A Remembrance of Wines Past

The History Held in a Glass

Proust had his Madeleine, but I believe in the power of wine to make people recollect times past. I love stories, and one of the most rewarding parts of my job is getting to hear from my clients about how they enjoy—and remember—wine.

Recently I heard a story that was too sweet not to bear retelling. My client’s wife surprised him with a trip to the Rhone region in France for their twenty-third anniversary and two specific spots they had previously visited during trips long ago. One of them, in a tiny village called Poet-Laval (about 45 minutes north of Gigondas), they had visited on the recommendation of Gerard Jaboulet, a legendary winemaker in the region. They returned to Les Hospitalieres, the inn they had previously visited, and the place is almost the same, though now it’s under the management of the son of the man who had run it when they’d first visited. The first night my client couldn’t resist ordering a great Rhone, the ’89 Chave Hermitage rouge, at the silly price of 150 Euros. The second night he had a tough time deciding between the 1975 and 1979 Tempier rouge, a Bandol, and he finally decided to go with the ’75 at the even sillier price of 46 Euros.

While waiting for the red to arrive, my client’s wife pulled out there trip journal from twenty-three years ago. Lo and behold, he had ordered the same exact bottle of 1975 Tempier when they were there before! When the wine came, it was very different from the first time they drank it, but it nevertheless displayed grace and beauty. Naturally, my client and his wife had many new reasons to fall in love with this wine that was still full of life with many more years to develop. My client told me that upon discovering that he and his wife had been enjoying the same wine all over again, he made the owner take him down to the cellar, where they discovered that the inn still had nine bottles remaining, and thus nine more years to re-experience that long-ago first trip once more.

I think my client was telling me this story because it was such crazy coincidence; however, I took a bit more from it. The strong connection to this inn, to one another and to twenty-three years shared was embodied in this one wine. Hearing this story made me think that while time changes us, we can continually find passion and love in the same things, places and people. Lives develop over time—and of course things never stay the same—but there can be some beautifully evolving constants.

I walked away from my conversation with my client with a desire to cellar some significant bottles so that I too can rediscover the new in the old, all while reflecting on what has come to pass.

All the Flavors of the Rainbow

The Full Spectrum of Wine Descriptions

A picture may be worth a thousand words, but there are a million ways to describe a wine. Some people grow ebullient at the prospect, while others are terrified and go silent. Some people like to use creative descriptors and liken wines to mythical beasts, cavorting nymphs and rushing streams; however, others are very analytical, empirical and mathematical. Some people use their knowledge as a weapon, but others use it to inspire their tasting partners. There are certainly those we wish would never be allowed to speak at all, and there are those from whom we cannot hear enough. As with most people who enjoy observing complex disciplines, I have noticed that people who ask a lot of questions have more thoughtful opinions than those who offer unsolicited opinions.

This descriptive phenomenon isn’t limited to average wine-drinking Joes. Even among professionals there are totally different approaches, many of which are very surprising given their espousers’ positions. For example, I remember a Chicago tasting with a group of great sommeliers that included Fred Dame, head of the American Court of Master Sommeliers. I was expecting a soft, very scholarly approach from this gentleman famous for his subtle reverence for fine wine producing regions. And yet, Dame was bold, humorous and deliciously opinionated. On the other hand, I went to hear the prolific writer and respected Burgundian authority Clive Coates lead a tasting of some of Becky Wasserman’s Burgundies. Mr. Coates showed a scientific, almost laser-like precision in breaking down the wines. He spoke only about the amount of acididty, the presence of wood, and the earthly components. He never used relative descriptors—only permanent ones. I couldn’t help but wonder, “Where was the personality? Where was the hyperbole?” This was Burgundy, not a crime scene.

I have come to realize that the manner in which we speak about wine is very telling of who we are as people. Perhaps the best example of this connection between descriptors and personhood is my old friend Jim Clendenen from Au Bon Climat. Jim has long blonde hair and has a fondness for comfortable surfer shirts. His laid-back demeanor and dress communicate one idea. Then he starts to describe a wine, and it immediately becomes self evident that he is brilliant. Jim has a gift of explaining technical subjects in a manner that is friendly and informative, never condescending. He blind tastes as well as any MS or MW I have sat with, yet he still conveys a pure joy about the experience, like a novice sitting at their first Old Barolo tasting. I suspect this joy is much the manner with which Jim approaches each day.

The ways we describe wine—whether clinical, prosaic, poetic or hyperbolic—may not be the window to our souls, but these words might show others how self confident, how secure and how kind we are. The wine-words we use show what we value, what we enjoy, and how we translate that purely ineffably physical experience into terms that may resonate with other people. And that, as far as I see it, is the whole point of trying to talk about wine at all.

Music and Wine

A match made in heaven, but not in Boston

Recently, quite a few blog posts have discussed pairing specific wines with specific music, sort of along the lines of watching The Wizard of Oz and listening to Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon. There’s even one blog that dedicates itself to exploring the synesthetic relationship between wine and other sense stimulus. Synesthesia, or the crossing of sensory experiences, may seem really sexy—especially when it comes to wine—but I don’t necessarily buy it.

I admit that I don’t know how other people are actually pairing particular songs to particular wines. To me, whatever music or whatever wine you enjoy is what you should be pairing together. I don’t think there’s a particular song for a particular wine or a particular wine for a particular song. I don’t understand that. I like both wine and music, so if I can put on some of my music and drink some wine I enjoy, it’s almost always perfect.

A lot of my beliefs about music and wine go back to many years ago when I was in the bar business. My partner and I got into the business because we were going out a lot in the city and rarely could we find the optimum combination of wine, food and music. So we said, “Hey, if we open up our own wine bar, we could have all our music, and just imagine how great that would be.” Turned out it was pretty great indeed.

All this was so long ago that CDs had just come out—the early ‘80s. We stocked the bar with all our favorite music—Frank Sinatra, Etta James, Ella, all kinds of British Invasion, The Beatles, The Stones, Hendrix, the Allman Brothers, and bands that were new back then like the Cult and U2. Our whole business was about the music. Our belief was that if you have good music on, you enhance the experience. And if you’re enhancing that experience, you’re going to prolong it. Our customers would stay and buy another round of drinks or another bottle of wine just because the music was that great. They stayed, they drank, they listened, they enjoyed themselves, they drank more and they stayed out later than they meant to.

Music helps you enjoy wine. But that’s not the same thing as saying that you need to plan your playlist to match your cellar selection.

I’ve been doing a lot of wine drinking and a lot of music listening for a long, long time, and I don’t get matching the “tonality” of wine to a song’s “tonality.” A beautiful wine can make you experience a song’s moment that much more profoundly. If you’re listening to some really good music and you’re drinking a really good bottle of wine, the wine might taste better at the moment; the music might sound better; but it’s not the Led Zeppelin playing through the sound system. It’s that you enjoyed that moment in time, that combination, that peak experience.

On the other hand, if you’re listening to some really bad music, you can really ruin a bottle of wine. That’s why I never drink and listen to Boston, one of the worst things ever to hit the airwaves. If I was drinking a good bottle of wine and Boston came on, and I couldn’t turn it off, I’d stop drinking the wine. I’d save it for when I could put on some Clapton or some Pearl Jam. Because that’s what I like, and because the point has always been to have good wine and good music.

So don’t worry about matching the Coltrane to the Brunello, or the Stooges to the Super-Tuscan. Give yourself the gift of your own taste—whatever you like to drink and whatever you like to listen to—and the peak experience is going to be there.

Wine Wars

Fun for the whole family (crowd)

This past Saturday evening, a group of friends gathered at my apartment for what we thought would be merely an evening of cheese fondue and wine. The night began in a fairly standard fashion—the opening of wines of varied origins, the streaming of a balanced mix of Frank Sinatra and The Rolling Stones, and the scrambling to find anything that could serve as a chair for the guests. The gruyere and emmental melted together flawlessly as the Tempranillo and Grenache lent their fruit to the experience. Everyone was smiling, laughing and enjoying themselves.

Then Wine Wars appeared.

Wine Wars is, essentially, the oenophile’s version of Trivial Pursuit, a game complete with categories such as Vine to Vino (growing grapes, making wine, and world production), Wine Cellar (selecting, storing, and tasting wine), and Cork Culture (wine people, business, arts and science, and trivia). I have always enjoyed Trivial Pursuit and loved wine, so I was on cloud nine the day my roommate returned from Christmas gripping the Wine Wars box in her hand. In playing, I’ve found that the game is a lot more than just fun—it does a wonderful job of not only boosting the confidence of novices, but also challenging self-proclaimed experts.

We played in teams that had a novice and an expert on each team. The first round was tame; everyone was fairly confident that Pinot Gris and Pinot Grigio were the same grape variety; Bordeaux was a place-named wine (rather than grape-named wine); and that standard wine bottles held 750 milliliters. However, as the game continued, teams spent more and more time deliberating before giving their final answers. Some of us were surprised to learn that the same Tempranillo swirling in our glasses got its name from temprano, meaning “early,” for its young-maturing nature. Others were baffled by the fact that Zinfandel vines are not native to California, but are related to the primitivo grape of Italy. I myself was intrigued to learn that the trade name of the person that makes and repairs barrels or casks is a “cooper.” With every correct answer, we earned small wooden game pieces to add to our mini wine lists. And in the end, only one glass of wine was knocked over in one player’s fit of rage, and a wonderful time was had by all.

The battle piqued my interest in other wine games on the market. A few hours of Google-searching provided one title over and over that is next on my list—Winerd, an interactive board game that incorporates a blind tasting of sorts. But I wonder if I will find other wine games that, like Wine Wars, can suit a crowd with diverse wine backgrounds. Have you found any you like?

Taking Champagne Further Into the New Year

Or : Bubbles All Year Long

While I took ample advantage of the various bubble blow-outs at year’s end, I’ve also not been hesitant to pop corks into the new year. I wanted to take a moment to share with you a few of the more delicious bottles I’ve enjoyed. As you will see, I’ve been on a bit of a grower kick.

André Clouet Silver Grande Réserve Brut Nature NV: lean, mineral and mouthwatering, this no-dosage, 100% Pinot Noir demands food. It’s a serious Champagne that should not be a beginner apéritif wine. Sadly, while I tried to explain that point to my hosts, my explanation was lost on them, even though they are complete wine geeks. One thing to remember about Champagne is this: just because there are bubbles doesn’t mean it comes first! I’ve seen many a complex and full-bodied Grüner Veltliners consumed the same way—even by a table of aficionados. The flute-shaped bottle likely directs those apéritif decisions, but it is an egregious error!

André Clouet Grande Réserve Brut NV: Clouet is in Bouzy where Pinot Noir rules and this wine contains its fair share. I discovered these wines when buying for Spice Market New York and have found every bottle since to be delicious. This bubbly is the more suitable wine simply to open and imbibe.

Georges Gardet Cuvée Saint Flavy NV: containing the trio of classic Champagne grapes (10% Pinot Meunier, 45% Pinot Noir and 45% Chardonnay), this family domaine sources 20% of its juice from its own vineyards. Whiffs of toastiness appear from 20% reserve wines used and 24-month sûr lee aging, but the freshness of the fruit typical in most grower wines dominates.

José Michel Pinot Meunier Brut NV: this Champagne hails from a grower producing 180,000 bottles annually. Pinot Meunier accounts for 45% of their vine holdings, and this wine is a tribute to this variety, which is not often seen on its own. Pinot Meunier provides a nice plumpness on the mid-palate as well as liveliness in the raspberry and rose aromas. Yummy!

Clos Cazal Blanc de Blancs 1995: (Disclaimer: this was a gift I pulled out of my cellar; I’ve not seen this wine in the US.) The first vintage of a very limited production wine from a rare walled vineyard, this wine is definitely mature. While it can hold, I think it’s drinking just fine right now. I’m keen to see how successive vintages are performing.

I hope that you find my continued foray into Champagnes inspiring and that you keep the corks a-poppin’ into 2010. And if you have, I’m curious, what bubblies have you been enjoying (or not)?

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