Monthly Archives: February 2012

A Carneros Chardonnay that Failed the Reality Check

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I am always conscious at tastings that more powerful wines tend to outshine more subtle wines, or that for whatever reason a wine that tastes well might seem different when accompanying a meal. As in my view wine is intended to partner food, I like whenever possible to perform a reality check: to have a bottle for dinner to see whether a wine performs in the same way over a meal as it did in a tasting. Sometimes my notes are consistent from both conditions, but sometimes I decide that I was fooled at the tasting.

One recent experience wasn’t really a reality check because the dinner did not immediately follow the tasting, but I was struck by the contrast between my tasting note, from a bottle tried together with several others at the producer two years ago, and the evolution of the wine as experienced at dinner last week.

In my original tasting, the wine cut the richness of the New World by showing good acidity to support the citrus fruits, and gave a tight, clean impression. Today the issue is not so much that the wine seems richer, but that the mainstream impression of citrus and stone fruits has been extended into exotic fruits with a slightly stewed impression. The overall balance seems over ripe and alcoholic, with a slightly sweet impression on the finish.

At a meal at Terra restaurant in St. Helena, the wine clashed with the first three dishes (tuna sashimi, wild mushroom salad, and black cod in sake). It showed well only against the lobster with pumpkin ravioli, which itself had a slightly sweet touch. Maybe the wine would go well against cuisine in that modern style which mixes fruity and savory and tends to be slightly sweet, but even then one might find the fruit flavors a little overwhelming.

Did I misjudge the wine originally or did I fail to foresee its evolution from ripe to over ripe? The parallel that comes to mind is 1983 Burgundy, where the wines were delicious one month, but filled with rot the next month, a development which was completely unpredictable from bottle to bottle. Perhaps it’s the same on the edge of ripeness.

Tasting Notes

Carneros, Hyde Vineyard, Ramey Wine Cellars, 2007, 14.5%

February 2012    This wine has become noticeably more exotic in the past two years, with a whiff of over ripe fruits showing on the palate. The citrus fruits that dominated the palate originally remain an important component, but now are accompanied by strong notes of stewed fruits verging on the over ripe. The style now seems too rich and alcoholic; although the alcohol does not stick out directly, I would be surprised if it is really as low as the stated 14.5%. Really too assertive to be a food wine, the over ripe intensity makes this seem a bit clumsy, and I tired of it after a glass. Drink it now before it degenerates into a caricature of a New World Chardonnay.

February 2010    Faintly oaky notes on the nose with underlying hints of citrus. Faint notes of lime and lemon on the palate. a cleaner, tighter impression than the Ritchie vineyard. Nice long finish with citrus and smoky notes of oak coming through.

The Reality of Appellations in Napa

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In Napa for the Barrel Auction this weekend, I spent Friday afternoon at a series of tasting events organized by the producers of several AVAs. My objective was to determine whether I could see any specificity to Cabernet Sauvignon produced in the  top three appellations of the valley floor: Rutherford, Oakville, and Stags Leap.

The Rutherford Dust group of producers takes its name from the supposed quality of Rutherford: a dusty note in the wines. Whether this is real or is a marketing ploy has been long debated. “The tannins of wines from Rutherford give the sensation you get by running your hand backwards along velvet,” was a description by one producer. Things started out well at the Rutherford Dust group tasting. The first three wines, Alpha Omega 2009, Faust 2009, and Grgich 2008 all showed a similar quality to their tannins. I would not describe it as dusty, more as a sort of slightly sharp tang to the tannins on the finish, but it was a distinctive tannic grip. Then inevitably came some wines to spoil the pattern, Hall Excellenz 2005 (massive tannins), Flora Springs Trilogy (tight and elegant), and then Rubicon Estate 2008 (firm and furry). But with the exception of Peju 2008 and 2001, whose wines were distinctly more aromatic than the others, there was a commonality, with firm tannins giving the wines a classic impression across several vintages.

Things also started well in Oakville, where the first few wines all seems to fit a pattern where taut black fruits were supported by fine grained tannins that reinforced the impression of elegance. Nickel and Nickel’s Branding Iron and Sullenger Vineyard 2008s, Ghost Block Estate 2009, Kelleher 2007, Far Niente 2009 all supported a view that Oakville plays St. Julien to Rutherford’s version of Pauillac. Bond St. Eden 2006 was much more reserved, but generally conformed to the elegant style.But then Harbison 2009, Plumpjack Estate 2009, and Paradigm 2008 all displayed a much softer style, with more overt, opulent black fruit aromatics extending from blackcurrants to cassis.

In Stags Leap District I got much less impression of consistency. Several wines were very soft, forward, and approachable, with soft black fruits on the palate, supported by nuts and vanillin on the finish, with tannins noticeable only as a soft, furry presence in the background. Clif Lede Poetry 2009 and 2004, Stags Leap SLV 2008 and 1997, Pine Ridge 2008 were nice enough wines if you would like something to drink in the immediate term, but I was left wondering how it represents Cabernet typicity as opposed to Merlot or Syrah to make wines that are so fruit-forward and lacking in tannic structure. Shafer One Point Five 2009 showed Shafer’s usual ripe, aromatic style, while Clos du Val 2007 and 1997 showed a more traditional approach, with good acidity supporting firm fruits and the tannins showing a structure halfway between the Rutherford grip and Oakville precision.

Where am I left? There may be a typicity that distinguishes the tannins of Rutherford and Oakville if you let it express itself; I reserve judgment about Stags Leap. In any of these appellations, however, you can make soft, forward, fruity, wines with lots of nutty vanillin to bump up the appeal, using appropriate winemaking techniques. Caveat terroir.

The Retarded Development of Cabernet Sauvignon

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In Bordeaux it is axiomatic that Cabernet Sauvignon does not make a complete wine in itself but needs to be blended, most typically with Merlot, to fill out the mid palate. In California, opinion is quite polarized: some producers believe that Cabernet Sauvignon makes a complete wine in itself, others that full complexity requires blending. Because opinion is polarized, it’s rare to find a producer in California who makes both a monovarietal Cabernet Sauvignon and a blend, allowing the effects of blending to be seen directly. So I was delighted on a visit to Mount Eden in the Santa Cruz Mountains to discover that for some years they had produced both a monovarietal Cabernet Sauvignon and a blend. I was especially interested to see whether the relationship seemed the same in this environment as it had in Bordeaux, where I was able to compare some Cabernet Sauvignon that had been bottled alone with the final blend of the chateau (To Blend or Not to Blend).

The Mount Eden winery was originally the Martin Ray winery, and had some old plantings of Cabernet Sauvignon that originated with a selection brought from Margaux around 1900 (it is unclear whether the source was Chateau Margaux or the commune of Margaux). After Martin Ray left in 1970, this became the Mount Eden winery in 1972. There were several rapid changes in winemaker, until Jeffrey Patterson started making the wine in 1981; today he is the majority owner with his wife. The winery is a couple of miles up a dirt track up the mountain (the instructions said it was 2.2 miles, but driving up in sheeting rain earlier this week, it felt much longer), at a height of about 2000 foot, overlooking Santa Clara Valley. The elevation of the vineyards varies over about 400 feet.

We tasted a very interesting comparison between two wines of the 1994 vintage: a Bordeaux-like blend and the 100% Cabernet Old Vine Reserve, which comes from a plot of very old Cabernet that was still on its own roots (it has since been replanted). The vines for the blend were planted in 1980, a mix of 1 acre Cabernet Franc, 1.5 acres Merlot, 11.5 acres Cabernet Sauvignon. The vineyards are close by on the same mountain top, and the scion is the same. You see the same relative difference as in Bordeaux: the monovarietal is more precise, tighter, less developed; the blend has lost that precise delineation of fruits, but has gained some roundness, development, and flavor variety.

It seemed to me that the monovarietal Cabernet was more youthful relative to the blend, which was developing a delicious savory edge. This leads me to wonder whether the importance of blending is not so much for the flavor spectrum in young wines, when Cabernet Sauvignon in California (or at least in the warmer sites in Sonoma and in Napa) develops full ripeness, but for aging, when more complexity develops in the blend than in the monovarietal. Do monovarietals suffer retarded development to the point of impeding their evolution?

Tasting Notes

Santa Cruz Mountains, Cabernet Sauvignon, 1994

This wine is approximately 85% Cabernet Sauvignon. Apearance is garnet with some ruby hues still evident. Restrained black fruits on the nose. On the palate the fruits are more rounded and a little more generous than the monovarietal. There’s no trace of herbaceousness; there’s a faint chocolate edge to the tannins showing on the finish. More sense of development, with a very faint trace of sous bois, but less precision than the monovarietal. About to enter its peak phase of maturation. 91 Drink-2020

Santa Cruz Mountains, Cabernet Sauvignon Old Vine Reserve, 1994

Medium garnet color. Very faintly spicy on the nose with perhaps just a touch of cinnamon. Intense ripe black fruits on the palate with a fine grained texture of supporting tannins. There is that taut precision of the 100% Cabernet Sauvignon. A touch of black aromatics is cut by a suspicion of herbaceousness. Restrained and taut compared to the blend, which is more generous. 90 Drink-2018.

Unnatural Concerns

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Why is everyone in such a tizzy about something that does not exist: natural wine. Robert Parker in The Wine Advocate thinks it is a scam perpetrated on the consumer. Eric Asimov in the New York Times defends it.

If you allow yeast to ferment crushed grapes, you get wine. Natural, in fact completely natural, wine. But it is scarcely stable long enough to drink: rapidly enough it becomes infected with bacteria and converted to vinegar. Intervention is needed to keep it as wine: the addition of sulfur to prevent bacterial infection at a minimum. But it’s going to have to be kept in a container: an animal skin? an amphora? a wooden barrel? stainless steel or glass? Its flavor will change depending on the container – is it still natural?

Perhaps this is a reductio ad absurdum, but it makes the point that every stage in wine production, no matter how seemingly innocent, reflects a human intervention or decision that affects the character of the wine. If by natural wine, we mean a wine that has the minimum of intervention – no synthetic treatments in the vineyard, no addition of sugar, acidity, or anything else during fermentation – then that’s fine; but recognize that the wine may not be so good as if some intervention had been allowed.

The issues become more difficult post fermentation. Is it more natural to allow or not to allow malolactic fermentation? If the wine is going to be matured in oak, the producer has to choose the source of the oak, whether it’s new or old, how it’s toasted, how long the wine stays in it: what’s natural?

The concept of minimalist winemaking is surely associated with natural wine. Nikolaus Moser at the Sepp Moser Weingut in Austria’s Kremstal valley makes two different wines from the Grüner Veltliner he grows in the tiny Schnabel vineyard.  Most ferments in stainless steel for about two weeks, rests on the lees for seven months, and is bottled. A smaller part of the wine ferments in 300 liter barrels of old Austrian oak; fermentation takes three months to complete and the wine also goes (spontaneously) through malolactic fermentation. No sulfur is added, the wine is left on the lees for a year, and bottled the following May. This is called MINIMAL to indicate minimal intervention. The two wines taste completely different. The question is what’s really the “minimal” treatment? There was less intervention for the MINIMAL wine, but actually much more happened to it: oxidative exposure during prolonged alcoholic fermentation, malolactic fermentation, and a long exposure to the lees in the oak barrels. At Schloss Vollrads in Germany’s Rheingau, Rowald Hepp has a different view of the requirements for minimalist winemaking. He believes the wine should be transferred to stainless steel as soon as possible so that it is created and matured with the minimum of influence from its environment. What is the natural wine?

Natural wine has such different, even opposing, meanings that it has limited usefulness as a subject for debate. The concern that wine is becoming more of a manipulated product is real enough, but as the comparisons above show, it’s not always so easy to decide what is manipulation and what is protection against manipulation.