An Icon Passes

Jim Barrett, founder of Chateau Montelena, passed away at the end of last week. Barrett was propelled into fame on a world stage when his 1973 Napa Valley Chardonnay took first place among the white wines at the famous (or infamous) Judgement of Paris wine tasting in 1976, and though American wine would no doubt have gotten the recognition it deserved eventually, he did his part. “A life well lived,” his son Bo says, and reports that the winery will stay in their family for “as many decades going forward as we have enjoyed during his life.” 

 

Not a bad legacy.

Something Other Than Wine: A Review of Willett Straight Rye

I did it. I shelled out the $60 and bought a bottle of Willett Rye. I did not mention to my girlfriend just how much it cost.

WFE-Rye-cropped-close

 

From the distillery good enough to have the web address http://www.kentuckybourbonwhiskey.com/ comes this tasty little gem. Aged four years in new, charred white oak, it was surprisingly smooth for a rye. I tend to find rye whiskies a little abrasive; this had a tinge of that element,  but in a charming way. The nose was nice, slightly citrusy with a piney, spice element and not too much alcoholic heat. A nice burn on the palate (thanks, 110-proof!) that I really appreciated; I like to know when I’m drinking spirits! The pine element really came out on the palate as well, but like I say, this was very smooth for a rye. Pepper, mint, cloves. Lovely, warm length; it went on just long enough to satisfy, and then it was time for another sip!

Tasted neat, with a couple drops of distilled water.

Recommended! 92 points. Seek it out if you can.

 

Purchased at Downtown Spirits: http://www.downtown-spirits.com/

 

On Wine

The world is rife with important matters. Global warming, starvation, and disease are a few good examples. You also might include war, pestilence, and famine. Throw on top of that the economic uncertainties we face in the modern era, and you might think that humanity has enough to worry about without inventing pastimes to keep us occupied. Yet that’s exactly what we do every day. Whether it be film, theater, literature or visual art, mankind is constantly developing ways to entertain itself. The most natural of these ways is through food and drink; consumption is the basest form of interaction with the world, and at our basest, humans consume. The human body needs to devour anywhere from 1700 to 2500 calories to survive each day without turning to its own flesh for sustenance. With that in mind, we should find it unsurprising that we are as a race slightly food obsessed. To paraphrase Alice Waters, at some point in every single day, the question arises: What’s for dinner? And whether it’s a decadent, multi-course French meal or a simple plate of pasta, there is no better accompaniment to the dinner table than a bottle of fine wine.But the bottom line is: Why the fuck should you care about wine? With all the poverty, war, hatred, oppression, and various other extremely serious things that the world has to offer us to worry about, why waste time on something as frivolous as fermented grape juice? The answer, of course, is that people love to concern themselves with frivolous things! Rather than focus on the massive, daunting – nay, overwhelming – problems of the world and the universe we narrow our focus to that which is pleasant and fascinating, and wine is a particularly enjoyable way to while away your time as the world degenerates into chaos and inhospitable disorder. After all, it tastes good, it’s an engaging thing to talk about (what with the myriad methods of production, grape varieties, and news of the industry – not to mention the sordid, tawdry gossip that comes with any community), and – here’s the kicker – it gets you drunk! Not drunk in the hobo-on-the-street sense of the word, mind you, but drunk in the we’re-all-so-middle-class and life-is-such-a-parade sense. Tipsy, as it were. Good luck finding another way to remain oh-so-classy while still scratching that mid-twenties urge to get delightfully lit. (Craft cocktails are, of course, making a resurgence, and that’s a good example of a competitor to wine for its classiness – more on that later!)

So there it is, the dirty secret that sommeliers don’t ever want to talk about in their elevated discourses on region, vintage, and method of production: Wine will get you drunk. And easily, too! The average alcohol content in a dry red wine has got to be around 13.5-14% these days, and is steadily on the rise. Compare that to perhaps 5% to 6% in your average microbrew, and it makes you wonder why frat boys aren’t chugging Pinot Noir through funnels. It would certainly match the togas better.

Beyond the intoxicating appeal of wine, the sensory experience is amazing! Spend some time with a glass of wine and you’ll (on any given day) find rich, dark blackberries, black plums, red raspberries, tart cherries, subtle cola notes, cedar, spice box, incense, leather, horse mane, butter, lemons, limes, peaches, apricots, grapefruit, kiwi, passion fruit, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. All of these aromas and individual experiences are waiting in a glass of wine – and that’s before you even taste it! People who are into wine – call them oenophiles, wine nerds, cork dorks, or whatever else you may choose – are obsessed with these things; the subtle differences between perceived citrus fruits and tropical fruits intrigue and delight.

Because no two people’s nose is exactly alike, controversy and dischord can permeate a tasting group, destroying friendships and dividing communities. This is fine. Anything that riles passion in the human heart enough to draw people together will inevitably tear some people apart.

I digress. Wine can be a captivating experience, but you have to be willing to be wrong, willing to be clueless, and willing to accept that with time your tastes and your preferences will change and evolve, and that you will inevitably look back at your previous wine choices – your ideals of oenology, your idols of viticulture, your concept of what a great wine is – and say to yourself ‘what in the world was I thinking?’ This is right, though it can be a particularly expensive problem if you’re of a wine collecting mindset.

The point of wine, at its heart, is to engage in your senses, to connect with your body, and to embark upon a journey that will never end, an experiential odyssey that you’ll carry with you for your entire life. Through wine, a little bit of France, of Italy, of South Africa and of Walla Walla can travel to you; you, the winemaker, and everyone else who ever tries a wine can learn about the world, can grow as people, and can experience life in a mysterious and dynamic way that is never quite the same from person to person but is nevertheless part of the greater shared existence that makes us all human.

And, of course, you can get lit in the best possible way: Like a classy person.

A Quickie Review

20111221-194807.jpg

2008 Louis M Martini Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon

A decent little Cabernet! Oak-driven flavor profile on opening, but some air mellows that and integrates it with a concentrated black fruit with subtle high-toned elements and a light dried herb. It’s a pretty good pick if you’re looking for a well-made, easy pleaser. The $20-ish price tag might scare the average consumer off, and I’m not saying it has the best quality-to-price ratio out there, but there’s nothing wrong with it!

Whiskey: A Primer: Part One

(Note: I realized halfway through writing this post that I don’t really know what I’m talking about. However, I shall venture forth regardless, and invite you to learn along with me! If I’ve made any inaccurate statements (which I’m sure I have), I apologize, and invite you to correct me (gently!) in the comments. I promise that I’ll accept any such criticism with all due humility. -JM)

The recent changes in the Washington State liquor laws behoove me to turn my otherwise wine-and-beer focused mind on a completely new category: Spirits! And since this blog exists as nothing if not a conduit for my own learning (and hopefully for yours as well, gentle reader), I’m beginning a new series of posts. In this series, I intend to examine the types of spirits, their various styles and methods of production, and how they come across on the palate. Since this is (of course) for my own edification in large part, I’ll begin with my personal favorite type of liquor: Whiskey!

First, let’s define our terms and come to a consensus on what we precisely mean when we use the terms ‘liquor’ or (synonymically) ‘spirits.’ Merriam-Webster defines liquor as ” a usually distilled rather than fermented alcoholic beverage,” but that isn’t quite accurate for our purposes. When we talk about liquor or spirits (which I’ll just call spirits for the sake of convenience) we’re discussing only the alcoholic product of a distillation process. Furthermore, this distillate is in fact the end product of both fermentation and distillation, since it is a fermented product that is distilled. With this in mind, let’s use our subject, whiskey, as an example.

The original fermented product used in the production of whiskey is made of grain mash. Grains (barley, rye, wheat, corn) are the original source of the sugar that is fermented into alcohol. If it’s barley or rye, then at least some of the grains have to be malted before fermentation can begin. As that oh-so-reliable source Wikipedia states: “The grains are made to germinate by soaking in water, and are then halted from germinating further by drying with hot air.” During germination, an enzyme is produced that converts many of the starches contained in the grain into sugars that can be converted into alcohol during the fermentation process. These malted grains are often added to a mixture of other grains. This grain mixture is combined with water (which, confusingly, is called the ‘liquor’) and this combination is known as the mash. The mash is heated, and the enzymes created during germination conduct their chemical processes and thus convert the grain’s starches into fermentable sugar. The sugars dissolve into the water and this sugar-saturated water solution is separated from the grain’s solids. This solution is now known as the wort.

Alright, so at this point we’ve gotten a key ingredient to any alcoholic beverage: A bunch of sugar combined with water. The method of acquisition may seem tedious and overly complicated – after all, can’t you just dissolve some table sugar in tap water? – but lends essential flavors to the end product. Basically, along with the sugars from the grain mash, the wort takes away delicate polyphenols that affect the flavor of the end product. The other key element to flavor development at this point is the water. There are innumerable (well, they probably are numerable, but I don’t intend to numerate them) mineral elements within water that affect the end flavor result, as well as vegetal particulate that may be solute within water. These factors vary wildly from water source to water source; one example of effects of water source on whiskey is the presence of peat particulate in water used in Scotch production. This is one element that contributes to the level of smokiness that varies so much in different Scotches (though the use of peat fires in drying the malted grains affects the level of smokiness even more). I’m not going to go into the whole ‘water influence’ thing too much more because, frankly, I’m not expert enough. However, suffice it to say, it’s kind of a big deal.

Back to something I’m more comfortable with: Fermentation. The water/sugar solution known as the wort is fermented. The end result of this is known as the beer or the wash – basically a water/alcohol solution (with polyphenols and other things that add flavor and uniqueness and the magic that is what makes the whole “beverage” thing so ephemeral, but mostly just water & alcohol). The wash is distilled, and this too is a pretty straightforward process.

(Note: Whenever I say ‘alcohol,’ I mean ethanol, not methanol or any of the other non-tasty forms of alcohol.)

Distillation: The process by which one substance is separated from another through the intervention of heat. Basically, this is possible because different substances (such as water and alcohol) have different boiling temperatures. Water (boiling point 100 degrees celsius) has a higher boiling point than alcohol (78 degrees celsius). Therefore, when heat is applied to a water/alcohol solution at a level at or above 78 degrees celsius but below 100 degrees celsius, the alcohol is converted into a gaseous form but (most of) the water remains liquid. If the alcohol is then trapped and reverted back into a liquid form (along with some water steam), the end result is what the Scottish call the low wine, a mixture of alcohol, water, and volatile esters that comes out at a little more than 20 percent alcohol. During this process, the first part and last part of the distillate – what American distillers call the heads and tails – are removed, because they contain either toxic elements (such as methanol, though apparently that’s not really as much of an issue with grain alcohol as it is with distillate of grapes or other fruits) or just nasty-tasting esters. Anyway, the middle two-thirds-ish is what makes the cut, and what becomes the low wine. The low wine is then redistilled – at least a second time, but sometimes three or up to twenty times. These additional distillations increase the alcohol content of the resulting spirit.

So that’s it, right? Bing-bang-boom, fermentation + distillation = spirit, right? Not so fast. Up until now, we’ve really been talking about distillation and not necessarily what makes whiskey unique and individual (other than the use of particular grains for production, and the use of peat in the Scottish malting process). This is the point in production where it begins to take on its individual characteristics, and where methods diverge amongst regional producers, thusly developing into what is labeled ‘Scotch,’ ‘Irish Whiskey,’ ‘Bourbon,’ et cetera. Labeling requirements include percentages of certain grains, length of barrel aging, region of production, blending methods, and approved additives. Most whiskey (okay, pretty much all quality whiskey) spends at least three years in barrel (most often more) to give it that rich, caramelly deliciousness that we all know and love. But there are more specifications! Stay tuned for the details in Whiskey: A Primer: Part 2, in which I’ll go into cooperage (that is, barrel-making), whiskey-making regions, and anything else that I’ve missed.

Wine Region in Focus: Oregon

When talking about wine production in the United States, there are basically three states that need to be discussed. While there is wine production in all fifty states (though not grapes grown in all fifty states; none in Alaska, for instance), the West Coast states are the ones most heralded as having excellent wine regions. Therefore, it is no surprise that on the list of states with the largest production of wine, they are the first, second, and third. California is the unchallenged king of wine production in America; in 2009, they produced 631 million gallons, about ninety percent of the wine made in the country. Washington State is a distant second with about 28 million gallons. Oregon pulled up the rear in these three with 10 million gallons.

Since California is clearly King, and Washington is undeniably a burgeoning wine region, what does that make Oregon? Like many of the Western states in America, the first known plantings of wine grapes date back to settlers in the 1800s. They planted vines for personal consumption, and the resulting wines were undoubtedly of fair to middling quality. But – again, like most other fine wine regions in America – Prohibition stunted the growth of the wine industry in Oregon, and high-quality commercial wine did not begin until the 1960s. Wine in Oregon in the modern era began with Richard Sommers at HillCrest Winery. Founded in 1961 in the Umpqua Valley (which is further south in Oregon than the more-famous Willamette Valley appellation), it is the official first post-Prohibition winery in the state of Oregon. There, he planted the state’s oldest Pinot Noir vines.

Sommers was followed several years later by his several other pioneers of Oregon viticulture: Charles Coury, Dick Erath, and David Lett. However, these three ventured further north and began operations in the Willamette Valley, which would go on to become Oregon’s premier wine growing region. Charles Coury started the eponymous Coury Winery (now defunct, though his original plantings are now farmed by David Hill Winery), Dick Erath founded what is now Erath Winery, and David Lett began Eyrie Vineyards. All of these visionaries moved north from California, where vineyard land was too expensive and the winemaking culture focused on Cabernet Sauvignon and not Pinot Noir.

Wine in Oregon in the modern era began with Richard Sommers at HillCrest Winery. Founded in 1961 in the Umpqua Valley (which is further south in Oregon than the more-famous Willamette Valley appellation), it is the official first post-Prohibition winery in the state of Oregon. There, he planted the state’s oldest Pinot Noir vines. Sommers was followed several years later by his several other pioneers of Oregon viticulture: Charles Coury, Dick Erath, and David Lett. However, these three ventured further north and began operations in the Willamette Valley, which would go on to become Oregon’s premier wine growing region. Charles Coury started the eponymous Coury Winery (now defunct), Dick Erath founded what is now Erath Winery, and David Lett began Eyrie Vineyards. All of these visionaries moved north from California, where vineyard land was too expensive and the winemaking culture focused on Cabernet Sauvignon and not Pinot Noir.

In Oregon, they set the foundations for a wine industry that now has a dedication to quality, typicity, and the expression of terroir. Since the mid-1960, it has grown from five wineries to 314 in 2005, and has firmly set itself upon the world stage as a high-quality wine growing region. The focus in the state is on Pinot Noir, the majority of which is produced in the Willamette Valley. The Willamette spans from the north end of the state at the Columbia River down to just south of Eugene; with a total of 3.3 million acres within the appellation, it is by far the largest AVA within Oregon. The Pinots produced in the region can be beautiful; in general, they are of a more delicate style than those of California; the finest can be reminiscent of an excellent red Burgundy. Chardonnay also grows excellently in the Willamette, making wines that are often elegant and mineral-driven. Many say that the Chardonnays of the Willamette Valley are the domestic wines most reminiscent to the great white Burgundies of France.

Beyond the Burgundian grape varieties (Pinot Noir and Chardonnay), the Willamette Valley also makes excellent wines from several other white grape varieties. Pinot Gris grows wonderfully in its maritime climate; it makes wines that are soft, fruit-driven, and can have an element of sweetness. Some producers do well with the German variety Riesling; these wines are made in a variety of styles, from dry and racy to sweet and unctuous. Other, more obscure varieties are beginning to gain a foothold in the valley as well; some producers are experimenting with the Austrian variety Gruner Veltliner, while others have had some success with the Loire Valley grape Melon de Bourgogne (the grape variety utilized in the production of Muscadet). Red varieties other than Pinot Noir have failed to develop a presence in the region; whether this is because of Pinot’s popularity or the unsuitability of the region for other varieties remains unclear. It is likely that Cabernet Franc or Gamay might be grown successfully there (and there is limited development of these grapes by a few vineyards), but the commercial viability of Pinot Noir ensures that it will continue to dominate the red wine vineyards of the Willamette.

Living within the long shadow of the Willamette Valley are two wine regions to the south in Oregon: The Umpqua Valley and the Rogue Valley. The Umpqua, within which the most prominent town is Roseburg, has a broad variety of wine growing microclimates; the vineyards there produce a diverse portfolio of grapes, from Pinot Noir and Chardonnay to Riesling, Tempranillo and Merlot. The Rogue Valley (which is just to the north of the California border) is the land of heat-loving grapes; Cabernet, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, and Syrah can thrive there. At the same time, there are small pockets where the cool-loving varieties Pinot Noir and Chardonnay can be grown with great success.

Ever since David Lett’s 1975 Eyrie Vineyards Pinot Noir scored second in the 1979 wine competition put on by Burgundy’s Joseph Drouhin (above the much-vaunted 1961 Drouhin Clos-de-Beze), Oregon has been on the map as one of the world’s finest wine-producing regions. The Pinot Noirs of the state are renowned as being top-notch, and the other varieties grown can be excellent as well. More importantly, the culture of winemaking in Oregon is one of innovation, experimentation, and uncompromising quality. There is little doubt that this state will continue to produce wines at the highest possible level.

Tasting Group

The tasting group assembled yesterday. Here’s what we tried:

Sorry for that terrible iPhone picture. Here’s a review (including my miserably embarrassing blind tasting attempts):

2006 Lan Rioja Crianza: Light ruby color, medium intensity. Notes of red raspberries and red currant as well as citrus fruits (grapefruit rind), along with a bit of spice. Not a lot of oak influence. The palate was medium bodied, and I got an intense pepper note on the back end. All in all I thought it was pretty pleasing, but not ethereal. I called it a Spanish Garnacha because of the lightness of color, the citrus note, and the pepper note. There’s probably some Garnacha in it, so I don’t feel terrible about that one.

2006 Seia Alder Ridge Vineyard Syrah: Ruby color, medium intensity (which will be a trend). This wine stunk. Green olives, barnyard, funkiness. Actually, not a displeasing little experience if you’re in the mood for something bretty. I called it a Cotes-du-Rhone, which is unfortunate. HOWEVER, the fruit had subsided to a level that made me think it must be an old world wine. So, wrong for the right reasons (which will also be a trend).

McKinley Springs 2006 Horse Heaven Hills Cabernet Sauvignon: Ruby color, high intensity. This wine had some pretty intense oak influence. Chocolate, mocha, baking spice, cloves, et cetera. Hidden under all that was some dark plum and blackberry fruit. All in all not bad, though a little new-worldy for my mood. I called it a Napa Valley Cabernet, so I’ll take the points on that one.

Clif Lede 2006 Stag’s Leap District Cabernet Sauvignon: Ruby color, medium intensity. I HATED this wine, which is unfortunate, because I recommend it all the time! Anyway, I thought that it was over-oaked in a disgusting way. I said that I thought it was oak chipped at one point. Oy. There were some pencil shaving elements that were kinda nice (and should have pointed me toward Napa Valley), but for the most part it was just 2×4 wood with no fruit concentration. The body on the palate was miserable as well – thin, and not able to hold up to all that oak. I should say that my cohorts liked it more than I did; I think I was in a funky mood yesterday evening. Anyway, I forget what I blinded it as except for absolutely awful – an overcropped Cali Merlot or something like that. Too bad; I still like Clif Lede as a winery, I think.. Also, I have a couple of these in my cellar. Bummer.

Plungerhead 2009 Lodi Zinfandel: Ruby color, medium intensity (yet again). This was unpleasant as well, but at least that’s to be expected. Overoaked and thin, et cetera. Actually, not that unlike the Clif Lede in flavor profile (mostly because they’re both oaked to Hell), but with less tannin structure. I don’t really have much to say about this wine. It was spicy and oaky and had red brambly fruit. I think I called it a watered-down Cali Syrah, though Zinfandel was thrown out there as an option.

Arrowood 2007 Sonoma County Chardonnay: Golden color, bordering on amber. At least I pegged this one! And right on the head, too, though I knew where the person got it, so it wasn’t that hard. It’s blatantly obvious Chardonnay – everyone in the group smelled it and said ‘Well, that’s Chardonnay.’ I rather enjoyed it for what it was; big, slutty California Chardonnay has always been a guilty pleasure for me. It is that, too, and in spades: Creamy, oaky, big, fat, and fun to drink. For $10 (the price Esquin has it on special at right now) I’ll drink it all day long.

Sauvion 2007 Vouvray, Demi-Sec: Pale hay color, tinged with green. Despite the color, this wine was showing notes of oxidation: Petrol and nuttiness. The only thing that I could find that made it varietally correct was a hint of spiced applesauce, which I rather enjoyed. On the palate its sweetness is pretty apparent, as is its one-dimensionality. However, chilled down on a hot day this is eminently chuggable. I knew what this was, as I brought it, and it was obvious. A couple of my cohorts pegged it, though, so good for them!

Not shown was the 2006 Le Boscq St Estephe that I brought, as it was corked. Bummer.

SO how did I feel about this tasting group? Pretty miserable. I wish I’d gotten more of them right – I really only pegged one, though I got close enough on at least one other to give myself the point. However, as they say (and as I keep repeating over and over again to salve my ego), at least I was wrong for all the right reasons.