they pay off. Aside from the countenance of others, it seems that this region still has a lock on feasibility and good taste. I wonder though, why we haven’t seen more. I tend to think on the auspices of pricing, but it doesn’t mean everything. What I believe, is that southern Italy is a great foreground for delicious wine, even when you think about Sicily or Calabria, but what we’re waiting for in the aforementioned, is a deliberate renaissance in wine crafting. I don’t know exactly, if it’s happening now, or will eventually arrive on some more beatific level, but all I’m hoping for, is to sample just a little bit of the experience.

It’s like having tickets on the “will-call” of wine drinking. 

Brian Maniotis

Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com 

Dias De Los Tequilas

Kah Blanco 

With a gust of sand-wind, silence and nothing else, the agave plant rests for years until mature enough to be understood. The potential meaning in this, falls on those spiked, azure tendrils that release a comprehensible nectar acting as the lifeblood of an industry; which has, more or less, compelled beliefs that creating only three distinct forms of it’s prized spirits, has something to do with with both life, living and death. You can take that to such literal zeniths, but please, be calm...the intent is to use figurative language here. However, business rites claim that its commercial manufacture, or well-manicured paradigms, should represent something similar to a biblical triptych, where these three images relate: Blanco, Reposado and Anjeo. It’s not difficult to see where this theme is going, but it proves to be distinct enough for those who have sat down and wondered about birth, demise, or skullduggery of any sort. Whether or not life is meant to rest easily while sipping on something more complex than ourselves, or to scale-up the humdrum mawkishness of being, “pulque,” as it is called, won’t make any sort of life more tolerable. 

Kah Reposado

It’s Tequila. Most people don’t know it, but those who do, still don’t. It seems that there’s an almost blatant hierarchy of subcultures that identify with the spirit, but there’s never really any exploration done. While we’re here, I might as well point out the players: You have “Margaritas,” not the cocktails so much, but those people who feel there’s very little worth to any of it, except, maybe, for a bland lesson in the burlesque nature of salt and fruit. There’s “Tidymen,” those who enjoy it strictly on ice, plain, or sometimes, without temperate highs and lows. Thirdly, “Students” are those who make the ill-fated choice to drink whatever’s there, when it’s there, without considering exactly “how much.” One of my favorites tends to be “The Insouciant,” who by large, you may not run into as often, but you really don’t want to. They’re like the “one-upper,” a jaded, inconsolable participant who thinks that people rarely appreciate such an underrated class of liquor, when in actuality, there’s no necessary comparisons, or intellectual browbeating needed to feel better than the next collector. He, or She has an exciting cellar of rarified, obscure, stolen, or illegal tequilas that makes an aficionado, but not any one those persons who really understand the scrabbling one needs to perform in order to make their own. Sure, they might have planned a trip to Mexico and got a tour of several distilleries, but I’m sure by now, you’ve absorbed the caricature. 

Ok, enough assassination, let’s get to the body of the topic. Given the sort of  pleasant popularity that Tequila has enjoyed as an accepted party-favor, or libation of credit, the bottles have not remained artless in their ability to raise questions about signature styles. Usually, the mythical misconception is that all of them tend to cause heavy convolution and sickness on par with drinking cheap, plastic-handle bourbon. That is still the case in some areas, but perhaps the most elusive gray point about good “T” is which one to buy. Now, I’m not always a label-chaser, or a sucker for eyeball marketing, but I have to admit that “KAH” has me drawn away from one of the rules that I strictly adhere to. Yes, this time, it’s about the art inside and out. Like I said, there’s three different age groups: Blanco, Reposado and Anejo. From beginning to end, they physically see more barrel ageing. Rather than make all the distinctions necessary to outline the differences, you’re basically getting the gist of a younger spirit versus an older one, or something that sits right in the middle. What I can say, is that the purity of the agave plant is shown in all three, with some spicier, citrusy elements forming in the two elder types. Regardless, it is all handcrafted, including the painted skull-shaped bottles. 

Kah Anejo

I don’t always agree with artwork on any bottle, but this time it’s a bit of logic mixed with something cultural; realistically, the skulls give mention of a prominent Mexican holiday where the dead are remembered and revisited through something creative and very human. Maybe I’m too observant, but the illumination of the skulls represents a rebirth when they are so carefully adorned. A concern though, is when the bottles are finished...is there enough room in the house to keep a trove of skulls? You might have to give some away if you’re not an occultist, or a Tequila lover, but the fact seems to always pertain to the flavor of things. I would like to point out that the $50 price tag for each, is quite an investment, but there’s actually four bottles including the “Extra Anejo,” which is dotted with actual crystals. That itself will run up to about $200, which can add up in the end. So, In spite of the character of the bottles and the undivided quality, those eager collectors have some decisive matters to account for. 

Lest they be dead, broken, or a combination of both. 

Brian Maniotis

Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

“Operation: $10.99”

Lancatay Cab

It’s a problem...an indefinite dilemma that bothers even the savviest of consumers. It really has nothing to do with type, or any formality that may exist in this leviathan info-tract culture of ours. Forget the difference between soft tannins, or sweet ones; see if possible, past the truest representation of the “cepage,” in your glass. Who really bothers anymore in knowing how “ullage” is clearly defined, or when to ruminate on whether “unctuous” means anything at all. I’m not whizzing by and throwing verbal orts at you, but on the transverse, I believe none of it is important as trying to figure out what “value” means in wine. I don’t know exactly what it pertains to anymore. Considering that the disposable term has become less of a word and more of a painful onus, buyer’s bouts of denial have led them to manifest projects where self-esteem is temporarily renewed in the purchase of cheaper bulk items; good deals are somewhere, and looking for them are people who think that anything above the eleven-dollar mark is purely unacceptable and not worth exhausting any bit of one’s bravado.            

Well...that’s a definite yes and no, but what people are so afraid of is,  to supersede the $10.99 mark. Some tend to think the inherit problems in buying anything “expensive” belongs somewhere above this price point and an immaterial line is drawn to represent it. I have no problem with reasonable wine, but there’s solace for those who don’t feel it’s necessary to go above and beyond the preternatural task of buying say; Hmmm, I don’t know, something that’s fifteen bucks or more? Fine, if you’re interested, then there’s plenty of courage to muster in finally going with something cheaper and thoughtfully crafted.

Andes Torrontes

Take a Torrontes from Sur De Los Andes. I might have used them as a blind creditor to my critical examples before on some level, but here they are again, but this time, it’s with a white wine instead. After all, you can’t blame an excellent producer can you? Crisp, floral and touching on some feathery notions of young cassava and honeycomb, it’s a good chance that I can bring this home and have my guests wondering on how much it costs and why I make overwhelming attempts in compulsively lying to those I talk to. Red is important too, so I figure you deserve some highlights on that as well.  Not surprisingly, Argentina has a way with me and I can’t seem to ignore the basic fact that since the country has outstanding wine for the money, it falls prey to talks about thriftiness. Still, at least I picked this Cabernet from Lancatay as the second participant in this lovable charade of mine. It’s all mocha, all black currants and the berries to spare, but with that ignominious touch of oak that’s rolled into a genuine flavor-bomb. In keeping with my accord, it’s too sexy for just $10.99 and I don’t have the marbles to get over it. 

Is there really a proof positive example of good wine for the money? Despite what we spend, isn’t there some “aftereffect” that occurs when money is exchanged for goods and other dealings? In all of our opinions, whether or not something is cost-effective, or not, does it make sense? Of course, no one wants to be relegated to spend one-hundred dollars for one bottle, but I assure you, It’s worth it if you know what you’re doing. On the opposite, it still helps if you know a little something about what your buying at any cost. The chief thing to understand though, is that reasonability is the key to moderation and enjoyment of most everything. Which is something I’m likely to bank on if It really meant something to me. My advice would be to make friends with a trade specialist who can get you on the floor of a wine expo.

Well, after all, that’s how I usually drink for free in any event.

Brian Maniotis 

Wine Warehouse Team      

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

An Obvious Relationship.

Esporao Olive Oil 

Drizzle, pour, fry, or simmer, It makes no difference. You know about the correlatives that take on a certain, if not indirect, human approach to eating well. Usually meaning, in some manner, there’s going to be good food associated with that most famous libation that serves as a culinary equal. Since biblical times, the serving of good wine was only outdone when there were better provisions, or when your assembly became too inebriated to know the difference between gluttony and parsimony. Over time, the chalices and the glasses began to appear as if they were filled to a near overflow, now brimming with the greener sentiments of winemakers and tree pruners alike. But what would happen If this junction between something verdant and powerfully carmine were to become popular enough? Could it prove to be a union that anyone could understand? Forget the utopian belief that there’s any duality, or any secondary dimension to this eating and drinking practice, because more so than ever, a new trifecta now offers something deliciously tangible. 

It doesn’t take even the simplest guess to know exactly why this almost tertiary part of our cooking projects has evaded our dinner table for so long. Well, enough vagary. All this is about, has to do with the practice of utilizing your olive oil in a way, to reflect the tender cares of the wine baron that makes it for you. Yes, you can actually peruse through your grocery store now to find not only what the winemaker is crushing, but what he, or she is cold-pressing. You may recall that it’s not uncommon for some who own vineyards, to also have a tree somewhere that can be plucked in order to create something with enough richness and green unctuousness to fortify soup, salad and red sauces alike. Not to say that wine cannot do the same, but there are striking gastronomic bounds for consumers to make; especially those who believe in producers that easily diversify between two things that can be complemented with similar adjectives. 

Frescobaldi Olive Oil

You’re probably wondering about the “Who?” and the “Where?” aspects of this post, and assuredly, I’m going to answer your questions. Ideally, the whole search really ends up being too easy if you’ve ever been to a Whole Foods market, or stepped-in to a gourmandize’s corner shop that excels in all things foreign. But what’s interesting and most easy to grasp, is that if you’ve ever seen a bottle of Frescobaldi Chianti, then you’re in luck, because the same quality that they reserve for the Sangiovese grape is nothing but a transport for the bottling of the most ubiquitous agent used in Italian cooking aside from tomatoes and garlic. If you’re not the type to agree with predictability, Portugal is quickly becoming a place where the marketing, distribution and overall consumption of wine and oil, is becoming more confluent. Like any of the reds, whites, or the irreplaceable vino verde, the interest in Portuguese products have wained, leaving the country to examine the potential successes of adding “Azeite” to their portfolio. If Monte Velho is something you can easily recall, then you would know there’s a red blend and an unblended sort of golden-greenery that each cost ten dollars and only require a little extra change. “Esporao” is a bit more familiar as the responsible producer, but it’s “Galega” olives are presented on your table side.   

What’s most striking, is the strict regard in which both Italy and Portugal have held their grapes and olives. The finished exports are expertly scrutinized well beyond recognized denominational practices, and continue to dominate our thinking when it comes to “good taste.” It’s sometimes hard to compare oil and wine, but there’s a nice similarity to the concept that one can work just as hard to bolster nuance from two different fruits that yield the same olfactory and gustatory sensations. One may not be as practical over the other, but with personal reasons dividing our potential excitement, who is to say that either is better? It’s like the Tea Vs. Coffee epidemic, but without the same need to polish-off a bottle of something labeled: “Extra-Virgin.” All I can say, is that the shelf-life of pressed olive pulp is evidently longer than the typical red, or white; which makes me wonder...How is it that we can mentally grasp spending ten-to-fifteen dollars on a cuvée that lasts forty-eight hours and never on something that can generate meals for an entire month?

Sorry olives, you’re just not equipped for instant gratification.

Brian Maniotis

Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com