Thursday, July 26, 2012

The Idyllic Gamay.


R. Descombes Régnié
If you have ever seen one, would you know what it is? Looking upon a single red grape berry, could you make several distinctions about its character?  With a little overtime, you could engage in enough circumspection so as to have the varietal itself, respond to your queries in an English accent. What I mean, is that you can try your damnedest  to unlock the mystery of anything, but even if the object is seemingly inanimate, you could find yourself tirelessly building up enough insanity to act as if you are engaging in dialogue with a piece of fruit. Perhaps, that is not too far off from the role of most oenologists, as I do worry about the great providence they must take when making conclusions. Granted, I am not always forgiving when the science of wine is bridged by speculation and chemistry, but I do enjoy the presence of esoteric datums and diagrams that turn up. Maybe it’s more important than I know, and much more necessary than I am currently divulging; however, I find the particularly unpopular varietlals all the more stigmatizing and chemically ambiguous.
Provided I had the time, you would find me lab-testing the dubious nature of Gamay. Something of a persona-non-grata, the juice that pours from this bulbous fruit might as well be drizzling away through the schist and granite soils where it has become habituated. More specifically, the whole of the Beaujolais region has been the hallmark area for it, but even with the extravaganza of Nouveau season during late November, the interest appears to fall short of favorable. Most people, even those who have escaped novice status in wine drinking, will pass it up for something else. Speaking again of stigmatics, it’s usually pushed into a corner until Thanksgiving arrives, or it’s drinking is readdressed when summertime becomes nothing but maelstroms of heat and sweat. 

Sweat. Funny term, considering that most people tend to regard it as worse, or, if the original term persists, the previously referenced word needs no mitigation. I have no reason to think of it that way, because myself and many others enjoy the grape for its juicy integrity, deep phenolic spectrum and the way it stresses practicality. Provided, there are some relatively expensive ones, but rightfully, it goes on to be a force of accessibility. Beaujolais sits at the southern border of Burgundy, and I would like to think of them both as mutually beneficial, they are in some cases, but it hasn’t come to total fruition for my particular tastes. Think of Brouilly, Regnie, Morgon, Fleurie, Julienas, Moulin-a-Vent and so on, in terms of appellation, but all are good and all are priced fairly where applicable. You are paying more for a Premiere Cru, or 1st Label, but still, the revelations are delicious. 
Domaine Vougeon - Brouilly
Domaine Vougeon 
Think of juices, crushed tart berries, flowers, and under-ripe black plums. That’s the general tableau of nuances for most, but some are exceptionally meaty and savory in the Fleurie and Régnié A.O.C’s, appearing a little more rustic and old-worldly, but the fact remains, they need to be lauded for more than they are currently worth, especially in the presence of buyers. I enjoyed Domaine Vougeon’s “Brouilly” as of late, and as it was not highly extracted, this sort of discovery and wonderment existed in the refreshment, as I would not trade that in, even for something lush and effluent. I saw hints of rose, violet, blueberry essence, red plum, and a slight touch of crushed blackberries. Thirst was not an issue, as it played contritely as a lighter-bodied wine with a touch of culinary adaptability. Something with a little more gratuity, the “R. Descombes,” a Régnié, gave off hints of verjus, sea salt, redcurrant and fig. If you desire muscular wine, it might be the one you’ve been pining for.   
For those who know the nature of the Grape, it’s thin-skinned, has a high glycerin content, but implies a fresh, but bright nature that seems principally youthful. Some tend to confuse it for Pinot Noir, but there’s no contention. Pinot can actually show more guile, but Gamay is provokingly basic. The idea is not to rely too much on “Beaujolais Nouveau;” which by default, makes its annual appearance. The product has made the 'Beauj' region a bastion of successful winemaking in the Americas, but due to it’s export history, interest is only dominated during every third week of November, when the product is released to consumers. With carbonic maceration, and a short ageing period, the purpose is to create a soft, approachable wine for the cornucopian food holidays. 
The object of Gamay does not seem to rest in finality. The Loire Valley, and other outside countries have been playing unceremoniously with the varietal, but there are plans just as with any other grape, to look into furthering its potential. Some feel remorseful, some feel enchanted, but the only problem with the wine, or the finished product, it seems, are the simple misunderstandings. One can put labels on a wine, and few actually do state the name of the fruit responsible, but that may as well be tradition instead of misconduct. The opinions will vary, given the attitude of those interested, but the fact remains, is that this particular berry needs its followers, its lowly entourage needs to be something much more than a few pins pressed on the French map.
Or...would you prefer brass tacks instead?
Brian Maniotis
Wine Warehouse
Visit Us @: westchesterwine.com

Friday, July 20, 2012

A Tolerance For Pinot.


Three Rocks Pinot Noir
The problem is, that most people would sell their soul for a good one. I completely understand, and don’t get me wrong, I can see why. Though whatever entity you might have bartered with, it still might not be the best decision you’ve made. I can divulge information on several persons who might be very well interested in exchanging goods and services for your spiritual immortality, but you have your dignity don’t you? It’s fine, really. There are plenty of good people who have felt downtrodden by bad Noir, and I am one of them, but then again, there’s a constance of “difficult” wines pushed on me and I don’t always like it either. The point is, you might have seen the “devil’s grape” and came out unscathed, but it’s likely you’re still shaken up by the sight of hellfire and pitchforks.
I say “Tolerable” because so many people have the burden of knowing that Pinot Noir is fickle, sometimes unreasonable, and altogether, a large investment teetering towards crapshoot status. If you’ve ever owned a vineyard, then this is nearly unquestionable, and there’s reasonable proof that you’re not always getting what you pay for whether you’re making it, or drinking it. I have to point out that the cost is sometimes unbearable, and there’s a terrible feeling of wrongdoing when you look at a bottle amorously and it doesn’t quite reveal the same expression. There are usually two good reasons why this happens and it’s not always our fault, but the problem lies in that all-too familiar problem with money. 
P. Andre CNV
I have said too many times, that people who set limitations, or price brackets on what they spend, tend to do the same for Pinot Noir, and it can wind up being a crisis, and not the festivity it should be. Over and over, I have said, with testament, that it pays to throw a couple of extra clams into the pot in order to see what the grape has to offer us, but non-believers always seem to partake in the severe realization that it was good advice they should have mindfully utilized. I’m not saying others are wrong, but when you look at the consequences of having a grape that’s been equally manipulated as much as it’s been touted, the theory is, that you might want to do your research on it. 
Pinot doesn’t like climatic disparity, and it strives for equilibrium in a world where the concept of “good cheese” is represented by doling-out wafer thin platforms of underaged curd, pressing it into familiar shapes and packaging the results into quadric folds of flimsy, translucent plastic. California has a bad reputation for mass producing, but then again, they are still part of the solution when it comes to better Noir. Most of the time, the major complaints from enthusiasts are, the overt manipulation and the lack of complexity due to a lack of induction from rich, loamy soils and mature grapevines. For buyers, the wine just isn’t as good, or interesting enough. 
The answer is, to find one that has the quintessential nuance and balance that one would look for. Generally, your Pinot is meant to be medium-bodied, finessed and at most, a little smoky, or earthy depending on the ritual of winemaking. Burgundy has some higher-priced entries, and they can spin concentric circles of good wine around California, because they have the terroir for it. That’s why I liked Pierre Andre’s Cote De Nuits Villages, which at $22 bucks, had a bevy of raspberry elements interwoven through a platform of black fig, juicy cherry and wild sweet herbal elements. Oh, and hints of mineral no less...Delicious! However, Three Rocks, has shown some clout in recent years with their 2009 Arroyo Grande which sources their fruit from the acclaimed Talley Vineyards sites. For just under twenty dollars, It’s a little more fruit-driven, but the outcome is one of melty black cherry and sandalwood notes, compiled within a haughty frame of dark, black berries and Darjeeling tea elements.            
As the problem persists, I remind everyone that the positive points of this grape, are far greater than the cherubic little name that the French gave it long ago. You would think something that literally translates to: “Black Pine” would sound cute and harmonious, but it isn’t. It takes a lot of work to cultivate and the results are sometimes not worth the physical and mental strain of eager winemakers. I would sooner acquire something that is more generous, more extracted for the money, but I have to admit there’s a certain versatility to a good Pinot Noir, that can pair with everything from pasta, fish, pork and lean cuts of red meat. Granted, not every bottle is expensive, but the aesthetic is, that you should really consider taking out a couple dollars from of the swear jar that you made, to pay for a better Pinot. Or else, you could be reeling through a vicious cycle where you curse bad wine and wind up losing even more money. 
We all love that. 
Brian Maniotis
Wine Warehouse
visit us @: westchesterwine.com

Saturday, July 14, 2012

No Lux for Luxembourg


Clos Des Rochers Auxerrois
You’ve heard of the major wine regions in France. You might have seen those little splashes of color spilled onto the map, making the country appear as if it were once a blank canvas. Sure, there’s more than a couple waterways adding to the palette, but nothing so artistically perverse as you would see from a post-modern artistic genius. Call it art, call it geography, but the idea is to indicate exactly where these places are, so as not to confuse the information-seekers. But even for those who know a little about regional wines and their exact locations, a few of us may be a little stymied about some of the more unpopular areas. They’re not difficult to find, and not always easy to place, but there’s great juice flowing out of that one niche you have probably never seen. 
However, this post has nothing to do with France. You might have been unexpectedly hoping for another topic, so here’s your chance to embark on something a little onerous this time around. It has to do with Luxembourg, which is one of the most aptly forgotten viticultural landscapes that the wine world has left to personal interpretation. Yet, most people do not even know anything about it, regardless of wine, or it’s geographical employ. Well, for a crackerjack lesson, the country borders Belgium, France and Germany, stood in neutrality through the World Wars, and currently accepts the Euro as legal tender. Easy enough right? But the real cinch is that they’ve been making wine for the longest time, and the results may surprise you. 
For all immediacy, Auxerrois (*Aww-Zur-Rah*) is not a household name and due to a lack of permeation in the Americas, the grape has not seen too much publicity. Most would cringe at having to pronounce the varietal’s namesake, and do not bother in doing so, but you have the relief of knowing that Pinot Blanc is a little easier on the lips. Yes, the two major players are here, and they’ve been making a stir of changes since their arrival. However, the remnant fact appears to be that people would like either-or if they simply understood their circumstance. 
The Pinot Blanc
The mapping of the Lux wineshed, appears to have taken on the coalescence of Germanic and French-style practices and philosophy over the years and the final products tend to represent just that. The Auxerrois is by all estimation, similar to that of a dry Riesling, with a range of savory elements and a brisk, almost mineral-driven expectancy with macerated apricots to follow...See: “Clos De Rochers.” You might guess that Pinot Blanc is somewhat of a force elsewhere, and you’re right, but the idea with this one, is to implore buyers to see that it’s just as soft, just as bright comparatively, to Alsace’s claim for creating some of the best whites from this grape. Think of it as “P.B.” without the “J” and you’ve got something there. It’s nutty, smooth, sometimes creamy, and if you like, could represent itself amicably with the common apple. Confused? Don’t be, because it’s all about the “oohs!” and veritable “Ah’s!” that one could exclaim if they knew how quenching these table wines can be. For example, See again: “Clos De Rochers.”
Luxembourg has been pressured to make their exports a little more available as of late, but new products are making headway. Not only does the country suspend two seemingly unpopular varietals, but they owe to us, in tandem, wine made from the more popularized Riesling, Gewurztraminer and Pinot Gris varietals. My guess, is that if locals want to make good on an attempt to provide thirsty Americans with a valuable experience, then they can deliver wines with more affordability than some higher-priced staples from Germany, or France. 
What I see, is a country without a trade chip, basically, a caricature of a good gambler in need of confidence. I do not know if Luxembourg will beat out a phantom competitor like Switzerland in the slow outpouring of success, but at this point, they should. I’m not brow-beating them in accusation, but we’ve already made it clear that we need more good juice. Granted, more people should be endeared by such a delicacy, but we’re not. Most of us tend to revel in the old maelstrom of Chardonnays and white Pinot, so it’s our fault too. I have to act like a classic parent in the matter, and say to all of our fellow wine drinking brethren: “Well, too bad you’re not interested, because, you know...your missing-out buddy!” Ugh! what’s the point though, right? I know you’ve heard the underdog story ad-nauseam, so I’m not pushing this critique of good wine any further.
 That is, if you want me to be some kind of hero. 
Brian Maniotis
Wine Warehouse
Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

Friday, July 6, 2012

Chardonnay's Non-Commital.


Peirano Chardonnay
I’m like you...not in the the most personal sense, but in a more relative frame of mind. There’s no need to feel confused by that statement, because in the end, isn’t the basic human world dependent on matching interests and direct communion with others? Perhaps, it’s the idea of comparison which helps us to understand exactly why we enjoy things en mass. At times, the appeal of something standardized is what leads us to share in that imminent bonding that’s similarly found at your annual Sci-Fi convention, or a local comic-con. Whether or not that makes sense, is up to you, but all I’m trying to say, is that I’ve found a fairly new piece of equipment capable of dismantling some of the uncertainties seen in that all-too-opinionated concept of personal enjoyment. 
Listen, you foredefeated members of the “A.B.C.” crowd! You don’t have to like Chard to be a part of a club, and I don’t suspect you’re going to dislike this post because I’m talking about something which you probably have no interest in whatsoever; in time, you will...yes, in time. Just in case you are still uncertain about my plight, that whole abecedarian acronym I mentioned in the first sentence, focuses on the “Anything But Chardonnay” mindset. I can understand why a lot of these people dislike the stuff, but then again, if you find the right one, then who is to say that you really belong to such a clandestine group such as they? I have had many a doubtful and remorseful bash with this particular type of grape, but not as much as some would think. I would normally advocate going with a youthful, but loamy "Aligoté" but, guess what? It's the same grape according to Burgundians.    
I generally do not like it, but If someone is willing for one minute to suggest something contrarian to an overtly-oaked, overtly-buttered profile that happens to be a staple within many winemaking cultures, I’m all for it. California has been privy to a bad succession of repeals with Chardonnay, but there’s always hope nonetheless, since even they have blockbusting results as of late. There seems to be a pipsqueak revolution in the State, where less fruity, more balanced wines are being created. I’m sick of too much malolactic fermentation, and I think it’s a preternatural cop-out for certain vignerons who have less time to work and more time to play. 
Roulot Aligoté 
If the Chard is all butter, all spice, all apples and pears, then too much manipulation has occurred. Mutually exclusive, if there’s nothing but white tea, lemons, steel and dried cheese, then there’s been little effort to complete the winemaking equation. With “Malolatic,” you might as well have gone to the movies, because If you want popcorn with all the trimmings, then don’t waste your time buying a bottle for the cost of a ticket and some puffed kernels. I have a mission though, considering that you probably don’t have the gumption to do it by now, try Peirano Estate’s claim to a bright, but tantalizing version of that one white we may all come to love one day. It’s got cinnamon, golden apple, a little oak and enough pear to keep you from feeling like you had a nightmare in the city of Anjou. I enjoyed it without contempt for once, and it feels pretty good. it’s not brazen, and not limp, but you would be happy to know, it implies the particular balance only found, on average, within a 4,000-to-5,000 case production. Yikes! With a figure like that, it’s hard to estimate exactly why it costs so little. It’s also one of the prudent types, having enough vigor for summer and just the right amount of clout for wintertime pork roasts and stews consisting of white meat and legumes.  
I like a lot of white wine, but the problem is in most cases, is that I get a lot of Chard thrown at me, and it hurts. At this point, it’s worse than being hit by a Cab, and worse than me using puns to extract a point. At least I can be content about something that drinks well with a grilled bratwurst or any protein slathered in garlic sauce. I don’t mind having the most notorious white wine at my table, but I get a little nervous when It creeps up on me like an obsessed ex-girlfriend, or a para-militant. The grape can be managed, and it belies elegance every so often, but it seems to have been in a rut with those who want pure power instead of fine tailoring. I really can’t say if most people would gravitate to Chardonnay’s new theme in California, or basically, France’s eldest one, but the truth is in taste and sometimes, the harvest year. 
I guess, now would be a good time to plug Peirano’s 2011 vintage.           
        
Brian Maniotis
Wine Warehouse
Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Rye Not?


Masterson's Rye Whiskey
When I was a kid, I used to wonder what Don McLean meant when he proclaimed that “Good ol’ boys were drinking whiskey and rye.” Regardless of what it had to do with American Pie, or anything else, at six years old, I wondered perilously about why these supposed “good guys” were drinking booze; more to that, I found the concept of drinking bread as terminably confusing. To this day, I admit, the misunderstanding persists, and there’s probably one thing that has outshone my knowledge of fine wine and spirits. Technically, I would assume the role of someone who would know everything about the subject, but I’m willing for the duration, to remember that I haven’t been as honest about my newly found adoration for a particular whiskey. No, I’m not a avid fan of bourbon, because I find it somewhat debilitating in the long drive towards early morning, and I prefer not to wake up most mornings with the feeling of internal disgust. Also, and there’s nothing wrong with single malts, as there are some that are highly desirable, but I cannot bring myself to have a steak, or for equal parts, will not have my favorite burger with something as peaty, rich, or discernibly floral. I can for the most part, go with that undeniable, scrupulously built piece of still craft that has been well-known, but historically misappropriated. 
I shudder to believe that there’s any real reason to make a gigantic hoot about such a thing as Rye, but as traditions precede, I cannot really dismantle the concept, and say there’s any real reason to ignore the practice of making a Sazerac cocktail, or simply enjoying a straight glass of whiskey. I love when drinks are neat, and It seems that a burgeoning infatuation of mine has me on track with preparations that are seemingly no fuss. I do not temper it with water, and I sure as heck do not launch it into my freezer-refrigerator, but what I do, is sequester it beyond that little corner niche in my liquor cabinet. I feel it deserves some protection, as a good father should always offer, but I do not give it any overt affections that I would grant to say, a puppy, or a mushy housecat. 
Bulleit Rye Whiskey
The prize here, is that you get something with the nutty sweetness of bourbon, with the appropriate finesse and ardor of a well-knit malty scotch. That’s my interpretation, and I risk facing the maelstrom of mass effigies and angry torrents of enthusiasts who would exact punishments on me, shouting: “Take it back! Take it back!” I will not, because I’m entitled to perception, and I think it’s a damn-good one considering that I’ve been through hell trying to figure out what my likes and dislikes are. However, Rye has that untimely character that promotes easy drinking, while not being too brazen for meal pairing. I have found in the lesser, that many of the other Whiskies deserve no favorable mention when it comes to eating, but I haven’t had any one problem with sitting down to an entree and debunking the presence of something much smoother. 
It’s made from the grain of the same name, and is made into a mash, then distilled and barreled like most whiskies. Usually 51% is the actual Rye grain is used, while corn is equally mandated. The distilling and the aging are just a hallmark of the proprietors fancies, whims and overall expertise, but the fact is simple, it’s all worth the money. You can just as much enjoy any other product in family of mash spirits, but why? If you want proof of enjoyment, try the Canadian-born, high-end Masterson’s, or Bulleit from KY, you won’t be disappointed. Both are rich, sumptuous, well-spiced, light, and of course, gentlemanly. They are affordable, giving prompt to sweetness and spice, without the heady, backdraft of alcohol and weight that flicks my gag reflex every time I imbibe something else. 
Truth is, Rye is seeing a resurgence in popularity, and is being hailed as one of the best forgotten beverages of the American kaleidoscopic drinking effect. It is well-made, quite agreeable, and you do not have to worry about appearing thrifty just because you hadn’t the spoils to buy a thirty-year-old bottle of scotch. Prohibition is well-over, and temperance is probably another name for that nagging feeling you get when a beer, or two, or a glass of wine will not suffice. More recently, bartenders and throw-backers have developed a love for the product as a mixer, but I think it deserves more credibility than being honored as a simple base product. Bourbon is great, and some would argue that the Scottish stuff is king, but I’m taking my chances with a simple, mindful, and unpretentious approach to sipping and eating.
If not, there’s always something more complicated. 
Brian Maniotis
Wine Warehouse 
Visit us @: westchesterwine.com