Thursday, April 26, 2012

What I Like From Friuli


Bressan Schioppettino
Exacting what I must, I tend to always give the proper opinion, or least I think I do, on certain items that come to my attention every so often. The potential subject may have something to do with the utmost relevance, or just be part of some reasonable quirk of mine that happens to interest me at the current time. What I can say, is that in most cases , it tends to strike me dumb when I least expect it, and I have no recourse but to shun everything else that may be of an indefinitely lesser importance. Sure, I’ve tried to be honest as possible, but for the untimely gift of suggestion; i.e.,  “recommendations,” I honestly have something here that I think you’ll like. All the verbal tid-bitting and “hey, look at this!” mentality of my posts have either brought readers to gainfully dismiss my profiling of wine and spirits, so they can move on with their more exciting, more expensive wine, which they probably are.  
Ergo, I have Schioppettino in mind, partly because it’s fairly unknown to the common buyer, and it’s from the Fruili area where Pinot Grigio is still seated within  its cruel, almost laughable kingship of sorts. The varietal is red, it’s certainly not the product of feminine overseas interest, but it’s still elegant as it is powerful. The more you drink it, oh wait, the more I drink it, the closer I become to realizing there’s few wines which are able to uproot the old passions and proclivities that forwarded me into this business. It’s obscure, sure, it’s from Northeastern Italy, and you would probably find Refosco much sooner, but the little indigenous grape that almost faced extinction, is now being recognized as a successful single varietal that doesn’t need any tempering whatsoever. 
I Had Bressan’s 2005 vintage, which for me was a savage treat, because it was actually affordable, and I felt a certain uprisen carnality occur in my being, because the power of this Schioppettino was frightening. A sultry, dark crimson color, fitted with tightly knit legs, about two millimeters apart, came through to a medium-to-full-bodied frame that opened up into densely-packed, ultra-concentrated handful of strawberries and raspberry. A slight undertow of black fruits and leather, with notes of juniper and sweet woodland herbs followed. It nearly makes one quiver thinking about the finish as-is, but the experience is the real exception here. So far, the appeal is probably all my own, but whichever, the fact remains that I can actually feel a certain candor about discovering something that years ago, could have been extinct, or worse, limited to an old Italian winemaker’s backyard.
I just thought I would share that with readers this week. Not because I’m gloating, but it’s nice once and awhile to feel reminded of why I wake up every morning trying to extract the conscious and subconscious elements of wine and its participating creators. I do not however, enjoy the early morning, but It’s just another obfuscation before another sip of that Italian red wine I’m so obsessed with lately. I keep asking myself how grapes alone are responsible for so much, and I think I found an culpable answer to my question. Is it nature? Or just something that just happened with the right pair of human eyes, or intervention? I guess if there was no one around to make it, then I wouldn’t be enjoying it right? 
Well, I guess my next path in life is winemaking...but I doubt it. 
Brian Maniotis
Wine Warehouse Team
Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

Thursday, April 19, 2012

By any other name...

Dalton 

It’s basically rosé season...you know what that means in my world. Red wine takes a brief respite in order to make due for the impromptu heat waves and the springtime interim. White wine is still available, but it doesn’t seem quite as interesting compared to the incarnadine splendor of something much more revealing, more esoteric. Summer is basically on route, and tends to arrive before the first ice cream cone is dropped on the curb; a complete mess found melting on its downside, with flies and bees hymning around, making you wonder if there’s any allegorical reference to the mention of this incomparable frozen treat. Well, sort of. Think about all of the post-winter showcases that tend to surface, everything from salads, to linguini primavera, chilled coffee and tea, being languorously emphasized. Conjure the images of how most of these things are taken for granted; salads nibbled, picked-through with slow and pretentious forking, pastas demarcated to brown-baggery, iced drinks sucked down to cold cubes; any entertainment, if ever, finalized in stirring a straw within plastic containers, creating noises resembling that of a bird caller, or the boisterous cackle of an angry goose.  
That is not the case with rosé though, as you may have seen, it gets pretty exciting. Of course, there’s a lot of revenue to be had in making sure there’s enough for North America to swallow, but there’s a certain appeal that is unmistakable. Granted, the effect is simple; bound in practicality, accessibility, and overall, made to be really easy to drink, it has its place during oppressively hot summer months. People seem to drown themselves in the effects of weathering decadence, but as a result, the most prevalent symptoms of this, are the conventional misunderstandings we share about seasonal crap. It is certainly not crap, far from “blush,” and is usually not fortified and sweet, but better regarded as a completely dry indulgence. They come in shades from “Saumon,” to plasma red, and depending on where they come from, the impression you get from tasting them alone will surely differ. I tend to like rosés from just about anywhere, and most wine producing nations are happy to oblige, considering it’s a simple practice of fermenting red grapes while only letting the skins remain for a short time. Hence, you have a product that creates that classic pink translucence. 
Senorio De Iniesta
But taste? That’s the issue, because again, since the 1970’s, the idea of anything resembling a white zinfandel, was commonly associated with sappy, unstructured wine; which, to my own misunderstanding, the notion still exists today. No, that is not the proper mindset, being that the most definitive items, are usually crisp, or mostly dry. Not all of them, but most are. The way I describe it, a great rosé should present itself like a phenomenal white wine, conveniently made with red grapes. This might sound confusing for Champagne enthusiasts, but we’re not venturing to that point. However, selective favoritism, and renowned producers have maintained my practical theorems on this subject. Senorio De Iniesta makes fantastic wine altogether, but that off-crimson color from their "Bobal" grape, is almost too alluring. Think blood orange marmalade, candied ginger and cherry cordial interspersed with hints of macerated grapefruit. I’m serious, this is no joke about it, these are quintessential nuances! Slightly chilled, the effect is something to marvel at in this burgeoning Spanish fanfare of sorts. Now, for all those people who think I’m opposed to something with crucial nods towards sweetness, you’re wrong. “Dalton” has a fairly ripe, fruit-forward style, with a naturally resounding sweetness that doesn’t appear fortified, or abjectly “messed-with.” Think young plums, crushed flowers and strawberry coulis. Oh, and it’s a great Israeli wine to boot, completely “Kosh” too. Still, both are well under twenty bucks, and worth it, despite how flowery, ultra-effeminate, metrosexual, or emasculated it makes most guys appear. Seriously dude, don’t worry, there’s no harm in drinking anything pink this summer. Your girlfriend and, or wife, will appreciate your modular sensitivity.
Though the ultimate problem with rosé is not the making, but the appeal, or the fear of personal reprimand for people who tend to believe there’s nothing offered in the way of total fulfillment. That’s completely wrong, as the interest of more contemporary wines in this category has increased tenfold. There’s such a food-borne versatility for these roseate entries, being that they can pair with everything from grilled red meats, salads, and even those mild, or hearty curry dishes. They also make fresh, affordable sangrias and have the performing nuances that would outshine some of the best red and white wines in their price bracket. You may take a seasonal approach to drinking it, but for all intents, it’s profitable to utilize them all year round. A wine store won’t simply give it away after the summer, so take advantage of the fact that it’s always around for your disposal.
Lest, you dispose of it improperly...but that’s your own problem. 
Brian Maniotis
Wine Warehouse Team

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Organic Panic

Pacific Redwood
Don’t be alarmed, there’s no actual reason to create, or partake in pandemoniums that do not exist. You might have read the title and thought so, but really, keep relaxing, as it is more alarming to see one’s health deteriorate exponentially. On some paranoiac level, I have at times, wondered about what I drink, and exactly how the base product was cultivated. People seem to share the same fears for just about anything imbibed or eaten these days, but how many are actually willing to go the organic route? I do not necessarily condone any one gastronomic habit, but I always like to adhere to the benefit of the doubt; more or less,  it means believing in that round, green emblem that says, in some way, “This product is sustainably farmed, and just as bio-dynamically perverse as great-grandpa’s chicken farm, you know, the one that existed two-and a half centuries ago?" Fine, you may be a newcomer to the concept of utilizing less technological intervention when it comes to harvesting, but some would argue, even unto their potential demise, that there’s something really quizzical to all this temporal naturalization of the human diet.  
Ever hear of SO2? That’s Sulfites. Basically, the most recognizable culprit, as it is a common preservative...oh? But what kind is it exactly? The one that keeps the freshness coming and eventually prevailing; not the good freshness either, it’s like the one you would see permeating those fruits that somehow, do not mold-over and do not implode with natural rot. Granted, there have been worse things done to wine, but shouldn’t we be talking about prevalence? Well...yes, because there’s a long history to inorganic practices and all-round salaciousness that’s been associated with winemaking. Does methanol ring a bell? Do notions of antifreeze come into play when thinking of white wine? If you’re thinking they’ve played their part, they have been...it’s on court record. This sort of scandal has not been uncommon, but it has it’s disagreeable place in basic consumption.
Hofer G.V.
You want purity, that’s for sure, no one wants to live near a smoldering tire yard, or a demolition site, but we try the best we can. There is relief though from the common thought that wine is supposed to be finessed and pure, but let’s face it, people really like money. Perhaps that’s why a good number of producers have been brought to court for their actions, but for the fear of legal brouhaha, we’re not talking about them tonight. I do however, have some interesting alternatives, and suggest going with those nouveau producers who are trying to be more squeaky-clean than their olden predecessors. I tend to like Pacific Redwood, sounds simple, and it is, because it’s all-organic, vegan, contains no added sulfites and for oddness sake, it’s non-vintage. That would cause some eyebrows to inflect, but the truth is in the taste, it’s pure assessment of berry fruits and plum work very well with picnics and camping ventures. I like it because there’s no potential worry, but the threat of intaking too much alcohol. I like a good white wine too, it may not be vegan so-to-speak, but it has it’s place. The 2011 Hofer Gruner Vetliner, is in a one-liter bottle, comes with a beer cap and is always seasonal and always organic. It’s actually quite fresh, in this case, it’s dewy, and has enough fruit push and precision to make it a formidable summer white. Not too bad for Austria, considering they’ve dealt with their share of blatant no-no’s in the industry. 
What is organic wine exactly? I know that sounds like a online business FAQ, but it’s all the same here my friend. It basically means there’s no chemical fertilizers, herbicides, pesticides, modifiers, vine posts, additives, and extraneous contaminants. I like a good organic wine, and it begrudges me to think that I can always get one, but the trouble is, there’s no guarantee on the label. For the most part, it requires a lot of money, red tape, and from year-to-year it only gets more expensive for the winemaker. The truth is, you need to do some research on your producer, and see if it actually is, or not. Some would also disagree on the validity of unadulterated  wine in terms of nuance purity and balance, but again, that’s completely up to the individual and routinely subjective. 
I personally have noticed some working differences, but nothing too far flung from really great, artisan producers. Please, by all means, do not think that all biologically pure wines are more expensive, which realistically, is the worst misconception in this business. Fine, your bell peppers are probably six dollars a pound, but not your wine. Even the aforementioned ones are no more than thirteen dollars apiece. I would always recommend going with an organic producer, but I couldn’t in good conscious endorse one that has no actual indication of craftsmanship. There are some bad ones, and some good ones; but those who think they’re just going green to earn more green, usually do not impress me whatsoever. 
Unless perhaps, they compliment the cooking of organic food. 
Brian Maniotis
Wine Warehouse Team
Visit us @: westchesterwine.com 

Friday, April 6, 2012

Still A Selling Point.

The "Other"

It might as well be subliminal. In fact, it sometimes is. However, there is every visual shred of evidence to support the idea that sensuality is more than likely the best way to capture attention. I’m not really trying to rely on the extrication of something “sensual,” but all of this is more about the previously unquoted “sexiness” of sex. Not the actual practice of course, oh how forsaken a thing! Come on, isn’t that’s for another site to accomplish? Besides you don’t want to come looking for any of it on this avenue. Still, there’s no problem with bearing a little, suggesting a lot, and redefining the whole practice of putting a smile on someone’s face; well, and to create some loftier expectations. I know, beyond doubt, that the most pervasive chemical bond we share with each other is, with allowance, communicable through the possible hinting towards future lovemaking. If wine curries that sort of favor, then that’s pretty admirable isn’t it? Wow, good job buddy, right? Oh yes, good job wine bottle! Granted, we have the expectant theory that a good vintage is someway, somehow, alluding to all things saucy, but what is it exactly, that makes the ritual of buying nothing but provocative labeling so interesting? 
Maybe because it states this word clearly on the front of the bottle: “Sex!” (I’ll return to that soon, don’t worry.) It might as well, or even if it’s something akin to that, we get the idea. So forth, we have every inclination to believe that alcohol, especially fun kinds, can parlay some eventual giggling and that provincial naughtiness we’re all familiar with. Does it mean we’re slaves to it? Yeah, i guess we are, but I’m not reading into people’s personal lives tonight. However, what I’m willing to do, is explore the reasons why attentions float away from spectacular bottles, to those others that are just as good, but continuously circulate notions of denuded femmes, or those well-known perversions of the epigrammatic. I agree, there’s no substitute for the swank and pop of a racy label, but really, is there any benefit in knowing, if tradition prevails, that you purchased something which caused a common man to snicker, and a more reserved woman to roll her eyes? It really depends on your relationship, but again, I’m not painting those larger grey areas. 
M. Lawrence "Sex"
What you can expect as of late, is the idea that winemakers who actually feel the need to print the agreeable eroticisms on their front label, are looking to sell their wares, but remind you of the confidence they’ve had in producing a sultry product without second thoughts. Isn’t that a similar charge that people would expect from one another in more private climbs? Possibly, but aside from any other case, the vigneron takes considerable risk in masking his or her creation with a front cover that doesn’t speak volumes about it’s liquid interior. That would be sad, and it could prove to be a remorseful burden on the part of the buyer and those who were expecting that eye-opening, initial spark. Maybe that’s why there’s “The Other,” a blended red from Peirano Estate that pictures a mysteriously nacreous woman that has bit more to show than the simple sketch will allow. It’s Merlot, Cab and Syrah, but oh so distractedly simple. Then there’s the true coup: “Sex” as it is even more basic in its stamped image, the sparkling wine has been open to comic inserts and obligatory buying ventures. They’re both fantastic, the first from California, the other from Michigan, but no matter where you’re from, the concept is pretty universal. Both have a long, concupiscent finish, great interpretation of fruit, and are easily accessible, despite how controversial. 
I like it just as much as anyone else would, and there’s some point where one must see the value in choosing wine based on its cover. In this sense, it can be profitable because most winemakers would not stake inferior grapes on something profound as a Sexy label. I would bet that someone’s expectations are heightened in the physical realm, but we’re talking about actual olfactory sensations aren’t we? Think to yourself what matters in the glass and don’t ask me which bottle is the sexiest, because I probably wouldn’t know. As it is, I can only imagine the scrutiny I could face if I passed something off as a love potion, or elixir. I usually let the eager find the more risque stuff, because I don’t want to be a part of anyone’s personal intentions. I leave the erotic stuff to blushing couples and poorly informed bachelors. 
All I can say, is that open glasses should equal closed doors. 
Brian Maniotis
Wine Warehouse Team