Not Cheese.

Velenosi Pecorino

Scores of people know that homophonic words are sometimes tricky. We tend to wonder why someone, at any point, would decide to create one term while another, with the same exact pronunciation, exists in the same spoken language. Consider also, those examples of vocabulary that have the same exact spelling and elements of dictation, but have completely different meanings. I’ve wondered about the many coincidences in the world of phonics, but there are some pretty interesting parallels. Especially, I begin to wonder about the “Llama.” A supposed indigenous term for that wooly camel-esque creature that trots down Peruvian hillsides. Is it mere chance that the Spanish word for “Name” is also ‘Llama?’ I personally, do not know for sure, but the idea is just as prevalent when looking at such curiosities as “Duck!” or “Bat.” I know, this is probably much too adolescent and unarguably insipid in value to start meddling with, but sometimes it’s better to question simple ideas than to disassemble the difficult ones. 

It’s why snorts and laughter ensue when I recommend one white wine in particular that has experienced a less than a prestigious following; well, as one would expect, you might understand how certain wines bear the burden of namesakes. You may already know it, but on a dissimilar note, it’s one that claims the same title as a very well-known block of fermented milk which is found in almost every supermarket or local Trattoria. There are some variations, but the two most popular are from Rome and Tuscany. “Pecorino....” I say it with an almost nonchalant attitude, but it has all the comedic intent that most people tend to handle with this statement: “Um...cheese Wine? Seriously...what is it?” Sorry for the letdown, but the fact remains, it doesn’t have anything to do with curds, whey, or casein proteins. 

It has a role as one of the wines found in Italy’s Marche region, but has had little success with would-be drinkers of every other white varietal that exists just about everywhere else. It’s a little on the rustic side, with those imitable sweet tarragon notes, dominated by peaches and the baskets in which they were carried, See: “woodsy.” Think of it as a white without semblances of apples, butter and that breadth of toast and spice. Quite frankly, It’s like a stone fruit packed with herbs and honeycomb. Though not set to explode, it should...I mean, there’s no harm right? Of course I mean this figuratively, but there’s no pain in imagining it. 

Velenosi Offida is one of the more exciting producers as I digress to mention that I was once cleared-out of an entire stockhold of their product. That’s good publicity for them, and bad news for me as I contemplate whether or not I’ll see it again in my lifetime. Not that it’s of lower allocation, but there’s a considerable appeal to this type of thing when you have customers who know when they have a specialty on their hands, and they buy it by the palette. I would sooner recreate the appeal and buy a case myself, but, hey...when able, I get it for free. Don’t judge me on it, but I find myself with some delicious burdens and Pecorino has been one of them. 

I honestly say, if you happen to like cheese enough to pair it with something of similar pedigree, then you might have a point. Both the grapes and the curds themselves come from completely different regions, but somehow, their end products act as complimentary foodstuffs which are still highly interpretive.  I would welcome any person to say they do receive a hint of formaggi here and there, but with Pecorino, I really don’t. Anyone can divulge on the quality of the wine and spread some info on it, but I would not go as far to chuckle about it’s nomenclature. 

Heh...I’m still waiting for Taleggio, or Grana Padano to become a grape one day.      

Brian Maniotis

Wine Warehouse

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

Heritage Touraine.

Pascal Pibaleau 

For the good in wine, there’s a particular region that I’ve come to enjoy over the years, given the idea that I can usually be tempted to buy anything, anytime the situation, or the wine itself, is duly presented. I begin to wonder if other people think of me as being somewhat simple in my quest for product, as I tend not to overdo the exploration of said territories, or respected wine niches. I’m just as open-minded as the next person, being able to practice the same old wants and mediocre luxuries that come with variety, but what’s the point in that? There is a point, a good one, and it merits explanation, but not tonight. As always, I share the most rudely-dug, immoral indifference I have towards anything else, and I base topics solely on my own indulgence. Is it a crime? No. If I cannot re-examine my own enjoyment, then how can others begin to do the same for themselves? Ok, before my rant becomes perfused, I must resume being more topical for the respect of readability. 

All this is about Touraine, a fairly sizable appellation in the heart of the Loire Valley, which partakes in my all-time familiar love of Cabernet Franc. I have to admit that this is not entirely about the varietal, as it represents about one-fourth of the volume found in the particular item I’m mentioning. The other upcoming blended grapes, should of course, be profiled too. Ever hear of Pascal Pibaleau? Regardless of the man himself, he’s produced this 2010 blend consisting of “Cot,” which is the idiosyncratic French Malbec, and the rest falls to Gamay; implying a sort of brash confidence in blending, that many have not usually been witnessed to. I mean, all grapes are found in the area and yet, I find the combo somewhat unique though. If there’s anything I like in this world, it’s something remotely “odd-ball.” This one pretty much bags-it-up and takes it all home. 

Normally, I wouldn’t stress the importance of seeing mushrooms, string beans, motor oil and walnuts as working nuances, but it all works here somehow. I admit, this is not wine for the meek, as it harbors a scary adoration for these elements. Now, now, I seem to be leaving out the more fruited aspects, but there’s nothing like  a little cassis, or black currant nuance coming through. Not that anything needs to be edified here, it just helps along those racier, more savory overtones. I quail to think if there’s anything more strange, or potent than this little mix, but I think most of us are in for a surprise, pending that there’s an adventurous spirit within your soul. For about sixteen bucks, it was worth the provincial allure.

Touraine is a big province, or, for that matter, an appellation, consisting of big to-do’s over the production of wine. Most of the famous Loire Chateaux are here, and they produce a diversity of wines that is awesome. Not the sort of “Awesome” a surfer might exclaim, but certainly worth the expression of “Awe” anyone of us is capable of. The Gamay grape I mentioned is usually the most uninteresting one, but it helps bring color and dimension to various blended wines. Also, there’s the threat of condensation in the products here, being that the blending of everything from Cabernet, Pinot Noir, Cab Franc, Malbec and otherwise, continues to exist in a veritable blending pot. Does it mean there is less tradition here? I don’t think so. 

One thing I’ve said about Loire Valley wines, is that they have probably been the most unchanged since their heyday. This is without regard to Touraine itself, and Pibaleau’s “L’Heritage D’Aziaum,” but in the Valley, there’s been little adulteration to oak casks, grapes are harvested just the same as anyone would have begun to exhibit nearly hundreds of years ago, and the purity and practicality of the exports are nearly unmatched. The thing to remember, is that not ignore something just because it tastes like walnut paste and macerated blackberries. I admit, I keep going back to the funky stuff that hails from anywhere, but I’d rather go with a region that knows how to get down with it’s bad (a.k.a, “Good”) self...so to speak. 

Funky-See, Funky-Do. Or something like that. 

Brian Maniotis

Wine Warehouse

visit us @: westchesterwine.com

Un-Peated, Unleashed.

Bruichladdich Laddie "10yr"

Ok, I understand, my posts may appear limited by subject, that’s fine. I am all about the spur of things and I can’t get rid of the notion that mother fate has this overwhelming, sometimes acrimonious laugh, permitting me to think she has it out for me. I mean that in the most cordial way, but you have to understand; I’ve taken charge of situations before, but nothing feels more uncertain than the idea of immovable destiny, especially when I feel committed to write impulsive posts on a short range of products both new and old. That’s the truth, regardless of how diverse, complex, or justifiably perverse each entry might appear. That’s why I bring to you again, the perpetual nonchalance of something that has been true to my heart since I first took the first glance about a couple months ago. 

Well, you might have guessed from the title that this is about scotch again, but why not extricate this subject at least one more time? However, I think it’s pretty relevant since I had brought up the all-time immeasurability of the unavoidable. That’s pretty much the case in the world of “Bruichladdich,” a whiskey distillery that has witnessed its own lugubrious aspects of chance. Locked-up and closed for business a handful of times over the past forty years, the new owners have to wonder if the place is haunted, as many denizens of the Islay stronghold have tried effortlessly to make good on the attempt to create exceptional single malts. A bit scary, and somewhat daunting, the chance at creating something new from the ashes of failure has led the team to continue production here. 

What is more, the distillery has proved themselves in whiskey terms, since most of the insight in this business falls on what has already begun. A portfolio consisting of intimidating projects and erstwhile, the classic expressions of the Islay style, the more aged whiskies are great and always available. With those ranging through the 40-year mark, the important piece of the puzzlement is why their un-peated scotches are the bee’s knees. Some would ask what the devil has done with men who decide not to burn compacted grasses and heather to dry the barley. 

The result is a springy, sprightly scotch for those who love it, but do not wish to endure mouthfuls of peat, which can turn-off enthusiasts and beginners alike. Remember though, there are just as many who prefer whiskies that are not heavily peated, and have that youth driven character which makes them more approachable. I for one, was led into obsession by the possibility of an unpeated product, because I love whiskey, but I don’t always have the advantage of enjoying it whenever I want. The problem is, I tend to like one after dinner, or actually, with a simple burger, but the ideal scotch is one I can have anytime, without the possibility of stomach aches when I combine it with something. I should know better, but the concept supersedes my logic and I keep rationalizing why I should be ordering one, at least sometime before dessert. 

The periwinkle, pastel-blue can is something iconic as of late, standing out among others that have a more masculine box, or cylinder, but why not imply the feminine this time? Scotch seems irrevocably chauvinistic a times, and myself, being a guy, tend to admit that some males engage a lot of chest-beating over their favorite whiskey. I’ve seen men  who strictly drink Bourbon just to look tough in front of women, but as it appears, the marginal success within this sort of performance is very limited. But we’re not talking about Bourbon are we? We’re talking about a ten-year old product that has notes of heather, orange, melon, ginger, honey, and vanilla. Practically enough, this could be one of Scotland’s only digestifs; a different, if not an absolutely ambiguous type. 

The one thing to exact, is the taste. Even with some of the peaty characters, the spice, weight and the aging process are relegated to considerable opinion. To call me a lover of spirits is ok, but the love of scotch has to be met with reason. In a business where the eldest whiskies are the most sought-after, the problems tend to accumulate with pricing. Good fortune sometimes comes for those who, despite chance, or cash flow, will enjoy something worthwhile. I can’t think of a time where scotch was more popular than now, but I can see that Bruichladdich, despite a questionable amount of diversity, is somewhat responsible for this much-needed renaissance. 

Time to break the padlock on another haunted distillery. 

Brian Maniotis

Wine Warehouse

visit us @: westchesterwine.com