What Is An Off Year?

A Considered Approach to Vintages

Buying wine is tricky, or at least it can feel that way. There are different regions, styles, varietals, producers and methods to consider. These factors comprise the broad differences between wines. But what about wines made from the same producer but in different years? Or what about buying wines—any wines—from years that broad consensus considers to be difficult? This murky question of vintage is the topic of this post.

When we consider the differences in a wine from one vintage to another, we may find it very difficult to ascertain the actual quality of the wine. We have already addressed in earlier blogs how inaccurate a critic’s perspective may be, and this issue certainly poses a considerable challenge to laypeople. To add to their confusion, there is the reality that wines continue to evolve after they are released. For years the collectible wines like Barolo, First Growth Bordeaux and Grand Cru Burgundy were made with such developed tannic structure that they did not show their true majesty for years, particularly in the great vintages. Indeed in many cases, the vintages that were good to very good provided more immediate drinking satisfaction than those that would later show themselves to be great.

To add further to this confusion about drinkability, there are other external factors that can negatively affect the manner in which a wine is drinking. Delicate wines like Pinot Noir don’t like to travel. They will often go into a “dumb” or “silent” period, and they won’t show their full spectrum of components as they are adjusting to the bumping and jostling from being shipped. Then there are some people who contend that Burgundy and Barolo simply never taste as good as they do in their native land. But aside from all of these various quibbling points, the vintage variation continues to provide its own not inconsiderable challenge. Consumers are taught to look at specific vintages and typically follow that doctrine as though it were gospel. However, at IWM we hold a very different belief: we follow producers, absolutely and religiously.

We know that great winemakers will always make very good wine, even in off years. We also know that in extraordinary years there wines will provide a transcendental experience. We know that while it is helpful to be aware of vintages, it is more important to understand what role producers take in creating a wine. Because we really “get” producers, who they are, what they do, and why they do it, we are not afraid of “off” years. For one thing, we understand that wines from those vintages often provide more immediate satisfaction. We are more concerned with popular producers making consistently high alcohol, fruity, over-oaked wines. Because those are the ones we want to avoid.

To know a producer and to love his or her wine is to choose well—year in and year out.

Diving into Passion: Part 3

Eccentric and exciting masters of wine

The story of Passion on the Vine continues when Sergio decides to leave the restaurant business and begins to fully cultivate his vision and passion for Italian wine (please see part 1 and part 2 and of this series). In his vision, the store would be a high-end boutique of wine with each bottle displayed with its own placard, like its own work of art. The company would educate clients on Italian wine and culture as well as provide security for those who wanted to invest and make collecting high-end Italian wines a reality. By a twist of fate, Sergio runs into an acquaintance, Joseph Bastianich, who then owned a wine bar/restaurant called Becco and a high-end Italian restaurant called Babbo with Mario Batali. Sergio makes the quick decision to become partners with these two men who had a much better understanding of his goals and ambitions, and in October of 1999, Italian Wine Merchants opened its doors to the public.

Of course, opening a wine store in New York City is no easy feat, and this task was made especially difficult due to Sergio’s commitment to stocking the store full of wines that weren’t the mainstream. It was a very stressful period marked by Sergio’s flying back and forth to Italy fifteen times a year to continue scoping out the best possible producers to showcase in his store. The narrative of the memoir now takes the opportunity to highlight some of the greatest producers of Italian wine that Sergio knows as friends, compatriots and, occasionally, adversaries. In reading this portion of his journey, we are all able to experience and begin to understand some very eccentric and exciting masters of wine. I’m going to showcase a few of my favorite moments and producers below:

Paolo Scavino, whose estate is currently run by his son Enrico Scavino, is a pioneer in Piemonte for going against the grain and making Barolo into a modern, technological masterpiece. He was one the first in the region to institute temperature-controlled winemaking and storage facilities, and has led the way with the use of new rotary fermenters and small barrels. He made the biggest leap in 1993, when he decided to switch from Slovenian oak aging to 100% barrique. He is a prime example of what a modern producer has done to make Barolo more accessible and attractive to our current market and shows that Barolo is capable of expressing itself with vigorous vineyard care and less age.

Josko Gravner, however, shows an opposite side of the wine story. He was one of the first producers to experiment with technological advancements and became a mentor to producers who wanted to be skilled in modern winemaking techniques. He rigorously taught himself each new machine and method until one day he realized he was losing something in his wine. He began exploring ancient wine-making techniques and in time transformed his entire philosophy. He is currently a pioneer in the biodynamic movement and produces wine in 4,000-year-old clay amphorae, dug into the ground for natural temperature control. Gravner’s philosophy is expressed in a nutshell: “Wine and food have to be natural products. In flying a plane, one needs technology, but it’s absurd to think that man can ever improve what is natural. Wine and food we put in our stomachs. How could I continue to do my work if I have the knowledge that what I make was slowly poisoning my children?”When asked to describe his wines he said, “I don’t have the words for that, how can you describe a soul? I can tell you only that these wines have real spirit.” These quotes are enough to make anyone want to drink Gravner’s wine; the man is as spectacular as his products.

Movia’s Ales Kristancic is another top biodynamic wine producer from Friuli, though his vineyards border Friuli and Slovenia. He is quite a character, and Kristancic has talents that seem to burst at the seams; he’s a whirlwind of energy who can’t help but inspire the people he encounters. He has very strong ideas about wine and life, showcased in how he describes his vineyard and wines. Sergio recalls a moment where Ales metaphorically compares a newly planted vine with a growing young woman. He also describes the vine as our closest counterpart in the plant kingdom: “You must understand this—if any plant in the entire plant world were to rise up into the animal kingdom and become a human being, it would be the vine.”

Kristancic continues, “It is the plant closest in character to man. If it has this comfortable life and this undemanding land, it is never challenged. It’s like a spoiled socialite: healthy, beautiful and vapid. It’s a machine, not a thing of natural beauty- just eating and producing fruits. And yes, absolutely, you can make something from this fruit. You can mix it up in a barrel and get drunk from it — but this thing you make is not wine.” Kristancic is close to his land and what he creates—his energy is infections and you can’t help but catch his enthusiasm.

Sergio then brings us back to Barolo to the estate of Maurizio Anselma, a young man who leads Famiglia Anselma, an estate that has the goal to produce traditional Barolo reminiscent of his history. Maurizio first met Sergio at IWM as an inexperienced, but eager young, producer. His family had an advantage, having been purchasing vineyards since the late seventies. Established in 1993, the Anselmas went forward to produce some of the best traditional Barolo of today. Maurizio avers, “We will only make Barolo because this is the history of our land.” Reading this section, I felt I grew to understand the connection between Barolo and history even better, and to understand Barolo’s history seems tantamount to understanding Barolo.

“No barriques, no Berlusconi, no California,” is the motto of Bartolo Mascarello, a humble, yet iconic Barolo producer. Considered by many to be the master of the trade, Mascarello embodies his values and belief in his work in everything that he does. Sergio claims that Mascarello belongs to “a rare sub-species of human, the members of which are entirely uninfluenced by external sources of energy. His emotional state persisted despite those around him, as though he were surrounded by a force field of resolution that insulated him from all external anxiety, desire and chaos.” This could very likely be the reason why his wines are so revered. He sticks to his guns, making Barolo the way he believes he should make it, in the time it takes to make it. Nothing seems to be able to penetrate his stability and sense of tradition. He is the supreme example of what a Barolo can express.

Currently run by Franco Santi, Biondi Santi represents the discovery and creation of Brunello di Montalcino. Tancredi Santi, Franco’s father, discovered a replanted clone of Sangiovese during the phylloxera epidemic, a serendipitous moment that lead to the creation of Brunello and Rosso di Montalcino. Tancredi and Franco showed themselves to be expert entrepreneurs as well as wonderful winemakers, transforming a lonely, dusty spot in the road to one of the most important winemaking regions. And the beauty that Sergio describes is trance-inducing.

If Biondi Santi founded Brunello di Montalcino, then Gianfranco Soldera mastered it. Soldera was an industrial insurance broker from Milan before trying his hand at wine. He appeared to be quite prescient; Sergio recalls that Soldera told his colleagues, “If I find a great piece of land in the next year, I’m making the best wine in the world.” Quite a statement for a former insurance broker! He bought the Case Basse estate in1972 and went on to fulfill his prophecy of becoming one of, if not the best, Brunello producers of today.

If I had read Passion on the Vine a year ago, I would have been quite entertained by these unusual characters, but I might not have taken them very seriously. For example, biodynamics in itself is a controversial idea, with many wine cognoscenti thinking it’s mystical and useless, and before my days at IWM, I probably would have agreed with these naysayers. Now with my experience at IWM and the ability to taste wine every day, I think differently. I’ve enhanced my knowledge and palate, and I notice major differences between various styles and methods. It’s like every single bottle has its own personality and character, with its own story to tell—and reading Passion on the Vine illustrates how that feeling came to be. Each of these producers is a unique individual who makes his or her wines with private convictions and idiosyncratic philosophies. These bottles are like their children.

It’s what makes the wines of IWM so beautiful, and it’s what makes the book so good. We only have one more blog to finish this book club. I’m eager to know what you’ve been thinking. Who is your favorite producer? And why?

Just in Time for More Snow, Cooking Up Boeuf Bourguignon

Quality ingredients, including the wine

In addition to my love of wine, I also love cooking. And one of my favorite things is to marry both passions by cooking with a wine and then drinking that wine with dinner—for example, this time of year I love to make Boeuf Bourguignon. This meat-and-wine stew has gotten a lot of press lately with its star presence in the recent film Julie and Julia, but I assure you that I was cooking it long before the movie came out. There is something about it that reminds me of home and warms my soul. It’s quite a time consuming dish, but not complicated at all. The casserole cooks for around three hours to give all the flavors enough time to melt together and to make the beef so soft that it pulls apart. One trick I’ve learned is to transfer the mixture to a crock-pot to cook so that I don’t have to spend all day in the kitchen watching the oven.

I like to choose the freshest ingredients, preferably from the farmer’s market, and I choose a wine that I would actually drink. It doesn’t have to be an expensive Giacosa Barolo, so I choose something I would pop open for a movie night. My theory is if you don’t use quality ingredients from the start, you’re not going to end up with a quality dish. Even if I’m committed to using high-quality meat, I’m more flexible on the type of wine, and sometimes I even use wine left over from multiple bottles. Below is a Julia Child-inspired recipe you can use as a guideline, but don’t be afraid to modify it for your own purposes! I know I like mine with more carrots, and I add vegetables like celery and peas. I also like to pour mine over some delicious egg noodles.

Boeuf Bourguignon:

6 ounces bacon
1 tbsp. olive oil or cooking oil
3 pounds lean stewing beef, cut into bite-sized cubes
2 chopped carrots
2 chopped celery
1 chopped onion
1/2 cup of peas, cooked
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. pepper
2 tbsp. flour
3 cups full-bodied wine like Chianti
3 cups brown beef stock
1 tbsp. tomato paste
4 cloves mashed garlic
1/2 tsp. thyme
1 bay leaf
18 pearl onions, braised in stock
1 pound quartered fresh mushrooms, sautéed in butter
2 tbsp. butter
egg noodles
parsley

Directions:

Dice the bacon in small pieces and cook with oil in the casserole over medium heat until brown, about 3 minutes. Remove the bacon from the pan, drain it, and put bacon in a separate dish. Heat the oil and bacon fat until it gets really hot.

Make sure the beef is dry (to ensure a nice brown color), put it in the casserole and brown on all sides. Remove and combine with the bacon in the separate dish.

Lower the heat under the bacon fat, and then add the chopped carrots, celery, and onion to the oil and bacon fat and sauté until brown and slightly soft. Remove the excess fat.

Put the beef and bacon back into the casserole and add the salt and pepper. Sift in the flour and cook for a few minutes to reduce the starchy taste of the flour.

Add the wine and beef stock until it just barely covers the beef. Next put in the smashed garlic pieces, herbs and tomato paste. Turn up the heat and bring the entire mixture to a simmer.

Transfer the mixture to your crock-pot and cook on medium for three or more hours.

The meat should pull apart very easily when done.

While you wait for the beef, prepare the braised pearl onions, sautéed mushrooms, and peas—you’ll add all these at the end.

When the meat is done, strain the mixture over a saucepan and return the mixture to the casserole dish. Add the pearl onions, mushrooms, and peas to the casserole.

Bring the sauce to a simmer while skimming off the excess fat. Then—and I know this feels counter-intuitive-add the butter to the sauce mixture and cook until the sauce can coat the back of a spoon. If you prefer a thicker sauce, reduce it for longer, or if you like it thinner, add some beef broth.

While you do this, bring water to a boil in a pot and cook the egg noodles.

When the sauce is ready, pour it back over the meat and vegetables. Mix it all up and ladle over a bed of egg noodles. Sprinkle with some parsley. Delicious.

Please Allow Me to Introduce You to the Keyser Söze of Cheese

How I Spent My Christmas Vacation

“That smells like wet, old broccoli.”

“Did someone forget to change Annabelle’s diaper?”

“Eww, why would you do that to me?”

We were off to another banner start for the Deas Christmas Eve dinner, and I was rewarding and/or torturing my family with wine and cheese finds from the field. Sitting captive, they were waiting for their safe, traditional homemade Gumbo to arrive. I surveyed all of them, my victims, my audience, my family, and my gerbils in my ongoing experiments in discovering the apotheosis of wine and cheese pairings.

vacherin

My family’s exaggerated reactions were in response to the well-prepped cheeses that had sat patiently for hours, just waiting to reveal their hidden nuances. Included in the line-up was the Keyser Söze of cheeses, the Vacherin Mont d’Or that, like Alba’s prized white truffles, makes a brief appearance each year to intoxicate the senses with its earthy characteristics that range from mushrooms and truffles to pine wood and alpine flowers. Powerful but understated, and much like the white truffle or a Barolo, the strength of this cheese lies in its complexity and layers. Think Camembert but with more nuances and a signature woodsy note—and “foot” note as my wife puts it. If you appreciate white truffles and are a fan of aged wines, especially the likes of a Beaucastel, Chateau Musar, Bodega y Cavas de Weinert, Bartolo Mascarello, or Marques de Murrieta Castillo Ygay, the Vacherin could be a worthy stop in your next culinary adventure.

What makes this cheese so unique? The French and Swiss argue over its eighteenth-century origin; it’s only available from December to February; and it’s impossible to find (especially my preferred raw milk version—the benefits of getting to know your local cheese monger). While most cheeses obtain their flavor from the spring and summer milk of cows (or goats and sheep), the Vacherin is made from the richer fall and winter milk, and it is these same cows that go on to produce the Gruyere cheese through the warmer months of the year.

But outside the history, part of the attraction of Vacherin is the issue of finding some wine to complement it. Conventional wisdom say to employ the adage “what grows together, goes together” as a guide. I believe that is a great guiding principle; however, part of food and wine is about discovery, and I was interested in going beyond the Jura Mountains’ Arbois or Vin Jaune for this match. I knew from earlier tinkering that something magical happens when the mushroom notes of the cheese are touched by Champagne, and the Roger Coulon Brut Reserve echoed the flavor profile just fine. Likewise, an earthy Pinot Noir is an obvious candidate and the Bodega Chacra 2006 Cincuenta y Cinco did the job, although the wine picked up more of its mushroomy aspects 36 hours later when the wine had more aeration, which made for a better pairing on day two. I was also pleased with Marques de Murrieta Castillo Ygay 2001 Rioja Gran Reserva Especial. It wasn’t the obvious pick, but this Rioja is all about soft fruit, earthy notes, and aged wood, and it provided a complement to the cheese.

I’m a restless inventor, however, and next Christmas I am looking forward to trying some additional Champagnes with the prized Vacherin; the Egly-Ouriet Les Vignes de Vrigny due to its richness, or Selosse Brut Blanc de Blancs Initiale for its nutty complexity. What would you pair with the funkiness and complexity of Vacherin Mont d’Or? Or are you not intrepid enough to try?

The Best Wine I Never Drank

Choosing Between Two Flavors of Heaven

rob Being the wine guy, I get often asked to name my favorite wine. I find this a very difficult question to answer, for while I recognize that some wines are better than others, I’m not sure that I’m the one to ask. Is Giacomo Conterno’s Monfortino better than Aldo Conterno Granbussia? On any given night one could show better than the other! Looking back on 2009, I know for certain that it was a year filled with great wine. Two times this year I had wine moments that I may talk about for the rest of my life. Still, I have to ask myself this question: are either of these wines the best?

One night I had the opportunity to lead a tasting from an avid collector’s collection. For the grand finale of the tasting, our gracious hostess had three Bordeaux wines for us to taste, all from the legendary 1975 vintage. They were all astounding estates: Beychevelle, Cheval Blanc, and Petrus! I tried to open each of these bottles with great care, but only one would let me. I figured I’d go for the big boy first and, man, the Petrus cork came out without a fight; it was in perfect condition! I felt pretty optimistic when I next attempted to open the Cheval Blanc. However, the cork seemed to be glued to the bottle and would not move at all, so after trying my Ah-So double-prong corkscrew with no luck, I essentially drilled a hole down the middle! And the last wine was the worst for me to open-the Beychevelle’s cork crumbled into a million pieces even using the Ah-So!

Because of the state of their corks, I didn’t have high hopes for either the Cheval or the Beychevelle, but I certainly did for the Petrus. The bad news is the Beychevelle was corked; the good news was that this was a learning opportunity for most people at the tasting. While I was correct in my assumption in the Petrus, and while the wine certainly showed its greatness that night, it was not the wine of the night. There was very little hint of age on the Petrus, and I believe it was too early for this wine, which needs maybe fifteen more years for it to show its best self. The Cheval, however, was astounding. This night was the night that I had my greatest Bordeaux to date! The wine was incredibly balanced with deep, thoughtful flavors. It had a deep garnet color and was so rich without being heady. Still sweet with fruit yet showing an older wine’s woody flavors, this wine held complexities that I had never tasted before. The Cheval won me over that night, but I have a feeling if we did this tasting again in ten years it may not have the same grace.

The second night of best wine came during a big celebration my wife’s birthday. The night started right with a 3L bottle of Billecart 1985 Grand Cuvee, which was going to be a hard wine to top. The earth and flowers in this wine melded together with its minerality to create a very exciting palate. Next, we drank a Felsina 1990 Fontalloro from another 3L. What can I say about this wine? It’s Sangiovese the way it should be-a tremendous amount of black fruit and a finish that just did not want to stop. Finally, I had a trick up my sleeve: 7 bottles of Giacomo Conterno 1969 Barolo. This wine proved to be one of the hardest wines to pour for a group because every bottle showed a bit differently, so you couldn’t just refill someone’s glass. You had to make sure that person drank all of what was in the glass before adding more. It was such a complex process that I had to take over the wine pouring for the remainder of the night. I tasted each bottle, which I had opened at 4:00 p.m. At around 11:00 p.m., I discovered I had a game-changing Barolo! One of those seven bottles had the perfect balance of leather, spice rose and violets. The beautiful amber color made me stare at the wine in awe, and the smoky nose kept me coming back for deep inhalations. It was a stunning, glorious wine-drinking moment.

I could talk about these wines for years to come. They were so good that they changed my standard of great wines. On the other hand, given a stellar enough experience, I could have a new standard tomorrow night. The one thing that I’m sure I’ll be talking about is which wine is the best-even if I don’t know the answer. It’s just such a great question and one that can be debated endlessly. It’s the same as having to choose the best car between a Lamborghini or a Maserati, the best album between Exile on Main Street or the White Album, or the best director between Kubrick and Hitchcock. When viewing Picasso next to Rembrandt, which is best? I can’t say, and I’m not sure I want to.

« go back — keep looking »