The Wine Director

Mentioning Mencia

2012-02-20T10:28:00.002-05:00

Castro Ventosa

Who doesn’t like Spanish wine? Relatively speaking, I do not think there’s anyone I know who doesn’t. Whether or not you’re sick of the Ribera Del Duero, or feel a little chagrined about Rioja, there seems to be new, sometimes emergent D.O.’s that have our heads on a constant swivel. It’s difficult at times, but to some, Spain’s winemaking regions and various denominations really require no educational coursework to properly understand, or potentially absorb. Not to say that the winemaking, or the geography of the country is any less complex, but various search-engines can make you succinctly aware of all it has to offer. Nonetheless, there’s always that one grape which follows in the spectacle of newly officiated winemaking laws and constructs. A question though, does it make the experience of actually obtaining the wine a bit more fun and a little more challenging?

No, not necessarily. For a decade, the Bierzo region seemed incognito and practically abandoned for a proper rediscovery. Once, a former mining outpost for Roman legions, the same mineral soils that had once suited ancient purposes, are now monumental vine plots, serving those who wish to excel in a contemporary craft. The “Mencia” grape has proven to be a good suitor in an attempt to reclaim the beauty and fertility of a place that also has a profuse collection of handsome castles. Yes...castles.

Bierzo

But why follow this staple varietal? More often, it’s a great alternative to other wines that are too robust for words; specifically, ones that are usually too full, too earthy, leaving people to feel like they’ve overdone something. What I mean, is that you can sit down to a hearty stew composed of various proteins, onions, stock and tomatoes, and still have enough room to sip-down a wine that won’t overcompensate via tableside. They’re usually labeled: “Joven” meaning, “young” and they have no problem grasping the adjective. Generally, the idea of black, brambly fruits and petite red berries are emphasized, but not the last thing you’ll see on the palate. There’s a good chance that this underdog grape has kinship in Cabernet Franc, but science does not raise the question of a direct equivalent.

With the vintage not being an issue, Castro Ventosa seems to know exactly how adaptable Mencia is. With plashes of black-raspberry, redcurrant and crisped mint, the palate is not without a genuine opportunity. For good reason, the scintillating spiciness furthers this idea and keeps the wine at a very interesting pace on the finish. Not particularly bad for something that is considered such a juvenile, but not to worry, there’s nothing erratic, irresponsible and ignorant about this kid in particular. Others are sometimes emphatic about red fruits and a more substantial body, but this Mencia is kept in check, and would probably be a nicer alternative to rosé during the springtime, when lighter roasts, mild cheeses and seasonal fruits.

When in doubt, I usually reach for Spanish wine, which may sound a bit myopic, but there’s a tremendous value most of the time, and it shows. Depending where you shop, the the reach of the country’s best upcoming varietals are usually found in its select regions. Bierzo just happens to be one of the most exciting in my opinion, but really, don’t discount the others...please. The one thing that‘s imperative, is to actually try it, despite popular breakthroughs within the common wines of Priorat and Jumilla. I like those too, but I would at least like to think of the better intentions for I have for myself and more importantly, my readers.

Ribera Del Guadiana anyone? Maybe next time.

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

Valentine's Sanguinity.

2012-02-09T11:21:00.001-05:00

Sangue Di Guida

Nearly on its way, the most amorous of holidays sneaks by without cognizance. Hearts are broken, melted-down, or left with an almost tepid, but basic feeling of cupidity that usually has to do with a bad assortment of trinkets. We seem to focus on new relationships based on the precedents of red wine, or dealings in the post-nuptial crises of buying pre-fab chocolates and red flowers. It still seems, oddly so, that we are still much more unwise about the effectiveness of common Valentine's Day crapshoots. So why all the pink hearts en-mass? The sucrose dynamic of banal, unwarranted confections that fill closet spaces like boxes of old candy canes? There’s usually no substitute for being creative on the most famous 14th of all months, so that should be your guiding force right?

Probably...but there’s more to being a Valentine than receiving an “I Love You” sprawled on a gigantic digital screen in Times Square, or paying some rock star an exorbitant amount of money to sing an ignominious dirge about his, your, or someone else’s unyielding affection that was, more or less, meant for someone else. Fine, you can dissent to me all you want, because I’m going with the old bottle of wine trick this year. Now, it doesn’t have to be the red kind exactly, but it’s probably the best idea for those in a complete state of oblivion. Call me a martyr for the sparkling stuff as of late, but it seems to have been too irreplaceable of a thing to ignore considering the past two months have yielded some interest. Whatever, there’s more reason now to say that as a producer, "Casteggio" has a place today on this blogsite.

I’ve tottered on Lambrusco and have never really unraveled Brachetto at any one time. For some, there’s no comparison, but of course, they’re wrong. As it is, the of scowls of various Italian winemakers has not gone unregistered. Most people see both of them as entirely sweet; again, a major misconception. However, the one thing I’m dedicating this post to, is usually sweet, or just a tracing its way to sappy red fruit, and it’s neither exhibit A nor B. It’s even more affordable at thirteen bucks, and it’s basically named: “The Blood of Judas.” (a.ka. Sangue Di Guida) The grape is that interesting little spheroid that’s usually called “Uva Rara,” and to the Lombardy region, it grows among the Oltrepo Pavese D.O.C. It’s frizzante just like It’s cousins in Piedmont, or Emillia-Romagna, but usually doesn’t burn up wages like the common bubbly from these regions. Most people feel shocked when they learn there’s very little alcohol (sorry to report) and when they see there’s something other than Pink Moscato that reserves its right to outdo the fringes of predicability.

Uva Rara

I like it a lot, and it’s even better slightly chilled. At temperature, the plum and sweet blackberry flavors don’t interfere. For such a meager price, the finish is substantial enough to carry on for a couple of minutes, adding focus to some cola bean and wild strawberry. It’s probably best on it’s own, but for those who insist on promoting their hedonisms, some incredibly dark chocolate is allowed just this one time...no exceptions. Despite how you serve the delicacy, it’s probably best that someone else join you instead of a inanimate dessert tray full of lacquered truffles and liqueured bon-bons.

Regardless of what you buy for your loved-one, it’s coming from you and not necessarily from Italy, or France. Although someone else made the wine, there’s only the example of thoughtfulness that’s important. Don’t curse me for ruining those imaginative plans you have for your husband or wife this year, but if you’re going to base-jump your way into your lover’s arms, or rent-out an entire movie theater just to watch Before & After Sunset with her, at least bring the bottle and a couple of flutes.

Happy Valentine’s Day

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

Absentee.

2012-02-03T22:06:00.001-05:00

Van Gogh Absente

Van Gogh only sold two paintings in his entire life and enjoyed only a posthumous brand of fame. The kind of fame that has led people to mispronounce his last name as, “Go” rather than an usually corrected sound that goes something like, “Gogk!” Maybe that’s to say of a lot of artists, (i.e. David “Bow-wie,” or, “Bowwy.”) but there’s no discounting him as an eternal phenomenon. He left a certain legacy, and an ear somewhere, but he wasn’t always privy to the madness that everyone thinks he dealt with on a daily basis. Some blame it on a spirit that that almost had nothing to do with his eventual breakdown, but rather, only acted as a catalyst to his fate. Let’s get one thing straight, if he wasn’t an artist per se, then he might have not suffered a demise reserved for so many people in the practice of fine arts. Drugs and other indulgences seem to have taxed so many prominent individuals, and there’s been some correlation between the mystery of a celebrity’s personal life and their overconsumption, but those things are nothing compared to what lies in the arrears of wormwood.

“Absinthe,” or, “Absent” as it is called, is not the emerald dynamo we have all considered it to be. Far as art historians can tell you, there’s nothing wrong with wormwood perhaps, except for when you’re a painter that uses solvents and thinners. Vincent’s approach to madness was nothing but old ignorances about chemical reactions that occur when two different liquids are simultaneously consumed by our mouth and skin. Yes, it wasn’t the age-old myth that wormwood caused Gogh’s permanent psychosis, but rather, a cruel misunderstanding of one man, that probably saved many artists in the long term.

What I can tell you, is that Absinthe is nothing but a liquor distilled from many different types of botanicals including a handful of herbs that bear the same feminine traits you’d see in the naming of our mothers, daughters, sisters, and likewise. It gets its greenish hue from the natural, herbal elements, but has a tendency to be infused with artificial dyes. The most profound flavor to arise from the glass is usually something like fennel, or anise, considering it is the most powerful of the common melange that makes the liqueur. The actual alcohol content is something due to the neutral grains that give it a formidable proofreading, so if it doesn’t drive you bonkers, then it should obviously cause some inebriation.

Chartreuse

Also known as a “Herbsaint,” it is usually enjoyed by pouring over a sugar cube that is placed atop a slotted spoon that carries the liqueur into a small glass. The sugar causes the spirit to become cloudy and adds a sweeter element to a cocktail that is otherwise bitter at times. Some use it as an alternative to “Anisette” before, or after meals, but there’s really no wrong way of enjoying it. Truth is, there’s supposedly something wrong if you happen to see a “green fairy” buzzing around in superstitious thought, because it’s a sign of delirium, or even death. Many brush-off the idea as absurd, but there’s no mistaking the lugubrious appeal of such an event. For those who are a bit shaken by the prospect, “Pernod,” or “Chartreuse” is a wonderful alternative that can usually benefit from some simple syrup and a good amount of club soda, or sparkling lemonade. The two may sound like swashbucklers with an eye for the ladies, but unlike the reputation of Absinthe, they’re basically harmless.

I do like the idea that artists like Hemingway, Poe and many others enjoyed the stuff, but I’m wondering why it always appealed to men with so much personal acrimony. I don’t know exactly why, but it seems like the constant flirtation with their own demise was always prevalent. Not to say that it’s a by-product of a long-favored spirit, but rumor is everything when you’re trying to figure out the answers to life, death, or diagnosing insanity. All of the scribes, authors, painters and musicians in the world can abide by their own hallucinations, but when Absinthe is in the picture, it seems to make things worse. Science has proven that you have to careful in your approach, but generally, there’s always precaution in every mixer you choose.

Oh, the whole ear thing was a farce. He cut it slightly while shaving drunk.

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse team

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

Superstitious Scotch

2012-01-27T11:18:00.000-05:00

Jura Superstition

Coming across a scotch box with a gleaming silver Ankh was nothing but a surprise at first. Why above all, would I be seeing Egyptian symbolism on a stout, indigo-colored package that, in speculation, appears more baleful than endearing? Tapping into resources further exemplified by the internet, I find more than a few possibilities to unravel an edifying mystery. As most philosophers and scientists will tell you, common answers usually yield more questions and only add to our misunderstandings. Common ignorance within this universe is debatable, but when it comes to marketing, it does wonders for eager scotch consumers. I’m not exactly, but there’s something about the “Island of Jura” that has me flipping through books on mythological geography, wondering why I’ve never heard of it. Realistically, when we talk about single-malts, the place to be, is the Islay, Speyside, Lowlands, Highlands, and the Campbeltown area on the Kintyre Peninsula. There are a whole range of islands too, but not one that seems to have enough paranormality.

Well, there’s a little more to this water-locked idea of mysticisms and rites...there’s actually a scotch called, “Jura” from an island with the same name, and with equal astonishment, it’s the only distillery on the map. Simple enough, right? There’s a little more to divulge on though, considering that the commercial advertising has people spelunking through the interior of their website to discover the fabled “13 Superstitions” that could win them a trip to their Scotland locale. But I begin to wonder if there’s some truth about these adherences to the superstitious and a mission to create good whisky based on a certain duality of old world craziness and contemporary talents. That’s the ideal isn’t it? Who is to say that the tomfoolery of the past has no practical value in the workplace?

Yes friends, the stuff is incredibly good. Probably the right balance between peatiness, smoke, and if you agree...fruits. “The Superstition” as repeated once again, is actually the name of their younger whisky, with an old rune symbol stuck to the front, acting as the single anachronism found on this lesser-aged edition. There’s everything from this, to a selection of more “Boutique” distillations that will probably require the sort of layaway that has nothing to do with bottle ageing, but why go all out? You have a single malt here that’s willing to uncover some of the clues leading to notes of coffee, woodspice and raw honey. For fifty bucks, it’s not nearly as dear, compared to others priced beyond comprehension; items if anything, that are almost intangible at 16 years of age or more.

The big thing with scotch seems to be, that “the name” bides the interest in total, so most of the most well-known producers are usually the most profitable. Maybe so, but the truth is, that others’ preferences are mandated by pure speculation and that indefinite kookiness behind personal taste. Like wine, the scotch world is just as subjective and open to opinion. Which is funny, because this 200-year-old distillery seems to have been pushing away human cares in order to focus on something greater, more incredulous than squabbles over good drinking. I can say, that “Jura” has a very shaded past, one that has probably kept the distillery alive since its heyday. Musing on that, I’ve always felt there’s nothing like uncovering an old yarn every now and then and I can tell you, there’s much more fun in being able to drink on the logistics of it.

Mirrors, smoke, but not the other way around.

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us @ westchesterwine.com

Go-To Gattinara.

2012-01-20T09:52:00.001-05:00

Antoniolo Gattinara

There’s a Nebbiolo for everyone...I usually do not have to explain why, but most wine drinkers know I’m going to backup such a statement with something all too relevant. You’ve had your whims about Barolo and your delineations about Barbaresco, with the only potential recourse you face is buying something just as good. Not to say that the two Piedmontese giants are always memorable, but not all of them are. Let me act as the heretic here and do something completely out of question. I say, to hell with the idea that two of Italy’s best D.O.C.G’s are keeping at the cusp of the best, and most recognizable wines next to...I don’t know, Brunello and Chianti?Whatever your tastes, there’s a whole lot going on with a grape that has succumbed to an antithetical lack of tampering and tempering.

Ever hear of Gattinara? It’s still a Piedmont success, but It has the acclaim of being able to accept other grapes into the working order of winemaking. Denominational law states that 90% must be true Nebbiolo, (a.k.a. "Spanna") that is, in the Northwestern piece of territory, where the Bonarda di Gattinara and Vespolina grapes are certainly permitted within conventional blending. The whole idea has me wondering why no one else has had the penchant to explore this further, I mean, the concept conjures up so many eroticisms that I can hardly keep from blushing. Imagine, something like a Barolo, with a greater presence of heftiness, darker fruits, and floral undertones. Although the wine from this area can be somewhat tannic, it still benefits those who are looking for something with a little more force.

Travaglini

I love the fact it’s only been accepted as a D.O.C.G superior since 1990 and the prices aren’t exponentially rising as a result. Considering some of the bottle prices ranging at $30 or more, it doesn’t seem to build on that sense of boredom found in Barolo and Barbaresco with similar figures in mind. Antonioio makes a perfectly good one, with the brazen, black cherry liqueur making appearances here and there, while the notes of crushed lilacs and rose petal intertwine their way through a manifold of silkened tannins. As I always do, I try to recommend another bottle and without further delays, not that there were supposed to be any, I lean my attenuations toward Travaglini’s latest Gattinara. It’s somewhat similar to others, but the artistry tends to evoke plum fruit somehow. Call me a heretic again; however, that’s what I’m saying, tasting, feeling and genuinely sticking-to.

Roast me as you will, you’re better-off buying a rump and putting that one in the oven if you must. Besides, a Gattinara pairs well with a similar cut of meat other than the one you’ll find talking about wine today. Please, do not kill me for saying all the wrong things about denominations that have nothing but the righteous promises for good wine, but consider putting out that fire in your mind that torches around when spending $60-plus on those famous “Killer B’s” we all seem to love. The little “G” is not so little anymore and it’s time to recognize that. He’s attracting girls, and sometimes, boys now, so it’s going to be hard to let him go when he becomes too involved with either of them.

Sometimes, you know, they’re not always as cute when they get older.

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

It Could Be Lebanon.

2012-01-13T10:29:00.000-05:00

Chateau Musar

Though I might have extrapolated on a few interesting things coming from a place that borders Syria, I don’t think I’ve ever come to realize the potential in posting about it. Well, don’t second-guess me, because I try as often as possible to profile many regions, principalities, nations, etc., that embolden the aspects of contemporary winemaking; and no, I don’t mean the unsophisticated, fruit-forward blasphemies of the Nouveau Monde. Seriously, no other country seems to have represented an ulterior balance quite like Lebanon has; often, with those under-marketed bottles and their reputed value, that still have me wondering how it all came to pass. Though inspiration might be something bankrolled, initiated, or just plain influenced by French viticulture, I’m seeing a good number of alternatives in blended reds and whites that the Lebanese have fermenting as we speak.

It’s no surprise really, since everyone who has been held back in the wine trade for the past hundred years due to political, theological, or reasons that would have otherwise conflicted grape-growing, i.e., weather and climate, Lebanon has some great choices for those who are looking for inexpensive wine to pair with light stews and cheese that creates a bevy of crunchy little proteins. That sounds like a lark, doesn’t it ? Hmm...maybe some lamb tenderloin cooked in a dutch oven with cumin, paprika olive oil and a little bit of red wine, or, just a couple wedges of Campo Montalban. Oh hell, why don’t I just head to the market now and pick it up? It would not be too impulsive of me right? No, not when you have the juice to make it a worthwhile excursion.

Aside from easy, one-pot meals and casein-rich dairy products, there’s two producers that have my head turning away from my usual indulgences. For one, “Chateau Musar” has a red blend (a.k.a The “Jeune”) where Cinsault dominates an interesting percentage of Carignan, Cabernet Sauvigon and Syrah. Intriguing as it is, don’t think this is a youthful upstart that puts Cabernet in third place. The estate has been producing wine since the 1930’s, which is not a testament to the longevity of winemaking tradition over the past millennium, but they make an obvious sense of it. Blackberries, raspberries dusty tannins and plum sauce take precedent over my tasting notes and lead me to believe there’s more to it’s “$20 and below” price point.

Kefraya White

As I tend to do, I cannot bring myself to say that white wine has been the most popular in Lebanon, but it deserves some much-needed care and reasonable confluences of attention. I like Chateau Kefraya’s red blends as well, but their white blend still has me thinking about the long approach to summertime. “La Dame Blanche,” is their take on a blend of Ugni Blanc, Bourboulenc and Clairette. Soft, dewy and reminiscent of lime drops, this is probably one of the best white wines I have tried that are between the $10-to-$13 dollar mark. I could sit tableside with a plate of scallops sauteed in a saffron butter sauce and just routinely pig-out as I choose to when there’s wine like this around.

Would I even need to go on further? It doesn’t matter, you need to fulfill some of your own destiny and get out a bottle of each. One thing is certain...you don’t have to feel like a cheapskate for denying yourself something that’s way beyond the commercial practicality of Lebanon’s Bekka valley. Every vintner have something that sounds abjectly French, but it is certainly not so. With all the speculation at the expense of big producers and consumers in France and elsewhere, there’s no competition in the realization of obtaining great wine, that is, without throwing more “argent” at the cause. I think we’re on to something with these reasonable participants.

But oh well, you’re still going with expensive French wine aren’t you?

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse

Visit us @ westchesterwine.com

Not Salmon. Not a Fluke Either...

2012-01-06T08:49:00.001-05:00

Coho Red Blend

Some people feel intimidated by wine that’s over the thirty dollar mark. Just as well, you obviously know that other people are somewhat unflinching in their pursuit of the “expensive.” Even if you’re purchasing one bottle, or levying an entire case for your daily pleasure, you have to buy according to your own margins. Don’t get me wrong, I receive a lot of free wine on occasion and I do happen to engage in a fair amount of scheduled tastings, but there’s nothing like having full access to one, fairly artisanal product. After all, a case can get you through your per diem needs, that is, for dinner, or after hard work-a-days, but if you really want to pursue the memorable, buy within a certain parameter.

You know, I actually enjoyed something well enough that I decided to dedicate a single post to it. However, when I say “Coho” does it bring-on visions of incarnadine fish, leaping gratuitously through brackish waters, fanning their airborne bodies with lips agape? Probably not, but you can have every comfort in knowing there’s no fishy taste to this atypical Claret blend made in California. What’s more interesting, is this Cab, Merlot, Petit Verdot blend that stands as an unwavering tribute to the ecology that gargantuan producers have ignored for some time. The namesake is based on the most recognizable, yet somewhat pink, inhabitants of the sea and neighboring watersheds; which by right, naturally invokes the practice of sustainable agriculture utilized by the winemakers. Already recognized by the wine press (not in the figurative sense) and amongst those who dabble in the trade, Coho has the right idea in their mind despite those who feel they’re undecidedly forced into the “goody-goody” system of guru-style marketing where human brains appear more “green” than any of the thumbs they use to plant their own vines.

But what about taste? Yes there’s plenty of that to go around, but before you start thinking about how life-changing it’s going to be after it’s poured into your wineglass, there’s a catch...there’s only about 2400 cases produced. There’s not enough for everybody, but if you had your chance like I did, you have to realize something...It’s truly finessed. Rhone fanatics and pugnacious Bordeaux nuts are in for a surprise when they find the austerity in the bottle. It needs about fifteen minutes to aerate, but the purity of the currant fruit, mineral and wildflower notes flow onto the back-palate with symphonic proclivity. Wow, my words might mean a mouthful, but the wine sure doesn’t act with it. What’s remarkable is the long, traceable finish that does not come off in gobs, but finishes with a temperate manifold of dark fruit liqueur. For around forty-something bucks, the sprinkling of tannins on my gums made me giggle like a nymph.

They’ve been around since 2002, and I can’t wait to see what their portfolio has in store for me, but I am very willing to buy another bottle of their “Headwaters” entry any time in the next month or two. I could certainly go back to a bottle that’s rated '95 by Wine Spectator for the 2007, '88 for the 2008 but I did not even remember the well-deserved scores until now. Did it really matter? Maybe not, but there’s a whole lot of interested parties who feel that a '98 is worth somewhere around one-hundred bucks, or substantially more. They may be right, but as usual, my money is better spent on the one thing I can truly enjoy, rather than 12 bottles I might forget half of the time. With as many wines for the taking, or buying, I have always been remorseful about the wine I’ve gone fishing for, but could not catch in the end.

It all makes me wonder who among us casts the hook and grasps the bait...

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

Creme De La Cremant.

2011-12-30T10:03:00.000-05:00

Clavelin Cremant-Jura

You know what’s coming...a new year. With it, we’re ready to experience the benefits of the new and to think about something more resolute. You might have a key point to advertise to others as you lift a glass to the zenith of your arm’s length and proclaim: “My new year will act as an impetus to lose twenty pounds, raft down the Tarmac and cut down my usage of the word ‘so-and-so.’” Ok, you might be on the positive side when 2012 rolls on by, but are you going to be dead-set to the things you always wanted to do, but will more than likely never accomplish? Probably. We’ve all made mild stipulations before and it’s no surprise that most people wind up ten pounds heavier, twice as frustrated and that expansive vacation winds-up being a weekend trip to a frumpy “B-And-B.” Speaking of which, you’re probably thinking about going with that bottle of bubbles before the new annum arrives, which is probably the most misunderstood tradition that has come about in the past hundred years, but that’s what you’re doing. For whomever’s sake, other than your own, there’s a lot of good sparkling wine to accent New Year’s eve, so you don’t need to rely on Champagne again and again and again...

I do not want to say that Champagne is not an option, it’s perfectly normal to want it, savor it, but there’s so much more. I think A “Cremant” is a much better idea. Based on the name, you’re probably thinking that it’s a heady, fruit-forward, enticingly sweet white sparkler that has a place near your spumanti, or Moscato D’Asti; another great idea! Still, we’re talking about an alternative to the expensive Champenois d’elite. For about twenty bucks, or oftentimes, much less, you can rely on the “Jura, Burgundy, or that little misunderstood region of France called: “L’Alsace.”

Hubert Clavelin is a great producer of Cremant in the Jura Region that makes you wonder why the term “Still Wine” was blurted out a long time ago. It has all the positive outlets that you can expect from common nuances. Though it may not be an attractive one, bacon fat is my favorite out of the selection, but you don’t have to agree with me completely. You could also think of it as a savory, yet saline element that complements the overall fruit. The fruitier aspect compensates for the roasted herbs you’ll find, making their way towards the back-palate, as apples, pears, and honeycomb upend your expectations. It’s actually 100% Chardonnay...and probably my favorite one...ever.

Vissoux Cremant-Bourg.

Cremant is bucolic enough to make me doff a straw cap and ride a donkey all the way through Bourgogne. It’s not my imagination, its a definitive want. Why not? The Domaine Vissoux has a Cremant that juts-out from the land of White Burgundies and otherwise...usually the more expensive kind. It’s a haymaker’s paradise, yes, because of the citrusy profile intermixed with notions of cracked wheat, gooseberry and grilled bread. Sounds to me like a breakfast feast of fruit and bread...it usually is, in this case. Gold, bubbly and starkly reminding me of what it means to be living in New York, I have never encountered a repose to this particular style of countryside living. It’s like a vacation away from apts. and cranky, overcompensated metropolitans.

The really nice thing about this often-forgotten installment of bubbly, is the fact that Limoux, the Loire Valley and just about a whole host of other regions and principals have their roots in sparkling wines that, if any, do not confine themselves to the idea that it has to be bank-breaking. What’s more appealing, is that every producer is trying to get your attention, or at least skew your interest. That’s a good thing, because how many times have you encountered Champagne that is simply too much money, or had a domestic bubble burst when you found out that America hasn’t quite mastered the art of effervescence? It might be cheaper, but is it right for you?

Wait, does this mean that all of this really has to do with money after all?

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

Big Barolo Unabashed

2011-12-23T10:53:00.000-05:00

Settevie Barolo

I, above all, do not like to appear self-righteous, but I always seem relegated to answer questions about what I drink, consume, etc. Nevertheless, It shouldn’t matter...especially when it has to do with the things I imbibe; thankfully, no matter what I recommend, parlay, or debunk, it’s really your choice that beckons to interpretive quality. I’ve served as a critical liaison and the generator of hospitality when the whole of this wine culture we live in does not always make the most sense. I’m always here with a few noticeable orts of information to help people deflect the indistinctive points in wine and spirits. Call it an occupation, a hobby...maybe, but do not call it a reason to wake up every morning and take my advice as the ubiquitous-supreme; after all, I have confessions to make.

Oh yes, I participated in the wrongful act of taking NO responsibility for my guests, myself, and everyone else that will be drinking wine this year. I practiced poor judgement in a way that is purely unjustified: I BOUGHT A BAROLO !!!! Now, before you get congress on the phone, I’m not doing this for effect, but at least hear my reasons. It’s been a long year despite how many resolutions I’ve made to make self-improvements. It’s been some time since I’ve actually sat down to dinner with a great bottle of wine, which may seem odd since I’m inundated with wine, but it’s actually true. Most times, I’m subjected to the rigor of tests and taste-offs that chastise my palate. Often, I do not actually get to sit down and intellectually pick-apart the wine that I bring home...then again, why would I want to all the time? I do like to participate in the sometimes innocuous placing of nuances in the glass, but I rarely get to sit back and sip continuously without enjoyment.

But a Barolo? Of course...I need something chewier, more tannic and still edging with that same cherry-mocha disposition that makes the Nebbiolo grape so appealing. I’m still shaking my head in disbelief that I would pair the D.O.C.G superstar with the bounty of roasted chickens, sausage stuffing and similar entries commonly associated with Thanksgiving, but on a holiday that’s not Thanksgiving. It seems like an endorphin-based overload, but damn it, I can say after this entire year, it’s a well deserved ride that ends with me feeling bloated, but temporarily satisfied.

Virna Settevie...ever hear of it? Maybe not, but it’s the difference between a Barolo that’s too much money for everybody and too inexpensive to enjoy by myself. It only ran me thirty bucks, but has the trim of similar exports that are double the price. I’ve told many customers that pronouncing “Barolo” should invoke images of masculine tendency, but I have to be honest in saying that a “feminine” one does not do the trick for most enthusiasts. It has an obvious musk and belligerence that can only be augmented by notes of sweet balsamic redux, ripe cherry, roasted sage and dry raspberry. I’ve sampled this bottle here and there, but I’m certainly going back to it for these reasons alone.

I pretty much described in the recent past what makes a gigantic feast truly formidable. A less weighty red, or white, is not superficial, but always a good choice. I, on the other hand, am obsessed with a complete round-up of all my common human senses this Christmas; you know, only to expand them through food and wine, but especially the wine. I chose what I did to represent the fact that I too, believe in that inextricable need to relax with a good bottle despite what it does, how it reacts, and etcetera. I really want to accent the time I have off before New Year’s day by realizing there’s something gratuitous to be enjoyed before the next year brings a hoard of new phenolic personalities for myself and others.

My choice for New Year’s Eve? Probably Vodka...

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

You're Due For Bandol.

2011-12-15T21:37:00.000-05:00

Revolution Bandol

Most people have forgotten the intrinsic value of Provencal wine. Even though Rose dominates the one-dimensional spectrum of the region’s outputs, there’s always a cute, awe-abiding underdog scampering its way through someone’s vineyard. No, I’m not talking about the one animal everyone sees, from time-to-time, at just about every estate the world throughout. What I would like to unleash, is the innocuous curiosity to which we hold the powerful red blends of a little place located in southeastern France.

Like an old commodore printer creating a cross-hatched blip of color on its hexagonal geography, the silhouette of France’s southeastern border, is tack-marked with a demure little place called “Bandol.” Located within the foyer of Provence, the appellation is known to have existed for some 2.500 years, to which, during its earlier periods, the Romans had once held legion. Known as a quiet, somewhat tranquil setting, the maritime community and summer bivouacs for disgruntled Parisians, is something of a mediterranean showcase. Distinctly thought of as a “Town,” vacationers see opportunity in marveling at its seaports and drinking the local the local fare. Not a particularly dishonest amount of attractions, since considering the general idea of what to do within the appellate has gone generally unchanged since *600 B.C.

Pecoulas Clairette

What about libation? No joke, it’s white wines tend to exact pleasure in installments of Clairette, Ugni Blanc and Bourbonlec, but the real attitude behind any kind of viticulture here is found in rouge. Bandol reds boast their reliance on almost nothing but Mourvedre, moreso in a dark, full-bodied style, that takes-on notions of violets, leather, black fruits, minerals and earth. Sometimes, winemaking gets tricky and Grenache, or Cinsault is provided to balance-out the effect of its oneological overachievements. Regardless, the effect of making good on an attempt to provide racy, complex, but focused exports, is not something uncommon here. I think a good example of that is founded in something called, “Revolution.” Not a socio-political uprising perchance, but something based on the idea that one does not have to storm “The Bastille” in order to obtain new varietals. Actually, the revolt comes in a 750ml bottle that perpends the use of a little bit of something deemed unnecessary by law-abiding appellations. It’s Mourvedre of course, but this entry from “Tour du Bon” is an experiment and much less a crime, that involves Syrah; which based on tasting notes, could be abetting a latter-era fugitive. Almost like a noir epic, the surname reads with the hackneyed use of decoupage lettering found in ransom notes. The stemware pictured on front is a little more cute in its fostering of drawn-on arrows to depict an entire wineglass. Taste-wise, the overripe black fruits, red licorice and salted blueberry tapenade is the real artful expression here...maybe with a splice of Kalamata olive here and there.

The Clairette I mentioned should not go without response either. Considering it’s nature to combine a supple frame, with crisp, floral undertones, seems like an incongruence in the description of any wine, red or white. Still, Dom Pecoulas has birthed a phenomenon in the “Des Temps” aperitifs and conjugal food wines. Though the white may not be from Bandol per se, it’s probably one of the few chances you have to enjoy something from Provence that doesn’t offer blithe notes of grapefruit. Interspersed notes of lemon, honeysuckle and white peach flow through a clean, refreshing back-palate that’s mobile, but not ambling towards a lack of refinement.

Give me any Bandol and I’m happy...unless there‘s a sheer lack of it.

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

Cooking With It.

2011-12-09T10:16:00.000-05:00

We all know you have to wind up in the kitchen at some point. There’s no potential in completely avoiding the fact. Though you may not call yourself a Chef De Cuisine of the modern foyer, here’s your opportunity.

Let’s begin.

*Disclaimer: Please, do not, above all, call me a substandard revolutionary in all things edible; rather, take some consideration for what I plan on discussing. Before I start, I would like to indicate there’s really no wrong way of going through any cooking process, but there’s a lot of things one can do to completely upend the creation of a successful meal.

*The best ingredients are always fresh, cooperative, but generally simplistic.

*Taste your food often. If you don’t like it, someone else probably won’t.

*Use wine.

Azeitao White

The magic response, rather than the question, seems apparent now. “Use wine” you say? Yes, you will use wine tonight. Whether or not you actually can utilize it, is beyond question; since most of anything vinous in the kitchen-side, is friendly enough for any epicurean concoction. I’ve seen curries take-on the common Tannat and I’ve encountered Muscats in corn muffins. Laugh as you will, I can go on forever about this...Believe it or not, there’s many things your cupboard-bound wine portfolio is not openly describing. Perhaps one, is the foundation on which most stews, sauces, bases, rues, etc. are made: A Dry Wine. Yes, you have probably read all the supermarket leaflets describing ways to uplift the ante of your dish by using whites, or reds that originated somewhere between red burgundies and white Bordeaux. The latter is always true, but you have to know who you’re getting it from in order impart that same flavor profile back into your entree.

Juan Gil

I want you to second-guess me here, because today, I’m not talking about French wine when it comes to sure-fire cooking. Sure, I’d probably be the one preaching about how the international aspects of “Vins Des Cuisines” are succinctly French, but I too, get tired of such gestures. I have a little bottle of “JP” that does the trick when I’m braising shellfish, or roasting anything winged. It’s a white wine, it’s from Portugal, It’s blended, and I can’t say how many times It’s pulled me out of some tense situations. When I need to deglaze, or simply disengage those scratchy bits of protein stuck to a pan bottom, It really works. It’s not a big white, or a stony, mineral-driven one, but It has enough fruit to justify a carnivore’s Sunday roast. Red, red, red...what do we do with you exactly? I’m not sure, that is, because it really depends on what you’re making. I’ve seen “Lamb Malbec” (the dish) prepared with all the implicit possibilities. The wine can be a great choice for beef and cuts of cloven-footed animals, but let’s not stop there. In a manner, pastas can take a Chianti Colli Senesi, or anything of a birthright within the common Sangiovese...”Denominatzione?” Not applicable. My favorite all-time, no blunder, ‘easy-done-it’ red, has to be Juan Gil. Now, some of my friend would beg me to be serious, but I stand unflinching in my attempt to take-on shouts and dirty expletives here. J.G.’s Monastrell (i.e. Mourvedre, Mataro) is about $14-16 bucks depending on where you buy it, but the ingredient is a prime factor in many of my favorite dishes. Paella? Its tannins eagerly temper starches and the crusty “socarrat.” Chicken? It’s earthy tonnage and herbal notes flavor the entire bird. Barbecue? With a little brown sugar and lime, your next pork dish will represent why loins are the most popular hangups.

I don’t know about most people, but the general Idea is to fare the economy when finding that irreplaceable “cooking wine.” I don’t intend to encourage eager consumers to spend fortunes in order to find the right one, but there’s more advantageous choices to be made in buying better products. If you find yourself at the brim of a bottle that appears “too reasonable,” then it’s probably not worth the ruination suffered in those occasional gastronomic blunders we all experience at one time or another. As many forefathers and foremothers have duly respected the golden rule of cooking, it pays to know that we can always add something, but never take it out.

The trick is, to understand the addition.

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

Solving Winter...Slightly.

2011-12-02T09:26:00.001-05:00

Nectar D'Or

Emerson said something about a winter Idyl...judging from the text and the length of the epic poem, I think most of us can understand the feelings he tried to evoke. I figure, with the oncoming snow and the beleaguring sense of “self” that comes with seasonal depression, there’s got to be something out there to evade it altogether. Though I think Ralph’s feelings were sort of ambivalent, I can vouch for that too. I can’t say for sure if there’s anything I can do to pull you out of the inextricable period between December and February, but I can try. Like the change in seasons, people’s tastes, wants and crankiness will prevail. Overall, the time spent figuring out what to do about it, tends to overtake the entire idea of what it means to wait for springtime. Fussiness, inability to cope with icy roads, snow-days and the overheated homes of relatives, all contribute. Though when you’re inundated with downy flakes, don’t refer back to me as the saint bernard who lovingly trots to you when you’re stuck in the after-effects of an avalanche; both personal, or climactic. At least, consider me a seller of fineries who gets the blood flowing to the proper extremities.

Why not use Scotch? With a little ice, a little water, (not tap) if necessary, and some dispensable income, you can have an easy winter. Attention! I’m not associated with any medical practice whatsoever, but I recommend not going with my advice on how to stay warm and healthy during snowstorms. I, if anything, have been told that in an emergency situation, you’re better off keeping your core temperature at stasis, than to have your fingers and toes brimming with plasma...as correlated in the practice of drinking too much liquor that is. Nonetheless, it’s good to have all the proper warming accessories available: jackets, gloves, scarves, etc. I mean, that’s obvious, but you don’t want to lose any one appendage on my behalf. Forgive the rant though, since what I’m really trying to emphasize, are the niceties of the port, sherry and sauternes casks when it comes to single malts. “What?” you reply, but don’t worry...despite the lack of theme, and the fact I can’t guarantee that you’ll feel cozied by a peaty scotch, the stuff warms me up just fine when I think about them.

With more than a couple of chances at a good guess, you might already know what’s to be tasted in scotch that’s aged in any of the proper barrels that I mentioned previously; all of which, have all been used in the production of the most recognizable fortified wines. Take port for example, a rich, ruby-to-tawny colored one that lends traceable nuances of raisin and candied nuts into your single malt. Whereas, with the sherry wood, you can afford, generally, a full-bodied whiskey that implies caramel, with a chance to develop some creamy overtones. Glancing at Sauternes, the wine is soft, floral and honeyed on its own, but using the oak is going to harmonize and balance that traditional citrusy profile. It’s an equilibrium that has more sway with notes of orange blossom and gooey, spiced cakes. It might seem unreal, but the proof is there if your palate can manage it.

Port Cask

Perhaps the most noted producer in any attempt to use unconventional ageing standards is “Glenmorangie.” Banking on twelve years to age some of the most delectable scotch available on the market, the well-practiced trifecta of their wine cask maturation processes is probably one of the best. Their “Nectar D’Or” a.k.a, Nectar of Gold, is perhaps why Sauternes is equally famous for their aperitifs, as they are for creating fantastic single malts. Some argue that this is the only scottish producer that has taken a highland specialty and actually imparted flavors commonly found in french white wine. Though rough in comparison, it’s still a damn good product. Think ginger, meringue, nutmeg and lemon syrup....how enthralling. The port cask is just as nice, recalling damson, fruitcake, plum skin and a touch of something like pfeffernuse...I’m not kidding, it’s like a Germanic cookie with a higher proof. The Sherry, is nominally, the most interesting, given its nod to creme brulee, burnt orange and the interpretive peatiness that pushes through like five spice powder blended with a little extra Sichuan pepper.

I can’t say whether or not the Scottish know how to keep humans warm with a barrel and a couple of stills, but they give me that lusty, heat bearing sensation that can only be transposed by good scotch. To each, the idea of a “Single Malt” is only best described by the lone producer, and the one and only malt of the barley grain that is the basis for the distillation, the ageing and the unending excitement. Now, I have heard that a little soda can make old uses for the stuff reappear, but I wouldn’t dare nowadays to even think of putting anything extra inside my glass other than some water from the local streams in which the Scots need to create their most valuable export. Curling up with a glass of port, sherry, or a little nip of Sauternes may be more practical, but when there’s a cold front ahead, your liquor cabinet passcode should read:

12-15-18-20-25-30

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

Holiday Prologue...Sort Of.

2011-11-25T10:19:00.000-05:00

Goldschlager

Though I already made my plight about the holiday last week, I seem to have, at my own dysfunction, forgotten about dessert. It’s a nominal part of the festivity and everyone is entitled to it, but I wonder...Is there any actual positivity to the idea of alcohol being applied to sweets and confections? Yes...there’s a good cross-reference to Grand Marnier truffles, rum cakes and even the sporadic use of framboise for brioche tarts, I would suggest maybe once, to top-off the night with a drink. I mean, you can still have all the fanciful pies, cookies, or collections of sugary amusements, but there’s something a friend and I cooked-up one night that you might enjoy.

Now, please don’t be alarmed, but when I say “cooked-up,” I don’t necessarily mean a scientific hodgepodge, but rather, a controlled experiment. I remember it being somewhat cold outside, and there was little to do, since our immediate families had already turned-in. Consequently, there was nothing more amusing than the ambience of old films. Blasphemy...not for the movies, but honestly, what is there to drink after you’ve had the fill of savory and, or, sweet?

Remember Goldshlager? it sounds like a German beer brand, but it’s actually the quintessence of Swiss ingenuity represented in floating specks of actual gold. I swear that it’s perfectly edible, there’s no worry for elemental poisoning here, since most people can’t overdose on Au79; really, most jewelry outlets will be happy to accommodate you based on this principle. Basically, it’s cinnamon schnapps, with a lot more personality than others would suggest with peaches, blackberries, or any other fruits. Lo, it comes in a plunger-shaped bottle! Interesting, but tasty as well, and it’s going to help me emphasize the storied concoction I previously mentioned.

Canton Ginger

All you need really, is some mulled cider, (i.e. apple cider, cloves, cinnamon, and dried orange lightly heated over a stovetop) a dollop of sweet “creme fraiche” and a final drizzle of caramel. You can add the Goldschlager to the cider mix at any time, but most people realistically, add enough to meet their personal requisites. I think It’s a fantastic warm cocktail that really shows its worth all through the wintertime bouts of seasonal depression. For whatever value it is, it takes one spirit to know another, so don’t hesitate to use ginger liqueur, see: “Canton.” If cinnamon is not worthwhile to you, this item can alleviate the boredom found in common schnapps, by having that little bit of Cognac to mingle with that gingerly aspect.

I think it’s a good idea to have something a bit warmer this time of year, instead of always relying on cool, refreshing drinks all the time. Not to say that a warm cocktail cannot be somewhat refreshing, but It very well could cleanse the palate, if not being the marker for a more relaxing Christmas, or new year. I usually like to sit down with an old friendly mixer at some time during the holidays and It can prove its worth if I actually have the time to make one. Beyond shopping and planning, cooking and merrymaking, I hope we all have the scheduling necessary to look back on the year with a warm cup of something.

Make it a good something...

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

Prelude to Gobbling

2011-11-18T09:08:00.000-05:00

Berger BZ

I know what you’re mulling-over...It’s the seemingly obligatory blog entry that has something to do with Thanksgiving. Ok, fine...but when the gaggles of cranberry sauce, root vegetables and bird proteins lay on the table, you must wonder if something is missing. Now, as a second-guess, you might ponder that I have something to mention about my own family, aside from the fact that politics, posthumous Yankee games and hereditary diseases comprise our major themes of discussion. Regardless, a talkative handful of relatives is necessary, but to whittle away the hours with chatter, beer and mouthfuls of tryptophan is somewhat mandatory. Seriously, I don’t mean to peel back the expectations of such a bountiful day, or create some new traditions, but I would recommend going with something other than a top Brunello, or Cabernet as the right approach to holiday drinking. Nearly ever year, I tend to approach people looking for sumptuous, full-bodied, fruit-laden, or abundantly hedonistic wine at a time when there’s an inclined necessity to gorge and splurge. That’s fine...I mean, with the right stomach, anything is possible; more or less, I aim to save others from the possibility of gastrointestinal hellfire. By right, a subtle, more austere selection of reds and whites are easier to swallow.

“Blauer Zweitgelt!”

What an audacious way to start and offset the second paragraph don’t you think? Of course, this is purely for dramatic effect, but there’s no reason to be overcome here; that is, if you know what I’m talking about. I have no intention of being sketchy, but there’s rarely a need for any other exclamation other than the conventional “wow” if you take Zweitgelts into consideration. Berger’s is not dense, weighty, or mouth-filling, but it shows the immediate promise of practical wine. Blue-tinged, with an equilibrium of weight, juicy dark berries and azure fruit, this varietal is the miracle red for feasts of all sorts, including the conventional Thanksgiving cornucopia. A clone of “Blaufrankish” and “St. Laurent,” the grape tends to yield a complex profile similar to say, other berry-oriented wines like Pinot Noir, Dolcetto, Barbera and just about anything coaxed from Gamay. The surprising thing about it, is the varietal’s fruit-laden personality does not detract from an annual meal that is, by all measures, hefty in proportion. The Austro-Germanic appeal of cool grape-growing seasons and bavarian appetites, appear to have coincided with it’s production. Perhaps it’s why people are looking forward to “Spatburgunder,” a.k.a. German Pinot, as the new Burgundy and not paying so much attention to the long-dominated wine trades of appellations like “Gevrey-Chambertin,” or, “Cotes-De-Beaune.” Sure, these choices still as versatile, but after you’ve spent good money on delectable eats, the last thing you want to do is feel remorseful when mashing, what should be, two special occasions into one. No one is going to notice hints of “underbrush” and “garrigue” when Parents grand, or plain, are verbally lauding this year’s version of ‘potatoes a la anything.’

I could have given-up and went the Beaujolais route, but I’m not going to do that. Consequently though, I think the region still makes fantastic table wine, but we’ve seem to have broken down its common varietals into one obvious choice. I repeat my previous exclaims again in spirit, but If you must, Italy may be able to help us with, per se, the adaptable “Lagrein,” or, “Rosso Di Montalcino.” Hint: Lead-on from any Rosso Toscano as well. Loire Valley reds and Whites are the unofficial French connection to our most familiar day of quenching thirsts and pangs of hunger. Oh, and Give that noticeable wink to the ever-expanding thirsting part. The one maxim to uphold though, is not a statement, but something to remember: “There are a ton of reasonable choices in wining your way into a successful night of food and drink.” It’s too easy now. Intrinsically, Petite Sirah may be too kirschy, or Liqueur-rich, but if you find the right one, let’s say, the starkly balanced type, it can work well if manipulated into a brambly, juicier wine with fine-grained tannins. Needless to say, I’m not going to leave the Portuguese out of this one either, since the brunt of their productions are practical food wines. From the expression in the glass, to the words emanated from my lips: “Good Job Portugal!”

Breggo Gewurz

Whites might need a little more analysis given the fact that I already mentioned the Northwesterly parts of France. There’s no wrongdoing in choosing anything from “Languedoc-Roussillon,” or a light, creamy “N.Z.S.B” (New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc) As-is, my trademark white wine for the holiday is nothing askew from the classic Gewurztraminer. Soft and light, but hinting towards the supple, they make phenomenal choices. Some may call it sweet, some implore ripeness, however, I call it a nominated entry. There’s some debate to this one, but I feel it has earned the Golden Turkey placard. Let’s say it embodies the flora of Viognier and macerated pit fruits. Take the “Breggo” gewurz. Even though i may sound hypocritical, the price is comparatively higher than the average fourteen-dollar mark. Given, it’s the one thing that may alleviate the uncertainty of having slightly-chilled whites in the late fall. Usually an Alsatian pedigree, this one is of Californian stock, but with the old influences remaining; nectarines, hazelnut and ripe persimmon...pliant, gorgeous and feathery.

Even if you manage to do good with one of those thematic Thanksgivings, like say, a mexican flare-up, or some fusion of Ethiopian and the usual fare, you should have no doubts about some of my timely recommendations. Despite how cost-effective, how relevant, or reasonable the price, It takes some time to discover that there’s a varietal for every occasion borne from eating. There are no promises and no contracts, but something about the traditions that are built and amended as your family sees fit. Perhaps you don’t need wine to partake, but for those who think it can enliven the mood, or complement the felicity of long evenings, it might be somewhat justifiable. I have afforded loosely, the label of a “wine guy” but there’s no reason to take me as literally and simply by the title. I am, if anything, just another beacon that fosters the human appeal towards wine. Forgive me if I appear so brash, or reliant on sentimentality, but even a handful of the world’s best vintages seem reticent without the bond of something much more familial.

There’s no reasonable critique for that.

***Happy Thanksgiving to all my readers.***

-Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

Des Pineaux Perdus.

2011-11-11T09:58:00.002-05:00

Francois French Pineau

Incredulous, unheard-of and simply passed-over, there’s yet another thing we’ve managed to shun away from our ill-experienced lips. Hmmm...maybe that’s too harsh of a generalization; but on the contrary, most people would forget to notice a digestif as it is. For example, confront yourself with these indispensables: Pinot, Chard, Cab and Merlot. Does it make sense? Possibly...but here’s my issue: What happens after you’re done drinking them? Or, more imperatively, what is the best thing to have after your full? What goes on after dinner, or, beyond that moment in which you realized your dessert was the least bit imposing? Worries are nothing uncommon and we all have the same uncertainties when deciding on what to do at feasts-end. Do we let ladies repair to the drawing room while the gents swirl brandy and speak puffery over politics and cigars? I hope in a single eon from now, that we don’t readdress the old stuffiness and parlor talk identified in the climax of a get-together. No, simply pick-up a piece of bottled history. Especially one that has waned very little from the old craftsmanship; seeing, if possible, that it does not owe itself to impractical social gestures and questions of “taste.”

For emphasis on this, a brandywine that has more to do with unadulterated juice than the grapes, or even the distillation itself, is probably the reason why “Pineau Des Charentes” has been slightly forgotten. Pronounced like “Pinot” with a little more “oooh!” in the three latter vowels, it’s rarely mentioned in the United States, or elsewhere. Hailing from a place just within Cognac, the spirit, and, or, aperitif, was one of those happy accidents whose creation was benchmarked sometime during the 16th century. As many tales have been stretched, purported, or made-up, the chief thing to understand is that the “mistake” was nothing less than a misdirected placement of unfermented grapemust with a great deal of “eau-de-vie.”

Now, you might call this a drunkard’s embellishment, but like some of the best hodgepodges in the world, Pineau is something more than the common man’s desire for practical inebriation. Year-old Cognac and the juice that’s used in the after-dinner specialty, is poured into barrels and then set to begin fermentation. Grapes used, imply Sauvignon, Folle Blanche, Colombard, Ugni Blanc Semillon and Montils. However, some of the red-tinged varieties leave me to phenol-based guessing games. I tend to like the crimson P-De-C’s a little better than those with a traditional golden-yellow hue, but as always, I wouldn’t say no to a bottle of either-or. Aging time is a remarkable 18 months and sometimes as little as eight. There are standards of course, but depending on tradition, the reds are usually are the lesser coaxed, while the whites experience more time in oak. If that’s not a viticultural anomaly, it’s one I look forward to supporting.

Amazingly cocktail friendly, i would have to think that "Lillet" and "Cocchi Americano" have some competition. I like the idea of rousing-up some of Pineau’s more gallant mixers. For one, the “Charentes Cocktail,” is basically one part gin and our notable aperitif, with a pimento-filled olive to finish. The “Rainbow Sour” is a classic peach brandy, any one citrus fruit and simple syrup. My favorite is the “Charentais” which blends framboise, fresh lemon juice and yes, more Cognac. Stylistically, the hairdo-inspired “Pompadour” is best served however you want it...no matter how you interpret the blending, it’s smooth enough to put your local crooner out of business.

Prunier Pineau

I do not abide by producers all the time, but I have to wonder who had the “boules,” figuratively speaking, to name a Pineau: “Francois French.” As it stands, the person sounds like the culturally ambiguous Chef who dominates more adolescent needs and wants. Good thing for adults though, because Francois is not a corporate icon; but rather, a peddler of juicy, more refined tastes, that somehow, do not offend us with his decision to utilize three-fourths cognac, instead of one. Powerful, but fresh and lively, this is one of the few carmine-colored exports I can drink with unmitigated neatness. As for the honey-rich “Prunier,” or, “Pasquet,” I tend to think that worker bees are diversifying their efforts outside the comb. Pinches of savory and ripe apricot complete the equation for an average of twenty-five, to thirty bucks worth of long-repeated enjoyment.

I do not know of anything more inviting than a European twist on an old nightcap. Pineau may be a staple in older avenues and it may be stuffy to those who still make comments...but I like it. Aside from the ‘Pour champagne on it,’ aesthetic in popular drinking, it makes for some quick refreshments as well. No need to mix, because it’s good on its own and will compete amongst the dynastic reds and whites of similar, if not reasonable fortification....port, or sherry sir? I don’t think it will take-flight in the way producers are hoping for, but I feel a powerful effort ahead that will make Cognac known for something other than its direct conceits.

Heh, Pineau...it’s just brandy and must, but worth the having part.

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit Us @: westchesterwine.com

Carménère...Now What

2011-11-03T14:54:00.003-04:00

Oops Carm

'Arma-dilla, Li-barry, Mer-Lot, Carmen-ner-ee’...do you notice a pattern here? Perhaps you know of these common mispronunciations, but the last word has the overburden of being verbally misshapen. Like the countless boasts of an Oil-Baron’s “Yee-Haws! and the presence of an “Aww-Shucks,” every so often, popular references to this Chilean cashcrop include: “Carum-nere, Carmen-i-niare, or, “You know! That red wine beginning with C and ending with an E !” Although I have a short command of the French language, my difficulty with it, stems from not having enough time to learn the proper inflections within the “Accent Aigu,” or the “Accent Grave.” I’m told, it's practically mandatory in order to speak the name of many Francophone grapes...including this one. So much of the trouble with this crimson dynamo has nothing to do with proper diction, but recognizing its presence in the marketplace and seeing it as more than a disposable, cheap wine best suited for your latter period lunch-breaks.

Yes, the berries need a little more heat to ripen, a little more attention due to a high content of “Methoxypyrazine,” which may translate to a higher level of vegetative notes. Remanding it to a useful cooking wine is not the answer though, given the “grassy” notes you can expect, are usually backed-up by high concentrations of juiciness and overall fruit content. My cause for concern, is the threat of Carménère losing its diacriticals when people liken the grape to Merlot. Studies have shown that, if anything, the DNA match-up exists around the parental Cabernet Franc and the extinct strain of “Gros Cabernet” that resided in Bordeaux for some time. Trying to understand varietal differences, it’s difficult to see the gobs of red fruits found in the ‘Big M‘ and all the dessert spices that entail.

Andina Rsv Carm

Cab is, in fact, a more genial comparison, given all those toasty, savory, vanillin-rich notes found within. Call it “Grand Vidure” and there’s no element of surprise there, considering that it practically means “Big Cabernet.” Oenologists and wine dorks may tell you, its tertiary name, “Biturica” had the Romans using the word to refer back to the Bordelaise...which leaves me guessing. I think there’s more to it than the extents of what South America has been doing with Carm; but really, the producers deserve some much-needed attention. Think “Chili” and not “Chile,” because there’s a great deal of hot, roasted red pepper to partake in when you look at something other than fruit nuance. Smokiness is also optional, with darker, more voluminous notes of blackberries, currants and yes, even woodland mushrooms appearing. I’ll leave you to search the verdure of your mind to figure out if It’s Terra Andina RSV, or another one that’s a little more casual in its assessment of the word “Oops !”

There is too much to be savored here, but still, there are only shades of interest. Despite the unfortunate mispronunciations, misguidance and overall threats from old phylloxera louses and a lackluster market, it continues to baffle seasoned, if not well-experienced palettes. I would say something about the endearing quality of its typical, medium-bodied structure, but beyond the morale of an almost old-world style, with new-world aspirations for it, this wine deserves more than just a taste. Juxtaposing it with Merlot or Cabernet won’t do, because its only the growing patterns that appear similar, not the flavour. Give it time, give it concern and you’ll notice there’s more than just punctuations to be had.

Accents will also suffice you....

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse

Visit Us @: westchesterwine.com

Emphasizing Pigato.

2011-10-28T08:50:00.002-04:00

Gorleri Pigato

Obtaining Italy’s rarest varietals were once met with a sense of obstruction only seen in FDA regulations, import laws and the doldrums of parkway traffic. As a rule, I intend only to go far as I need to equate my daily commute with wine, but I would like to emphasize something...It’s been one difficult ride. No, it’s not the kind of journey that resurges old misgivings about bad gas mileage and untended potholes, but the ability to try new things without the uncertainty of possible enjoyments. I’ve completed enough case studies for Pelaverga, Uva Rara, Freisa, Mantonico and Cococciola, to explain why Italian wine has been so difficult to comprehend at times. Though there’s more to my travails, it has been a war of availabilities, with the only thing stopping me, being an indirect wave of consumer interest. Like an old Venetian smuggler trying to make good on foreign wares, I present to you, one of the finest fruits from a land that everybody knows, but where only some have traveled.

“Pigato,” a veritably misunderstood grape whose pronunciation conjures up the image of an opera clown who, by right, is less than comical. First of all, there’s no makeup, no vibratos and especially, no juggling.Thought to have been named for its speckled exterior, the “Pighe” a.k.a. “spots,” arrive when the bunches mature. However, it’s a pretty common white wine from Liguria that exists among others hailing from its scattered, seaside terraces; whereby, the region itself rests just above the geographical knee-joint of Italy. Vineyard space is low and the winemaking is somewhat difficult due to steep, rugged hillsides that are, at times, only accessible by boat. Making the most sense out of this, the difficulty in harvesting is probably why the international market has been strained in attempt to bring it to us.

Pigato Grapes

But it is available nonetheless...and good thing too, because the limestone soils and seaside climate pinpoints this complex white that does not overcompensate for say, a “Vermentino” that somehow, has garnered more popularity in North America. The “Riviera Ligure di Ponente” Denomination covers some reds, but the remarkable thing, is that the fuss could be better made for the ruddy little white varietal that for some time, I’ve been pretty excited about. Think saline, piney notes accompanied by citrusy drops of lime cordial and sauteed lemongrass. Nonetheless, a mid-weight profile is not uncommon, but ultimately the best part of most Pigato, which can finish with a subtle, feathery finish that suggests a hidden creaminess. Poggio De Gorleri makes one that has all the precedents for the cultivar, but adds that interesting touch of mineral.

Seafood works exceptionally well, considering there’s a point to which Pinot Grigio, Greco, and Falanghina cannot be relied upon all the time; considerably so, even when the perfume of bivalves and swordfish can be flowing through the undertows of the nose. Those who suffer from Tilapia syndrome can instantly augment a meal that would, in other mindsets, seem boring and unjustified. I have had enough of mild sea-fare, but more so, I have disliked too many whites that are definitively puerile, or overly citric. I think I’ve actually found something other than a Rhone white that I can bring home without the threat of aggressive fruit, or acidic brightness.

What an equilibrium to be had, what a burden to uphold.

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

Dudes' Faces

2011-10-20T16:20:00.000-04:00

"Agh!" What sort of man was Fragonard?"

-William Carlos Williams

Clemente VII

Call me crazy, no, seriously...call me crazy, because there’s one thing that I have never understood about wine. Yes, believe it or not, I am in need of some sort of practical lesson in why so many artful miseries are created when a guy’s face becomes the inspiration for a label. Call it irrelevant, but I have witnessed enough silhouettes, cameos, profiles, self-portraits and ungainly mugshots to make my own ill-afforded scrapbook. Furthermore, I’m very aware of all the references made to all persons historic, or otherwise; oh, and I do not wish to undermine the accomplishments of explorers, countrymen, religious denizens, or anyone of pertinence. However, I’m curious about what the giggly customer has in store when they might, in all wonderment, look upon a picture of Christopher Columbus and figuratively guess as to whether or not there’s a Chianti that’s just as intrepid as he. Well, if you must know, he and his crew ate salt-lettuce as a preventative measure against scurvy. I never knew the man, but as an old adage can be reworked, “We are composed by what is consumed.”

Sorry if I scared you in the introduction, there is a lot of great Chianti to be had, regardless of who is profiled on the bottlefront; besides, it is your enjoyment that suffices. Plainly I state, that all of this is some kind of phenomenon that had existed, probably, since the creation of a worldwide wine market; but fortunately, the innate practice has not ceased altogether. I am perfectly open to the suggestion that a red, white, or rose, can be regal as the person represented on-cover, but the sensible quirkiness, or comedic value cannot be ignored. Laughs aside, the most puzzling thing, is that Italy has been continuing to imprint, recreate, or dredge-up old namesakes at a more steady rate than any other country. Now, I can’t say if this is could be a statistic reality, but I’ve come across quite a few gentleman idly gazing at me in manners that I don’t wish to examine.

Cerro Vino Noble

Take Clemente VII for instance, an unflinching, relaxed fellow who might suggest that Chianti is from the Veneto, rather than Tuscany. Being religiously clueless at times, I probably would have mistook him for the Merchant of Venice. Dressed in the traditional garb of a pope at the time, this figure was actually a cardinal before his papal election in November of 1523. Giovanni de Medici as he was earlier known, was sighted for his prudence toward humanity and the arts, not politics. Good thing too, because we want to take the legislation out of wine. What better way to represent oneself than with fine leather, wild cherries, good smoke and a well-rounded personality.

Another guy, is the late Composer, Carlo Gesualdo; who, despite a fairly controversial career and life, remains as one of the most innovative Renaissance men in the disciplines of erotic songwriting. Without shame, he chronicled his personal exploits of promiscuity and sadism within his works. Heh, maybe I’ve got the wrong dude, so-to-speak, but after some thought, Fattoria Del Cerro’s “Vino Noble De Montepulciano,” is racy enough to excuse the wine’s producer from highlighting a true radical on the label. Aged for two years in Slovenian and French oak, the blend is dense and rich, showing notes of cherry, plum and vanilla without hesitation. K

K.W. Canary Hill

Notwithstanding, American producers also have their fun with less than discreet interpretations of characters that have, or do exist in the known world. They might not be entirely famous, but the depictions are somewhat amusing if not exact. Ken Wright has not been bashful in his attempt to portray the hoi-polloi of Oregon, but his dynastic vintages of Pinot Noir seem to make up for the cartoonish mishmosh of anyone closest to him. The 2009 vintages of the “Abbot Claim” and “Canary Hill” vineyard lots are the essence of handcrafted Pinot these days, but there’s no mistaking whose hands are actually doing the work. As the day comes to a close, the personalities are remembered whether or not you’re drinking the wine, or making it yourself.

I am transfixed, curious and somewhat lacking in words for some pictures, but in totality, I think the portraitures should continue. They lend a certain sense of humanity to the wine produced, or if not, they can tend to be candidly funny. I don’t know whether to praise the artwork, the figureheads, or the winemakers, but I am very thankful there’s someone on the label.

At least some of the time...

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us @WestchesterWine.com

Being That It's Almost Hallowe'en

2011-10-13T18:55:00.002-04:00

Poizin Zinfandel

It could be I’m a bit jaded about Hallows’ Eve and its ensuing holiday. I have been wanting to make up for the lack of lukewarm nights of certain trickery and indulgent treating by painting my prodigiously black-bearded self, a light tinge of periwinkle blue; covering intently, my whole body. In tandem, I would hold a glittering silver lightning bolt in one hand, while the sea-dripping carcass of a purple octopus limply resides in the other. A faux, navy-colored ort cloud being the only piece to cover my abject nakedness while I emphatically recite, line-for-line, the entire scope of Hesiod’s “Theogeny.” Heh, though It seems that we celebrate this kind of smut and kitschiness when Halloween is coming around, it’s the one holiday that bodes well for pop-pagans, remedial occultists and readied children. For me, the definitive perks were the annual expectation that the Garfield and Charlie Brown re-runs would reappear, or, the chance to present myself as that brash, azure character I previously mentioned. Gorging myself till all the chocolate ran out was fun, but behold! Amidst the re-edits of comprehensive horror films and that same old lukewarm effect of office parties without costume, remembrances of keeping up with Jones’ decorations and delinquents’ creativities, it all resonates with the usual ho-hum effect.

Schwarze Black Cat

Let’s not forget the parents who mischeviously prate-on with heads-of-household to quell their own lack of social and confectionary amusements, while pre-adolescents pray to be involved in the intramural, yet painful variety of “tag sports;” represented bluntly, in teenagers’ flour-filled gym socks, torrents of spoiled eggs and irritant shaving creams. Traditions though, are quite funny, because you never see wine brought into the foreground of Halloween’s localized spectacles. There are certain parallels to the idea that good juice is a symbol of the holiday’s allowance for one night’s worth of debauch and self-gratification. ‘It’s all supposed to be harmless fun’ one could remark, but there’s nothing less spooky than a night without twisted perceptions and googly-eyed knick-knacks. I don’t mean to sound like a doctor, but the common ailments suffered during this one particular day, may call for significant doses of riesling, or red zinfandels.

Laugh as you will, but I’m being serious enough to help you see the connection here. Although I have two thematically charged items that will make any Jack-O-Lantern’s smile seem a bit more wide, the best thing about a riesling may be, if you choose a more fruit-forward one, the experience of something sweet without the gut-rot semblances of milk balls and petrified toffees. It’s something that the cool, fall weather has brought about in order to quench those desires for something a little sweeter, maybe a bit lighter than usual, and can still make those heavy autumnal foods seem like spring hors d’oeuvres. Do you need that quintessential Black Cat as a foyer centerpiece? Zeller Schwarze has a bottle that’s shaped like the one feline that foreshadows superstitious mystery. No, there’s no pictures here, it’s a bottle molded to represent the contours of the creature itself. Perhaps, the one morbid curiosity here, is that a liquor-rich white wine with notes of apricot and vanilla pour directly from the top of its inanimate head...I’m just saying, don't you think it’s a bit weird? That’s all...

If Americans still have a crush on “Jolly Roger” there’s more to his clichéd likeness than just dry bones. “Poizin” is not only another hackneyed item in the marketing of Red Zinfandel, but the communication of its worth, like most bottles, rests in its liquid content. I digress thoughtfully, because if it weren’t for the ominous labeling and the poem on back, the red would have never made it past my word processor...it would be a tasty something that would have been ill-forgotten until next October. Almost hallowed on its own, the Zin boasts of a traditional array of ripe black and blue fruits, bordering on that eerie, mouth-filling richness seen only in such a varietal. I shudder, wondering about the lack of it during feasts of roast duck and root vegetables; unlike some people, the challenge in seeing if one can survive its bounty may be equally as frightening.

I can do all the exhorting that’s required to show you the proper Halloween bottle, but there were some in which eligibility was present, but altogether they missed the mark when effusing the holiday spirit. I thought of talking about Erna Schein again, but would “The Cemetery” be a practical entry ? Its caricature is somewhat depressing, if not baleful enough; but, it’s a symbol of artisanal talent at a price that does not always meet the demands of household costume parties. A lot of wine is lurking, you have to take a long journey through those long, dark, recesses of the mind. Something which if ever, may enable you to be a little more provocative than you already are.

Toil, or trouble, I hear the cauldron a-bubblin.

Happy Halloween !

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us and view our holiday selections @: westchesterwine.com

Blossoming Gin

2011-10-06T13:55:00.000-04:00

Citadelle Gin

It’s not an anomaly, although you have probably witnessed a few stately gentleman bearing the pink badge of courage every so often. No, not it’s not “rosacea,” or something imparted from an "Old Boy" attitude that would remark on all the torpedo liquor that one could have imbibed sometime during World War II. Nope, I’m talking about the roseate sign that anyone would see on their nose after a night of heavy “Ginification” as I call it...a condition represented by sour faces and bubbly hiccups; two of many symptoms, which have endured all other fables and comedic interpretations of common boozing. I am surprised by the overwhelming lack of adulteration that a good bottle of gin is custom to, but I always find myself going back to a fatherly favorite, telling my bartender to whisk up some new, deconstructed version of a “G-and-T.” Addressing him, I implore that “A little bit of lime cordial can go a long way.” Resulting, he looks at me with that rare, half-cocked, upward gaze and smiles...”You know, you’re a rare bird my friend, maybe you should join the other squawkers in the sanctuary,” he says. My reply is simple...“Yeah, you think?”

Wow, for all the times that man has been downtrodden, disrespected and left as wolfbait, gin has always been there. Oh how it has been the inclusive sign of impure nights and lavish hob-nobbing; well, that depends on what brand you spend your hard-earned money to obtain. Now, most would say, that in the trials of youth, a chase of orange juice could be all that one would need; yes, that is, if experiencing the inebriate state not offered by dad’s hideaway of six-packs and cheap scotch. There’s new sense to it after all, considering more so than ever, it has become a study of how many botanicals and spices you can count in a glass. We’re not talking about the essence of paint-thinners, turpentines, or varnishes found in garages or sculleries, but the distiller’s divine technique to caress and manipulate their palate and ours, with hints of juniper.

The first thing you learn in the AP class of Gin-making, outlines the use of pine berries to create something recognizable. Usually found in the 90th percentile of primary ingredients, the purity of the juniper is the aim and focus of the trade. Most of what you can buy in an Indian grocery, is probably worth considering if you want to bolster your product. The copper “Carterhead Still,” or “Moonshine Doubler,” are the more difficult items to come across; so in lieu, your homestead hooch barons have some interesting tasks ahead of them. Some will practice the indefinite art of infusions while using other spirits, but I’m sticking with artisanal savoir-faire. You don’t need to cash-in federal bonds to afford it, because there’s some producers who have forgotten low-brow pretension and focused on the benefits of their own precocity.

Averell Damson Gin

Take “Citadelle”...think of cardamom, coriander, orange peel, eucalyptus, heather and so on...It’s undoubtedly something that I can drink straight-off the pour, when single-malts, or nut-brown bourbons aren’t working. It’s something that only a cube of ice can cross by, without disturbing the overall sense of the nuance. Did I mention it was French? Though many exclamations of “Pourquoi-Pas?” would make sense, it’s better just to try it... twenty bucks will sum-up that future sense of enjoyment as collateral. If you’re game for some nationalism, “Distillery No. 209” is a Californian entry that operates like a swarthy Earl Grey at a temperance-era meetinghouse. Notes of cassia bark, bergamot and angelica root have me wondering if there’s any truth to the idea that our grandfathers‘ simply pharmacists operating out of a wooden shack; that is, with the aid of red long-johns to stave-off the winter chills.

Before, I made some mild remarks about the state of fusion gins, but there’s one thing I cannot overlook. Apparently, someone had the ingenious idea to use the damson plum to burnish the effectiveness of the noble spirit. It’s much more of a liqueur actually, but I’m not worried, it’s still a unique prize-product from “Averell.” That’s ok, because the cocktails are a many, and the appeal only increases from then on. Visions of tenderloins tossed from side-to-side, in a marinade augmented by shallots, garlic and green onion prove fascinating. See? there’s that confidence again, but it’s from a culinary point-of-view. Trust me, all the pork in the world seems good when you have something plummy on hand. Might as well bring the old chaps over for some pig, political discussion and a salute to the future of this handy truth serum.

I don’t know what gin will do next, but its capacity is very clear.

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us online @: westchesterwine.com

The Pinot G's and B's

2011-09-30T22:40:00.001-04:00

Elena Walch P.G.

What’s your latest malefactor? Hmmm...does it have something to do with Pinot Grigio? Excuse my untimely rudeness, but there’s no escaping the fact that the stuff is being lawlessly bogarted. I can plainly see it now: Stink-eyed housewives that do not usually venture beyond the parallels of Santa Margherita say, “What does he mean?” Well, despite this slant objective of mine to talk about the things that bother me, we’ll just assume for the time being that I’m referring to all white wines in general. Why do I say this? Because North America has too long reveled in its ungrateful fixation for a varietal that has, in my opinion, not given anything back to its eager fan-base. If you only knew who P.G.’s forefathers were before it became Italy’s ‘La Aqua Seconda.’ Undetected by consumers, the little scapegrace’s parents are still lampooning as Pinot Noir. Shocking? No, but what is, might be the cultivar’s recent syndication in radio and television. Equally as alarming, we are compelled to be witnessed to the bearing-down of wine lists, and the corruption of hardworking matriarchs.

There is a solution though...it’s called Pinot Blanc...“Balderdash” you say! However, I am being serious though. It would seem odd, almost unpredictable of me to actually condone a relative spawn of a grape that I have very little respect for. Take it as a complement though, since I do not always disagree with things on the Grigio scale, I just happen to experience the same undue malaise for producers who emphasize a massive output.Don’t get me wrong, one of my favorite whites is that of Elena Walch, for which I would not soon forget its attractive balancing act of fruit and brightness, but alternatively, I’m trying to support an underdog here.

Mission Hill Pinot Blanc

“The Blanc” is your sure bet, whether or not you tend to go for the “Pinot Gris” that now underlies an eager host of Oregonian and Californian producers. I like it too, but let’s call it white, and not gray, so this way, we’re not developing any uncertainties here. Alsace has its fare share of Pinot Blanc, but it does not mean that Canada hasn’t been up to some helpful shenanigans. Mission Hill likens the grape to a somewhat heady, but not weight-laden white that suggests uber-ripe stone fruits and plashes of nectarine. If you’re dedicated to Thai cuisine, it’s a sure-fire directive to certain decadence. Want a Gris from France? More specifically, that somewhat Germanic part of the country in the Northeastern sector? Sure, look at Frederic Mallo’s label and wonder why there’s a jovial stork carrying a baby with a similar expression. It’s surname reads: “Special Delivery.” And why not ? It’s certainly not infantile, but suggests young, crisp apples and honeyed tree fruits.

I know Alsace is responsible for the majority of great Blancs, but it doesn’t mean there’s any less merit for the grape in Italy’s “I.G.T.” stronghold. Simply known as the “Bianco” in likable Pinot, its taking a little while for us to recognize its place in the domestic wine chiller. “Weisseburgunder” is also another item to be curious about, since German tourists may wonder why local wine shops have been somewhat lax in their assessment of how profitable it could be. I can see why, since most Gewurztraminers and plushy Rieslings are dominating a market that provides cheap, accessible wines that conform to our long-term obsession towards casement meats and fatty sausage.

Funny...there’s nothing like a Pinot Grigio for braising knockwurst.

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us online @: westchesterwine.com

Indian Influx.

2011-09-15T13:51:00.000-04:00

Brio Shiraz

It takes an almost unreasonable amount of butter and cream to make a good “Dal Makhani.” You also need tomatoes, black lentils and a slew of fresh ground spices and other sundries. Everyone has their own process, but I like a little more chili powder in mine, which could be odd to others who like it without the sense of fiery alarms. It’s supposed to be a creamy, savory indulgence that takes its lycopene base somewhat further than our “Alla Vodka” uncertainties. I am aware that every curry dish is different depending on whose grandma is at the helm of a hot stove; but the best part of that, is the standard to which we conform her traditions. Which nonetheless, are always personal interpretations. Standards are funny conjectures though, especially those that are sometimes set out by regional laws, or even the modesty of indigenous forms of savoir-faire. Granted, all this talk about home-bound culinary rites and delicious entrées, have me wondering what the hell to serve with Indian food tonight.

How about Indian wine? Would that be so wrong? For the threat of anyone’s own personal politics getting in the way, here’s something you didn’t expect... It’s actually really good. Pretentious, if not close-minded, ensuing snorts and nasal snickering are imminent. Even if the public would paint me as a daredevil, there’s no point in anyone wasting their oxygen only to cackle from the interior of their nose. Besides, the confluence of Pinot Grigio either bold, or benign, that’s consumed in the U.S, only accounts for our inability to utilize selective reasoning and at least one of the periodic elements that enable life on this planet.

Maybe I should point out sooner than later, that Merlot is not part of the equation tonight. Rather, some of the underdog varietals should be showcased in this play of traditions. Why? Because we’re tired of assuming that the one grape everyone has seen next to Tandoor specialties, or a Bazar of Chaat starters, is going to have total jurisdiction here. What I am willing to say, is that the rich, red clay soils, similar to that of Australia, create wine that has all the equilibrium one needs from pristine fruit and a marketing theme entrenched in musical terminology. The “Brio:” A Shiraz that’s juicy and invigorating, with blackberry-plum, cracked pepper and chocolate making pretense on the “Good Earth” winery’s future promise. Their “Basso” Cabernet is something of a marvel too, considering it does not lean too graciously towards Cabs that underlie stark currant fruit and scathing oak. Rather, the essence of cola, cocoa bean and mocha are contrast to dollops of boysenberry. The “Aarohi” Blanc is just as austere; with a bevy of yellow fruits, sweetgrass and tousled hay, there’s almost a sense of uncertainty as to why anyone bothers to chill whites which would be otherwise deemed as crisp and flinty.

Aarohi Sauv Blanc

For a country without any sort of appellations system, or denominational laws, the wine is nothing far from a proper anomaly. Aside from the traditional European cultivations, March is usually ideal for the harvesting, considering the threat of monsoons in the traditional old-world, new-world timeframe of the fall season. Also, harvesting takes place ideally during cooler weather conditions, whereas the crushing of said grapes rallies winemakers to use warmer weather as a viticultural marker. However, great appeal lies 120 miles Northeast of Mumbai in the “Nashik” valley, where Good Earth, among other producers, have laid their claim. Introducing North America to Indian wine has been somewhat of a gamble as of recent, due to the lack of consumer thresholds; but with time, the appeal will inevitably grow stronger as other emergent nations have proven.

I cannot say whether the parallel between my trademark Vindaloo and a bottle of Indian Viognier will ever exist, but I’m hoping to see it happen sometime soon. I could imagine having the right varietal around for every traditional dish that I painstakingly try to master, but even with a lifetime of cooking, I cannot say if I’m parlaying new traditions, or just emphasizing my own. Regardless, I know there’s something for every “Bhel Puri,” or “Masala Dosa,” so don’t think we’re disrupting the natural order of things.

I dare you to find a match-up for Sambar though.

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us online @: westchesterwine.com

In The Label.

2011-09-09T10:28:00.003-04:00

Erna Schein Frontman

You’ve heard that familiar anecdote about how “art” supposedly imitates “life.” Rather, is it how the concept in question, can account for the two familiar nouns being switched in order to ask a completely different question? Like many of the things I tend to stress, I’m asking you to ruminate over the idealogical phrase on your own time. One thing I am not qualified for, is the answering of rhetorical questions; sad as it may seem, I cannot divulge upon the uncertainties of art, or, with that in mind, will not create a forum for philosophical jackals. What I would say, is observe, portray and most importantly...enjoy. You know now what I’m talking about. Don’t ever think because you have seen the Mona Lisa, a true Rembrandt, or have illegally inherited a Da Vinci sketch, that you know a good label when you see it. There’s a harsh reality to the fact that most people feel good about purchasing something that has an ornate, if not, a somewhat illustrious piece of bottle artwork. I’m not speaking derisively, it’s a fact, that more people should be considering contents over content.

Sure, It’s pretty, maybe even regal enough to stand-in for those tchotchkes found in the world’s great parliaments, but is the wine actually good? I’ve debated this too many times to ever consider caring anymore. However, I do not disagree with a product that has all the splendor of a Sgt. Pepper’s emblem, or a ruddy, incomprehensible square of soggy paper, loosely affixed to its base. Sure, there’s a lot of good marketing in a cover, but once they’ve caught your eye, does it matter? Yes and no. The chief thing to understand is that the price is good and your local winemonger knows you’ll like it. Sure, there are some obvious choices aside from those “gag bottles” like “Cheapskate, Il Bastardo” and “Fat Bastard,” but we’ll leave those to the nation’s first wine comedian. In fact, the joke is falling on you, because out of the three, the single item you probably wouldn’t buy, may be the one you actually wanted in the end.

There are plenty of oddball labels and such, but none probably more than you would find from Sine Qua Non. Some of which, like “The Line” and “B20” suggest unmitigated indulgence and insanity. Some, even include pictures and idioms that E.E. Cummings would be proud of. Or, maybe, if you’re familiar, Ralph Steadman has created many novel portraits for beer barons and wine gurus alike. His violently illustrations have won him particular controversy with names like “Cardinal Zin,” featuring the likeness of the most venerated person in the papacy. Not only that, his interpretation of the “Old Bastard” came around with a Shiraz from none other than Kaesler Vineyards. Nonetheless, there is no reason why names like these should be ignored, but their artwork becomes washed away in rills of phenomenal wine.

Various Sine Qua Non Labels

Don’t get me wrong, there’s a profusion of great things coming from vintners who choose the matte-white business card style, or build the intricacies behind a photoshopped ‘superlabel.’ Some like “Far Niente, or half of every Chateau denison in Bordeaux thinks there’s some elegance needed to undermine the kitschiness lurking in many art departments. Even if a bottle is painted, malformed, or laughably obtuse, knowing the producer still seems to be the most important aspect in our experiences and interpretations. Like an art dealer embarking on a good career, it’s really not what the piece resembles, but rather, who made it.

I would no sooner trash the ominously goofy labels on a Ken Wright Pinot Noir, than the single Frontman pictured by Erna Schein, but there are some bottles which are obviously too avant-garde in terms of flavor profile, despite their outside appearance. Some would like to think there’s an actual spirit, or consequential nature to the visual interpretation of a product, by way of its actual taste and mouthfeel. Maybe so, but there’s nothing that’s going to prove to me that the likeness of a Red Lion, or a giant rooster has the right to fairytale its way onto my palate and into my pocket.

Watch out "Rubin Czar Lazar", you’re funny, but not that funny....

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us online @: westchesterwine.com

Swiftly Oriented

2011-09-02T10:54:00.002-04:00

Papillon Red

You’re probably wondering what’s going on with the title of this entry. No worry, I’m just taking some time to realize that there’s more to this blogging business than just focusing on opinion alone. Sure, my trademark idiosyncrasies usually seem like personal retrospects that have me blurting out whatever I damn-well please; no, not this time. I bespeak of something more important and someone obviously more keen than myself. Ever hear of Dave Phinney ? If not, recognitions will emerge when I begin to prate well-into the next paragraph. I’m going to be a bit nasty, forgive me, but you’re going to have to wait till the lead is done to discover who, or rather, what I’m talking about. Consider yourself lucky though, my previous statement comes at the risk of having old Journalism professors remonstrating over this press-related “no-no” of mine. Like a juvenile, I say “whatever” and continue on haphazardly. There’s someone more relevant that needs to be profiled here, regardless of the timeliness surrounding this story. Imposing, but every bit as suave, Orin Swift Cellars seems to be at the hilt of handcraft winemaking since 1998, when it began filling glasses and publicly starting a mad dash for anything within its namesake.

Much like Erna Schein or Molly Dooker, there’s some misguidance as to whether or not “Orin” acts as the vigneron at large; but to the odd disappointment of fans, he and the others are only mere portraits, or bynames of other peoples real, or lightly referenced. However, the one behind all the fuss, is simply known as: “Dave.” You might think Mr. Phinney to be a bit of a recluse, with symptoms of claustrophobia and schizophrenia, but that’s only from having looked at one of his labels. Decked in a impenetrably black bottle, and featuring a scraggy, unfinished image of a figure in chains, “The Prisoner” is probably someone you know. Like a good film-noir synopsis, you, or rather, the psyche of the title character, can likely be interchanged in an all-out, gutsy war that tests the psychology of good vs. something perceivably more sinister.

The Prisoner

I could go into endless analogies about whether the wine, or the drinker, is the more captive, but I’ll leave that to much younger detectives. Scores of like-minded consumers fill stores everyday to understand what can be unleashed in this blend of formidable red grapes. With no penchant for modesty, Zinfandel, Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah, Petit Verdot, Charbono, Grenache and Malbec indicate why since 2003, it’s been such a long-term success. Even after handing over The Prisoner and “Saldo” rights to Hunneus vineyards, they still remain a flagship for Phinney; his other reds, including “Mercury Head” Cab and the recent release of the 2008 “Papillon,” have been of more partial interest; that is, until buyers discover their true bounty. More or less, they have developed higher price tags, but remind yourself though, that “Palermo” Cab, the “D66” Grenache and their “Veladora” Sauvignon Blanc all commit to affordability.

Not bad for someone who originally earned a degree in Poly-Sci from Arizona university and wound up studying something with bit more risk. Which is the funniest thing, because like a lot of breakthrough vintners, it seems like law school was a burden for Phinney and those who now stress fermentation over litigation. There’s no contest, considering that it’s not difficult to see why the allure of winemaking is so prevalent through Orin Swift; a brand, if you can call it that, compounded in the middle and maiden names of Dave’s own parents. Whether he found inspiration from a college roommate, worked for Mondavi, or participated in the modus of ‘Opus,‘ the clarity of opulence seen in this small, but illustrious wine portfolio is quite remarkable. Although, as of late, the personality behind that imprisoned caricature I mentioned earlier, seems to be shackled in compliance, since those reeling from “Quintessa” fame have led it into submissive austerity. Still, most cannot believe that one of the most popular blends to date, is actually a collaborative project now.

I would say we’re waiting for “The Liberator” but he just doesn’t sound cool enough.

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us online @: westchesterwine.com

Chocolate Eruption.

2011-08-26T09:00:00.000-04:00

Duck Walk Blueberry Port

How is it that our love of chocolate is, by all accounts private or personal, still as plainly misunderstood as the adoration for handcrafted cigars? Let’s get one thing straight, I’m not a smoker, but why is it that this dark, luscious, yet snappy confection, has so much influence on why we use it for innumerable purposes? Some talk shows and cooking docs will explain this by pinpointing some human chemical in the brain that allows us to enjoy it without the expectation of weight gain; or rather, without the guilt of realizing there’s enough hydrogenated fat and cocoa solids in most candybars to kill any species profiled in a NatGeo exposé. What I’m most afraid of, is the idea that you can amalgamate chocolate with just about anything these days, with some results that are far less inspiring than common science has allowed per se, for things like breakthroughs in chemistry, or even advanced podiatry. Boring right? Consequently, there’s every reason to be more interested in something carnal. Here’s a counterpoint though; why above all else, would the common bonbon, or nonpareil benefit from certain “fruit-forward” varietals? The answer is somewhat logical, with the inherit shock administered in small doses.

After touring a housewares dept. earlier this week, I came across a selection of chocolates, which to certain oenophiles, might be somewhat of a new curiosity. It’s no revelation to me, as to why critics might stampede all over the concept of creating chocolate morsels that, if anything, share a certain fidelity with good wine. Though I have to wonder about the “how” aspects in the formation of products like these. Are they hollow? Could it be they’re soaked in some solution that naturally decreases their metric weight? Do these companies utilize firming agents like “calcium-lactate,” or “agar-agar” in the melted counter-folds? Molecular or not, it would be simple-minded of us to think that truffles and bars made from cacao masses were not made to be pared with wines that could be considered “well-rounded, ripe, or something of a fruit-bomb. Call me cocoa-loco, but I think it’s ok some of the time, but not for the entire span of conscious nibbling, scarfing, or sipping.

Toro Albala PX

Here’s the info: Try ruby ports, and if you can get it, a blueberry one. Duck Walk Vineyards will properly oblige you with such a thing. Aside from being pre-fortified in more ways than one, it’s surprisingly civil towards your more experimental “milk-or-nuts” chocolatiers. Some people think there is some benefit to white chocolate too, since it has found a lukewarm camaraderie with white zinfandel; but I remind those interested, that the white stuff is not exactly what you would call pure...and I stress that equally in the latter and the former. A good Pedro Ximenez, is endearing, but sometimes, it creates too much of a racy paring in itself; more so than some of the oozy, truffled cordials that need names like Grand Marnier, and Chambord to create those miniatures of confectionary liquor bottles you've handed-out on Valentine’s day. If you're treats lack potential, “Toro Albala” has a cream sherry that is better slated for caramel infused delicacies and those rich, amber toffees you always seem to forget about. Sure, I’ve heard there’s some chances to be taken with Rhone wines, light merlots and cabs; but as any opinion can be deferred, I state mine by saying that I would not want to experience the rot-gut aftermaths of mixing a potential dessert with 375ml or more, of something potentially viniferous.

I can sooner deflect the appeal of chocolate than to say that it pairs well with wine even in the most general sense. Even beyond measure, if you are in no ways interested in fully absorbing the intellectual side of known grapes, smile, and carry on. There’s certainly nothing wrong, or displeasing about the consistent use of confections to burnish the appeal of the world’s most sophisticated beverage. Notes, or nuance, you’re getting it all, so don’t think I’m trashing the idea that these two indulgences cannot exist in some form of harmony. I would just prefer to see where either of them are going and visit them separately depending on what days I have off from work.

Cacao is tough to contend with, it could benefit from an appellation...

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us online @: westchesterwine.com

Vermouth In Veritas

2011-08-19T10:08:00.001-04:00

Cocchi Vermouth

I’m the last one who tries to dredge-up old curiosities. Some things, I agree, do not need anymore banal representation; or more importantly, any bit of hypertensive nostalgia that currently, our abecedarian youth is rendering into their own representative logo. Strange...because I can’t help but see future classes of pre-grads allowing posthumous pop-imagery to guide them in keeping the future world turning on-axis. I’m being too harsh, because I’m just as guilty for digging-up remembrances of past times, but the prime difference between me and those who are somewhat younger, is that I lend a little bit more exposure to the treasures of my childhood rather than someone else’s. Sure, I had an affinity for those old poster reprints you can still buy during the first week of a freshman college semester, but I know the “Le Chat Noir” and Salvador Dali are long dead; they leave, if anything, a more fatuous legacy now. In more important retrospects, do you remember the old Noilly Prat posters and the hat-conscious lady who smiles with a bourgeois grin for Martini & Rossi? Of course, because she has just as easily become a piece of sustainable Americana. Though the ads were foreign-born, we’ve understood the tangible enjoyments in these type of things; whether it’s communicative art, thirst, or both, these entities have become partially obscured. However, a deeper, much more delicious interest awakens.

What if I said there’s an actual “Indication,” or “Denomination” of origin for Vermouth? Would you believe me? Faithless or not, you now have a sensible means of enjoying one thing that could dispel some age-old uncertainties. It’s not white, dry, or red exactly, but is accurately on the sweet side. “Cocchi” is not the style, but rather, the name of the producer whose resurrection of the drink, is based somewhere within a long-due anniversary; with recipes dating to 1891, questions as to why it has not outdone some obvious competitors, is mysterious enough for anybody. Amber in color, it delivers on some particularly unexpected nuances. Tobacco, chocolate, savory orange and bitter undertones regulate an otherwise sweet profile usually suggested in the Moscato grapes that temper its overall sultriness. Moreover, the varietal is from Asti, which is something unsurprising, considering the lure of Piedmont’s most notable “frizzante” sparkler. Would I call it a dessert wine ? No, please do not think of it as a “dessertif” either. Still, I might give off a certain air of pretension for saying it, but, above all, I, and the people who live in Torino Italy, would be furious if it was viewed as something of an after-dinner plaything. Practically speaking, it has a slight “Amaro” style finish, but the unholy labeling of it as a “digestivo” could be equally baffling. Credit to those who enjoy it on their own terms, regardless of naming.

Aperol Bitters

The Cocchi brand mainly dwells in a golden-colored Apertivo that arrived in the U.S. as of late, but as “Americano” is significantly more quenching than anticipated, we can see where this is all going. The recent arrival of “Aperol” and other overseas breakthroughs, are crashing though North America’s ice cube barrier; ideally, some interesting stuff is being poured into the tube glasses of younger, but mostly unsuspecting contemporaries. To become obsessed by spritzy, liquor-driven concoctions of Prosecco and much sweeter tidbits, is nothing recent, but I would bank on the success of the resurgent Vermouth.

One relief, more or less, is knowing that our next of kin may actually see the appeal in the ancestral mention of “Manhattans” and someone aptly called, “Rob Roy.” I have good feelings about the future of re-occurring drinkables, but the driving force behind them, are nothing but fashionable ideas in the poorest of virtues. I’ve been eagerly informed that sweets, or bitters still do not account for the most popular agents used to make a cocktail. These days, the mischievous aspects of my ‘palate-to-brain’ function of thought, have me wondering what the problem would be in using something lawfully designated, but still twisting beyond some realm of time-honored craftsmanship and popularity.

Let’s make a compulsory gesture to the good future of Vermouth.

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us online @: westchesterwine.com

The College Try.

2011-08-12T10:03:00.003-04:00

Secateurs Red

The doldrums of inexpensive juice is something that generates a bit of personal remorse for many people. For whatever’s sake, a much more thrifty purchase generally means that you would be better off going to your local beer monger to have your growlers refilled. That’s the the most interesting predicament though, don’t you think ? Somehow, I believe it would not be advisable to detract from my father’s advice and buy wine when all one person has, is that “beer pocket” of which he always so passionately inferred. Now, believe it or not, I was once a college student, and I did not have any particular taste in beer or liquor; something else, that is equally unbelievable. However, what I did have, was a summer job that somehow paid for many indulgent weekends. Red or white, it didn’t matter. If the price was right, I could expect to be overcome with cross-sections of proper nuance and lukewarm haziness at best. Which is not to say there is really any room for comparison to my former peers, especially when they were caught bogarting cases of “Schlitz” every so often. I question the appeal of twenty-four helpings of any canned product, but something seems overly self-gratifying in the ‘lug-and-chug’ aspect of popular drinking; consequently so, since it has been this way for the past hundred years. Looking back, I think the rarest form that most people remember being accustomed to, can be represented in enjoying something worthwhile; that is, while not cashing-in your childhood savings bonds in return.

Some people snort at the idea of jugs and “Tetra-Paks” being the embodiment of “value” in popularized wine. However, this is only true to an extent, since most 3-to-4 liter varieties are actually ideal for poaching many different styles of ribs and other proteins. Oh, and those elongated “aseptic” containers ? Yes, they have their place in enviro-friendly markets, while scaling-down the idea that you can’t pour a soft, drinkable product out of a box that’s a polyblend of aluminum and plastic. Despite anyone’s illusions about inexpensive wine, artisans from across the pond are still churning-out affordable juice in glass bottles. Lucky times for those twenty-one and over, because it seems that access to those imprecisely named “College Wines” has increased along with some more accurate definitions.

One piece of advice I give to anyone with a legal ID, is that countries like Portugal, Chile, Argentina and South Africa practically have younger interests in check. It may not be the most direct sphere of influence, but if more virile, ladder-climbing minds want to enjoy the perks of contemporary winemaking, these Nations are showcasing a sense of optimism that only exists in youth. Granted, the old ideals are there, but it takes some understanding to recognize that wineries want money; of course, but your chief responsibility is finding the one that is going to entertain your palate for the least amount of money. That’s why I always say to college students, “Think Portuguese.” I know, it sounds like a poorly generated tagline for the country’s travel bureau, but it’s true. Portugal has been keeping up in recent years with the allure of technology, but their winemaking prowess is still measured in an old-world sense of stamina. The country tends to make pure, expertly crafted wine, but the lack of advert-marketing has kept prices low and knowledgeable drinkers from breaking their credit lines. Sure, you may have never experienced a “Tinta Roriz” or a “Touriga Nacional” before, but there’s no reason to let mystery shroud the appeal. Campolargo’s 2005 Bairrada Estate, has a blend of Tinta Roriz, Syrah and Merlot for right around $12. It’s fruit formidable with a depth and focus that is nearly a candidate for a $15 tag. “Aragones, Trincadeira, Alfrocheiro” and “Castelao” grapes find their way through Monte Das Anforas‘ regional “Alentejano,” a 2008 vintage which brings you red fruits, dark confits and so on, for a miserly eight dollars.

Monte Das Anforas

But what about South Africa? No worry, they have been on a westerly campaign towards America to bring academic achievers phenomenal wine for what seems like meager returns. Unlike Portugal, South Africa has been pushing gratuitously towards influencing would-be dissenters into lifelong customers. Research and advertising isn’t something new, considering that as of 2010, more than 3,500 primary producers have been earning their fair share of profits and the general publicities. If numbers are essential, does $14.99 any thoughts? When I tell you there’s a French style red that lasts for three days or more when re-capped, does that equate any value? Of course it does, since Badenhorst Vineyards uses principle Rhone grapes and a little Cabernet Sauvignon in their 2009 “Secateurs Red” to deliver smacks of fruit, chocolate mineral, and yes, savings. For all my time and patience, it can justify enough pleasure to last for an entire weekend...that’s incredible. Maybe not for everyone, since the hardest thing to face when talking about countries, college and wine, is not how long your bottle will last, but how to keep everyone else from drinking it.

Sure, I could have mentioned the countries of South America, but the popularity of the continent’s wine trade is pretty substantial. I tend to use up very little energy when I talk about their exports to students or graduates alike. Sure, you can safeguard your educational allowances especially with Argentinian fare, but Malbec is probably too popular now for younger, more intuitive minds. Funny, It doesn’t always boil down to what country is producing the cheapest, or rather, what a scholar can achieve when experimenting with varietals, but there’s plenty of reasons to forgo nights of beery excesses and boozy regrets with plummy cultivars. Somehow, some way, we look upon the proceeding generations to understand something beyond GPA’s PBR’s and MGD’s.

I also remember my father saying, “Always spend money on something you like.”

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us online @: westchesterwine.com

Greek To Me, But Not Everyone.

2011-08-04T19:33:00.004-04:00

Skouras Agiorghitiko

I'm a Greek by every means, but maybe without a say in the sure-free doxy of things. Some have stared conspicuously at me with a fixed gaze, especially when digressive explanations about my Irish first name come into play. I don't mind it so much, but most people seem impressed about how I've handled this lifelong imbroglio of mine. Granted, language is the premiere sign of any culture, and yet, I am soon indebted to learn my own ethnic lexicon. So far, I can only recall sparse proverbs and maxims that are somewhat useful. If things weren't bad enough, I often say in some imprecise representation of self-parody: "Eimai Xelona!" Which may sound like a Peloponnesian battle cry, but in a cruel reality, it means, "I'm a Turtle." Now, I can guarantee this is not so, but it gives you an idea as to the outright shame I've encountered. However, I like to amuse my own mentality by talking about the stuff that makes perfect sense. "Tiropita Alonissos" anyone ? Maybe you would like a couple of "Keftedes," or some "Hirino me Kythonia?" I would think so, because I've made this symbolic Grecian fare many-a-time, and I can spin-out any one of these common specialties very easily. I've got the best "Gigandes" around, so if you have some drinkable Retsina at hand, I'm extending to you a sheer welcome on the part of my ancestries. Still, the culinary and linguistic expositions that I have, or will undertake, would not be complete without the proper libations; some of which, involve formidable winemaking that's more than "quaffable" for any of my family members.

Athiri, Robola, Agiorghitiko and Moschofilero...sorry to begin things this way, but your tongue is going to whirl in rhapsody a couple more times before you understand Greek wine. It is by reason, one of the most misinterpreted disciplines in European viticulture and continues to leave us with an outer-dimensional, yet feeble curiosity that you would only find in old astronomical texts. That's fine, but give-in to its mysterious grace for once, and discover that there's more to our craft than just simple mispronunciation. Again, I stress about the casual things in life and I promote moderation as the key point in everything; but as any psychologist will tell you, their job becomes more complex when we sew the intricacies of human understanding. So if anything, the need to follow my advice is somewhat applicable. I know the grapes very well, but I can tell you, there's nothing too intricate about these long-lived cultivars.

Take "Athiri" for example; a dry, crisp white that can actually pair well with lamb dishes. Maybe not a "kid lamb" but something of a full-grown, sinewy, but mature cut of anatomy that's been pole-roasted by humans with sore shoulders and tired, smoke-filled eyes. It's a lot of work for the food, but the wine shows remarkable restraint in terms of fruit and alcohol. Pithy lemon and gorgeous indications of terrain make these whites suitable for hot summer days where the meat is served hot and the mezedes are at imperatively lower temperatures. “Robola” is another focal point, insofar as the peachiness and smoky qualities will abide. It shows a remarkably dry palate, but with a fruitier edge than its more loamy brethren. In some of the lightly praised indigenous pork dishes, it’s more than anyone can ask for. “Moschofilero” is one that is not entrenched in normalcy though, considering the appeal of its aromatics alone. Given the white’s adaptability in becoming a food wine, or a distinct aperitif, it’s abundantly clear that it has perfumed, almost spicy characteristics that show favorably well before, or, after your aunt Tula’s orange cake. One thing I didn’t mention though, was the infamous “Retsina” which, if you gather, has a piney, citric disposition that’s tantamount to a good meatball. It’s the quintessential Taverna-side house wine that has probably bred the most unconsciousness about Greek viticulture. Sometimes sold in unforgiving quantities, it’s a nominal ingredient for sauteed paddlefish. Resinous maybe, cheap ? Yes...but if you need it, the stuff is indispensable.

Boutari Moschofilero

The reds are not limited to Merlot, Cabernet and now, even Pinot Noir, but the one varietal that has earned a more stable relationship with your common epicurean is, “Agiorghitiko.” Which, if interest beckons, you have a gorgeous, equilibrium of weight that leans on a pretense of blackberries and spheroids of mixed red fruit. Some critics could sagaciously remark on its light, easygoing profile, but even on the lesser end, it’s an underdressed cameo for proteins that are strictly bone-in and braised beyond expertise. I wouldn’t go praising something like “Mavrodaphne” too soon if you have some Arni Souvlaki on spit, but if you’re looking to spend some downtime on the curtails of this sweeter, more lascivious variety, be prepared for candied fruit and chocoholic clairvoyance.

I wouldn’t deter anyone from some of the garnet-robed specialties, but the impasse I experienced when learning of the market’s heavy concentration on whites, was something of a surprise. There are more grapes of either hue, or brilliance to discover; however, despite color, taste, or any concepts involving its availability, the enjoyment of Greek wines are somewhat deadlocked. The comforts of this mediterranean craft do not appear viable enough for consumers and notarizing gurus to offer up any realistic dialogical stimuli whatsoever. My thoughts retract and retrace between my own understanding of a foreign language and the people who should be using words to translate something that’s been mysteriously vinous, but always exceptional.

Seems like we’ve all been lax in the Alpha and Omega of things.

Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com

Implacable Sangria

2011-07-26T18:12:00.002-04:00

Mathilde Cassis

Any dullard can make a drink…can certain monotonies create a “mock-tail?” Do
you see what I mean here? If you don’t, then consider how our cache for
everything labeled “Tini” has been operating as a benign and unruly suffix.
There’s something unfortunate about that, but equally unnerving, is the
complacency to which Sangria can be subjected; which, more or less, is an
indicator that our instinct for epiphanies are nothing but make-believe
excursions to a cooler, more tropical hideaway. I have been consistently
fearful that most people know what this ancient hodgepodge usually is, but
do not focus their thoughts beyond the Jeopardy episodes where it pops-up
twice per annum. Maybe this is me foreshadowing, but you should save your
guessing strategies for the “Daily Doubles” and conclude your risk-taking
with answering the simple questions; or else, a bowing-out strategy, rather
than winning, is all that‘s foreseeable. Funny how these things relate to
wine and spirits…but if you want me to expand, the truth behind the world’s
most misunderstood cocktail, is a lesson in thoughtful simplicity and not
some run-with-gun venture into a more wild and vivid spectacle.

Yes, heed what I say...it's no more than a routine cocktail. That’s
the second trivial iota that no one seems to get. That in fact, the
red-blooded, high maintenance, metro-sexual libation is, in the total sum things,
a historic mixer. The theories as to the chronological pretext of the drink is usually
uninteresting and mostly unfounded, but there’s some odd beliefs as to its
conception; usually, attempts to unearth the cornerstones of its legacy, have
only created further bastardizations. Those who crack wise, may tell you
with a hearty, guttural New York accent that its formative years found solace
in Flushing, Queens; where at the 1964-65 World’s Fair, it was ready to become
a standard fixture that would eventually replace “Pico de Gallo” as
the most iconic, yet conveniently misunderstood ethnic specialty. Others will tell you
that "Mulled Wine, Glug, Glogg, Gluwein, Kalimotxo, Rioja Libre and Black
Vulture" are all variants of Sangria in some way, and that all cultures,
first or foremost, have partook in the logical cause of introducing wine to
a pantry of workable extras. This has been going on for eons perhaps,
since everything seems to have been made by accident anyway; including
perchance, our discovery of fermentation. Dry spices, fresh fruit, and
other types of alcohol are certainly the most agreeable products
involved in any sort of culinary amalgamation, so if anything, one
could say that we share a sanguine trait with a drink that literally
translates to: "bleeding," or "bloody." At the least, it's what I've
been encouraged to understand.

Ok, you know me by now, since I’ve preached well beyond my boundarie
about the practical usages of liqueurs and spirits. Withstanding the
criticisms, I'm going to tell you that Triple-Sec isn't needed, and
the utilization of flavored Brandies, are in simile, like an
unremorseful middlemen handling the business end of Sangria's fruit
trade. Also, there's no reason to go plucking for peaches, apricots, strawberries, blues,
reds and other inglorious halves and quarters that will develop into nothing but an
inebriating soup for the parched.

Pama Pomegranate

There's a reason why people talk so much about apples and
oranges, because they are the only plausible things that will fortify
the contents of a glass pitcher. Step one, find a reasonable bottle of
Pinot Noir and use its medium-bodied nature to let all the necessary
infusions commit to a great drink...use a Sauvignon Blanc if you're
pining for the Blanco version. Two, purchase some blood-oranges,
"fuji, granny smith," or "honeycrisp" apples and proceed with a little
more confidence than before. I stress the importance of adding the
fruits the night before and following through the next afternoon with
a few delicate sundries. You may think I've wasted my time with
minimalistic gestures for saying this, but some lightly pressed green
cardamom pods can really upend the scowl of your local
gormandize...add them to the base of well-oriented punch. You can add
some liqueur to taste; usually, "Mathilde framboise, creme de cassis,"
or "Pama's pomegranate cordial" are sufficient, but do not go
overboard. If sweetness is an issue, add honey, and for whoever's
sake, don't use refined sugars, or you'll have the same downtrodden
look that you wore when discovering that plain iced tea did not
deserve two of those little white packets.

Speaking of sugar, save your mason jars for that, and don't keep your
sangria lying around like some brooding specimen. I doubt anyone,
including yourself, would want to see a blend of pears, peaches,
raspberries, lime soda, champagne and orange concentrate floating
around like random anatomies soaking in formalin. Sangria is best at
its freshest, so don't even bother with unconsciously satirizing
everyone's mistakes. Again, I plead with whatever sense of scrutiny
that even if you're making mulled wine, there's few things you need to
accomplish the feat. A heavy pot, some cinnamon, apples, cloves honey
and a hearty Claret is a great winter icebreaker. Honestly, don't make
things awkward by inviting 'Auntie Schnapps' for who you very well
know, has a soulful and timeless banter that becomes more peppered
every year.

Relatives or not, objects and wine make party favors, but not favorable parties.

-Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us online @: westchesterwine.com

New-World-Old-World and Other Contractions

2011-07-18T10:43:00.000-04:00

Di Giulio Cab

I'm the poetic type...so what ? Regardless, I often abridge even myself even in the continuity of all things communicative. Do you see? I'm just as eagerly doing it now. Maybe I am somewhat lovelorn in the presence of good verse these days, but if all literary outlets become loathsome in the end, I guess I'll keep reading something else. It's a keen bet that modern poetry is incapable of creating systemic revolutions, but when authors still romanticize about "How to Light a Cigarette" or, build their stanzas through email subject lines, my prefrontal cortex erupts with brain lava; from then-on, I generate something a bit more unsettling through my own choice of words. Really, I begin to wonder if there's enough clout to this idea of "Modernism" when it refers to anything of human construct. Some say, this timely aesthetic is nothing but an unorganized mapping of the last hundred years of human development...I'm given to wonder about that. The better word might be "Contemporary" because it relates to the immediate present. Granted, I have an awful lot of sentiment to recall when mentioning something antiquated, or historically obscure, but compare something artful then, with something of the same ilk today. Do you see a big difference? Maybe this is why most people shuffle their thoughts from inbox-to-outbox when I dribble about popular winemaking versus the unfashionable, geriatric kind. In that respect, not even the glowing consciousness of our youth, seems to have enough curiosity to fully understand the old-world methods and tribulations needed to create something genuine. Which is why, if I could traverse through time and space, the one invention that I could have long-since obliterated, would have been the "Easy-Bake Oven." Not because it's iconic, but for the argument that it may have promoted the dynamism behind American laziness and insatiability. Fortunately, good wine is never a bastion for remorseful treats; insofar, that you have actually done some of your homework. Still, the "Good Ol' Stuff" that competes with the brand-new, impulsively bought, but we don't know why kinda stuff,” appears stalemated in the battle of values. Vintners seem to know what they're doing on either side, but is there a better choice between one or the other ? When in doubt, do we just digress and purchase either bottle? The end of countless queries about being choosy, rests on the definitions that describe what "New-World" and "Old-World" means in terms of overall flavor, profile, nuance and our final impressions.

Most will wince when I say, "This is old-world winemaking," because it's an eidetic run of the mind that recalls a butchery of bad images. Realistically, consumers see these products as bloody, gamy and sinewy; having if possible, a considerable presence of earthiness, tannins and acidity. In fact, some people scowl when I mention "New-World" wine because they've familiarized themselves with a product that unleashes more fruit than a produce lab. I won't account for this ideal as being true or false, but what I could often conclude, is that there's a stark form of opposites to winemaking methods from past to present. Some feel that the olden style of winemaking, shows a little more finesse of fruit, and can generally have more earthen aspects. They have a immutable sense of terroir, given the fact that overseas vineyards have existed for quite some time. Coveted soils and centenarian rootstocks act as the elemental viaducts that most upstart wine regions haven‘t been privileged to. That is of course, not always the defining factor, but some of the vines range from a couple years in age, to something that mocks a traditional human lifespan; usually, 40-to-120 is considered “acceptable” for those "older vines." Basically, aged roots enhance tactile experiences with minerals, a more focused presence of fruit and just about everything else that a good vintner will diligently impress upon you; yes, earthiness and tannin do make way. Too true, but people seem to clamor over a wide variety of wines from the nouveau monde, being that they show an intensity and purity of fruit significantly different than what much older appellations have. In America, we're a bit more patriotic towards creating something phenolic; maybe that's just the theme of western methodology, but even on the reverse, we tend to revel in the pursuit of science, commerce and the embodiment of ripeness. With alot of merit, wine-tech has a fortunate way of delivering to us, approachable, reasonably-priced reds and whites; saying the most, these have a bull’s-eye penchant for steak-a-thons and lobster-socials.

Let's see...If I could describe any situation where this "supposed" intensity of fruit occurred, it would be with a Cabermet that is a bit pricey, but always a good nominate for the delicious idolatry of post-European

Z-T Pic ST. Loup

winemaking. Marco Di Giulio has a interesting proprietary Cab that outshines some of the high-yield, well-marketed reds that have loomed over the Cali wine trade since...forever. It is by every means, multi-dimensional, but the draw lies not in tannin, but a girth of fruit, burnt cedar, cured meat and one of the most profound underpinnings of glycerin; a.k.a, sugar and alcohol. From its $77 dollar tag, you can taste the generosity of which, only the United States could be capable. In counterpoint, you could very well say, that the Coteaux Du Languedoc has all we want in a humble, more price-friendly style that eschews the conventional rusticity; maybe, something like a Montepuliciano from Abrruzzi. I wouldn't go that far to remark upon their similarities, because there are not too many…I'm just emphasizing a point. I like the Domaine Zumbaum-Tomasi as my Pic St. Loup, due to its assertive, but not ever-present tannins and the equality of darker, but also, more carmine-colored fruits. Woodland herbs and some traces of nut oils are by some stretch, a realization of forgotten, or at least reassuring notions of nuance from eras past. An Andrew Jackson and three Washingtons’ or so, will get you there. In lieu, my time and my pelf are at least, gateways for reasonable, provocative wine.

To be honest, it's not the money, or some altercation between steaks and sizzles, but there are if anything, much more choices now. The nature of winemaking seems not ruled by classic distinctions all the time, but also newly appointed practices that are somewhat redefined by human evolution and the suitable technologies. I will not say if the newborns, or the olds are either of my favorites, because there are no reasonable milestones to mark any one of them as "better." I tend to think about this at the risk of being overwhelmed, but the truth behind the game, is to find out who is doing what, why it's interesting and whose tastes are victim to certain coercions.

I don't know why, but our palate has been talking about us for some time.

-Brian K. Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us online @: westchesterwine.com

Cocktails For The Lovéd

2011-07-10T11:06:00.004-04:00

Absolut Açai Berry

You’re a nominal party-going individual aren’t you ? If not, would it be wrong to call someone a warrior because they spend the weekends tempestuously flicking tiny parasols out of their glass? Nope, because we work by tremendous pace all week and the one thing that separates us from the uncertainties of barstool infrastructure, are good household elixirs. Now, before I bilge upon any specifics, I have a interesting real-world case study on one particular individual whose luck, that is to say, was of lesser abundance if you could take his trustworthy nature into account. To keep it simple, “Bobnick,” as I have decidedly called him, was somewhere between six or seven years of age and had virtually no understanding of the horrid amalgamations of which blender is capable. Cycling back through my memories, I recall a cruel porridge of bananas, pop-rocks, club soda, dried onion, Tabasco, A1, P, B, J, Ka-Boom Cereal marshmallows and various sprinklings of pork products both cooked, or uncooked. Without question to the taste, color, or sincere lack of artistry, the palate-profile of this mixture has been left strictly unrecorded. Bobnick, whose blue-eyed, unfrowning countenance---of well-bridged, rosy cheekbones---lovingly lifted this sordid punch promptly to his mouth with two hands and gulped it back with an expression shrouded by a wide glass pitcher. In the meantime, his brother and teenage counterpart laughingly exchanged several exclamations. However, this gaggle of untimely hazing rites and boyish hollering could not drown the devilish hurls and spits that ensued as poor Bobnick roared with a brand of anger and sickness unbecoming to an adolescent. The foul drink was promptly named “Crud” which stigmatized the poor boy even further; because now, this title adhered to Bobnick who, like all of us, are constituted by what we ingest. Therefore, he was no longer treated to his own namesake, but always referred to as the one thing he probably loathed the most.

Somewhere, at some point, I heard he became a successful bartender. That is not to say by contrast, we

Absolut Mango

should beware of all persons with a knack for concoctions, but you should really question anyone who acts as a dispensary agent. I would say it is mandatory once in awhile, to realize the potential of cocktails from loved-ones; yes, a drink with a hearth-driven quality that you can ensure has no bouillon, or the flotillas of bacon therein. In production, I don’t necessarily recommend a brother, sister, or an optimistically comical uncle, but maybe your spouse will do just fine. I speak from experience, but I am not offering marital advice. Honestly, this is not some half-serious attempt at rekindling the firebrand nature of couples rejoicing through their unsobering nightlife. This is by far, the chance to release oneself from the burden of soapy, earthy, diluted, or otherwise boring mixers.

The one love that I would stake all my afterlives upon, is actually a damn-fine mixologist. She, unlike a post-grad tender of drinks, has an impassioned view of a discipline that’s never outshined by extracurricular drinking. One of her homemade pleasantries are something of a hazy azure, mottled by shades of lavender and several pinks. I’m only referring to what I have so aptly called a “Huckleberry Hatskein” which, if you’ve thought it out carefully, is like wearing a make-believe chapeau dotted with blueberries. Of course, I see no difference between the two bluish fruits, you must understand now what I‘ve done here. The process is simple: Combine one pint of blueberries, a proportioned volume of lemonade and any reasonable parts of Absolut Mango Vodka. Secondly, transfer to a food processor, or blender, then purée the mixture and strain twice through a metal sieve, emptying the final contents into a glass pitcher. Let it stand refrigerated for twenty-to-thirty minutes and if desired, add more lemonade if mixture is too strong. Serve over ice and watch tacos entrenched in Piscean marvels and jalapeno slaws course through the gastronomical byways. I realize that the effect of a mango may have lost some application; but if you’re miffed about it, there’s always a fresher fruit around, so start picking elsewhere.

You could always use Açai berry vodka from Absolut as well, which could host a tart, but juicier exposition than common fruits d’azur, but that’s an idea I’ll leave to an open forum; more notably, this lonely blogsite. What I would recommend, is not being a slapdash chemist in the middle of an unimaginative summer. There’s a whole lot of booze to experiment with, so much in fact, that you couldn’t possibly recreate the same whimsies and joys by tampering with white wine. Or, like ascribing from what the martyr “Bobnick” has told us, have someone you really, truly, amiably love so much, to make refreshments that won’t leave you with painful recollections, or the burden of a passing ruse.

My fiancé is always thinking of me...she starts by pouring heartfelt thoughts into every glass.

-Brian K. Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us online @: westchesterwine.com

Campaign For Cannonau

2011-07-03T10:36:00.000-04:00

Picco Del Sole

It’s a health thing right ? Regimenting, dieting, whatever the accursed terms may imply, there’s more than a fair percentage of people who treat wine as supplementary; but really, this kind of consumable is mandated for dining of course, but I often gnash my teeth with a sort of angry smile when thinking about all the wrong reasons we “toast” to someone’s betterment. Does it actually pertain to longevity? Some would say yes, but beyond the rude averages of alcohol percentage, is there room for something beneficial? I tend to owe a great deal of satire to many people whose ‘wining introspections’ are creating a thinning effect on their mind, body and soul. Wallet stuffings aren’t as generously refilled anymore as they used to be, so there’s a deeper problem with that too. But the fiduciary interests of the filled glass and the casually-minded sipping experts are not part of my chief concerns. More or less, what I do want to know, from being unduly skeptical, is whether or not this unaccredited ‘Wine-Your-Way Healthy” program is actually working for many Americans. More than ever, I quietly wonder if this is another pseudo-dietary health obsession, or an unorthodox, unconsciously optimistic flash-pan dynasty for serious drinkers. I’ll leave our dealings with Sgt. Swagger and Gen. Tipsy up to the U.S. government, but domestic consumers must understand the modesty and the advice required to fully experience what Sardinians have enjoyed for centuries.

I couldn’t be more emphatic in my use of “century” when Cannonau is on the table. Thanks to the grape and its payload of resveratrol, there’s ¾quite literally¾a heartfelt suggestion that many locals from Sardegna have been hiding a mysterious wine font; one mainly, that prevents human beings from experiencing the effects of aging. Civilians who hail from the island are not necessarily druidical in their secrecies, but some of them tend to live until their centenary years…amazing. Is it a particularly clandestine winemaking skill ? Maybe so, considering they’re dealing with a varietal that has nothing but good promise for cardiovascular health and the pulmonary system. Despite their wine health, I think the lighter, feathersome quality to some of their applicable foodstuffs also illustrates a lifestyle that most of us should observe. Hey look ! more fish, more phenols, and etcetera… it’s probably a good start, that is, once we eliminate the “parmigiano” and “panini” factor from the overall practice of domestic gluttony. Yes my friend, wine is in the glass, but the meat is on skewers, and the pasta ? It comes and goes depending on the condimenti. So in lieu, there’s nothing too special to remark about this lone grape right?

I do not think so, because even as science can be hypothetical at times, there’s obviously something about Cannonau that goes beyond Bottarga and Fava Beans. With a history routed somewhere between Spain and its Garnacha vines, an exact DNA match-up is still hotly debated. Sounds fun more or less, because militant occupation of Sardinia was not altogether dismissed by the Spanish crown during the 15th century; seriously, do you really think they were about to showcase Tempranillo? Regardless, I have an intolerable interest for conquests of yore, past imperialisms and fruity reds…I think see a correlation forming here. Yes! show me a vintage that boasts of sparring fruits, but does not appear sappy in front of the commanding office of one’s

Argiolas Blend

palate. You could offer me a bold Grenache, but all I want is something to compliment a well-prepared, but crudely dressed stew of legumes and sausage. An accord between Cannelleni bean soup and the “2008 Picco Del Sole” would justify the red’s lean, fruit-tempered profile; ideally so, because I can’t imagine a “Super Tuscan” being the end-all choice for complimenting your starches.“Argiolas Costera” has a similar point of interest, with a five-percent splash of “Carignano” and “Bovale Sardo” to round-out an otherwise imposing, full-bodied remainder of Cannonau. For this, I have to hop completely off the bean wagon, but I would advise hungry buyers to pull off a “Manzo Alla Pizzaiola” in their kitchen. Trust me, it’s not some atypical high-wire trick for circus folk, but it’s a damn fine entrée for the culinary-minded.

My only gripe is, the lack of finding an organic and equally biodynamic vineyard that will strengthen the appeal of this wonderful cultivar. I have heard good things about Tannat, Cabernet and many other grapes which would contribute to our well-being, but I have to wonder why this island varietal is by far, the strongest medicine in the minds of oenologists everywhere. Unlike the study of astronomy, enological science is not based in assumption, but actually provides evidence that could answer an age-old conflict: “Can wine actually be good for you?” Yes, but in remembrance of the ancient Greco-Roman proverb: “Everything in moderation,” one could follow a more righteous aesthetic. Still, I continue to search for niceties that are exotic and indigenous, but as it is in most ethnic climates, at best, two glasses with dinner are all you need tonight.

I’m not a medical practitioner, but I feel confident in my prescriptions.

-Brian K. Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us online @: westchesterwine.com

Necessary Cognac.

2011-06-24T10:55:00.000-04:00

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