Category Archives: Wine

The Oakiness of It All

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We’ve come a long way since oak was merely a storage and maturation medium for wine. Judging from an all day seminar that Taransaud organized in London for the Institute of Masters of Wine, its role today is second only to the grapes themselves. The seminar was divided into two parts: a morning that considered individually many of the parameters that determine the effects of oak; and an afternoon looking at innovations to respond to changes in modern winemaking. Here’s a report on the morning; the afternoon will follow.

The background according to Henri de Pracomtal, Chairman of Taransaud, is that use of new oak is declining, down to 85% instead of a mandatory 100% when the vintage isn’t up to it in Bordeaux, although typically staying more or less around a third new, a third one year, and a third two year in Burgundy. The use of 200% oak (successive use of new barrels) is “dead.” There’s been significant backing off from new oak in the New World. The focus here was all on oak barrels,  although Taransaud also own Canton in Kentucky, where other formats are used. When they bought Canton, Henri was horrified to see oak chips, and wanted to stop their production, but “look at the profit margin” they told him. “Oak chips are for short term aromatics rather than long term élevage,” he says. The seminar was entirely about the effects of different barrel regimes on wine quality and style.

A long list of aroma and flavor compounds that are extracted from oak made it clear in a talk from Taransaud’s oenologist, Nicolas Tiquet-Lavandier, that the effects are profound. Considering how long oak has been used, it seems surprising that new compounds are still being discovered. I was also surprised that the role of oxygen loomed so large, with discussion about the porosity of the oak, entry between the staves, and through the bung. I thought it had now been established that basically all oxygen enters through the bung (which should mean there’s much less since the change to the new silicon bungs).

The heart of the seminar was a series of comparative tastings with wines that had been specially vinified under different conditions. The results of comparing French, Hungarian and American oak were fairly predictable, with a strong contrast between the toasty vanillin of Château Puygueraud (Côtes de Francs) 2011 in French oak and the stronger aromas of coconut from American oak. Since French and American oak are different species of trees this was not surprising, but the difference between French and Hungarian, which are the same species, was pronounced: the French oak gave a refined impression to the wine, the Hungarian was somewhat coarse. This emphasizes the effect of growth conditions on the oak: it’s colder in the Hungarian forests and the trees tend to be smaller. This links in to a change in the way tonneliers in France handle their sources – there is much less emphasis on individual forests, and more on the grain of the individual wood. “Within a forest is not a unique location. This is why we at Taransaud have gone our of the forest, we blend forests, the grain is very important, the tighter the grain, the more slowly the wine matures,” says Henri.

I was quite fooled by the blind tasting to test the effects of duration of seasoning. The wood at Taransaud is air dried by exposing staves in the open. A critical element is the need for rain and humidity in the first six months, which is becoming a concern in view of reduced rainfall in some years. The seasoning at first extracts compounds from the oak – this is crucial for reducing bitterness – and then adds other compounds as fungal infections occur; Henri likened this to maturation of cheese. I placed the three samples of Château Phélan Ségur 2010 in order on the assumption that more seasoning gives more subtle results, but this turned out to be too simple. Certainly the sample from 12 month seasoned French oak seemed a bit harsh compared to the others, but the 30 month seasoning seemed to produce a better balanced and more subtle wine than the 55 month seasoning, which had stronger wood spices. A similar test of American oak with the Swanson Vineyards 2010 from Napa Valley gave an overwhelming impression of coconut and dill on the 24 month seasoned sample, still pretty powerful and pungent with 36 months, but finally damped down a little with 48 months. Here longer is better. I was reminded that Paul Draper at Ridge, who uses American oak for the Montebello Cabernet, told me that American oak has a bad reputation not because of its intrinsic properties but because it’s not treated in the same way as French oak (it’s usually sawn instead of split and not air dried).

Blind tasting to test the effects of time spent in barrels also fooled me, as I was working on the assumption that impression of oakiness would be in direct proportion to time in oak (especially allowing for the fact that shorter time in oak would be followed by time in bottle). But Phélan Ségur 2010 showed the most vanillin, and even a touch of coconut, after 8 months in oak, still a touch of vanillin after 16 months in oak, but the cleanest and purest expression of fruits after an intermediate 12 months. However, the 16  months showed overall the most classic and best balance. Clearly this is not a simple matter of absorption into the wine with time, but of more complex interactions. For example, ellagitannins increase with up to 250 days in barrels and then decline.

The percentage of new oak at least was predictable: new oak was quite evident on the nose and palate of a Château Branaire-Ducru example from 2010, with an example that had been matured in second year oak showing more direct and purer fruits; but the blend had more weight, and was softer, rounder, and more complex. An interesting demonstration of classic balance obtained by not going to extremes.

Along the way, a panel of four winemakers commented on their impressions. With a range of different backgrounds (Sandrine Garbay from Yquem, Edouard Labruyère from Jacques Prieur, Peter Sisseck from Dominio de Pingus, and Stephan von Neipperg from Château Canon-la-Gaffelière), it was not surprising that their opinions differed. In a demonstration of how individual palates can agree or disagree, I was interested to see that there was one winemaker with whom I agreed on everything, one with whom I disagreed on everything, and two who were in between. I know whose wine I’m buying in the future.

The Elevation of Cabernet

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You feel you are walking into a Mayan pyramid as you ascend the steps at Catena’s new winery in Mendoza, surrounded by vines, with a distant view of the Andes. Although the surrounding terrain feels fairly flat, the home vineyard is actually already at an elevation of 940 m, and other vineyards extend into the Andes at elevations up to 1500 m. The specialty here, as everywhere in Mendoza, is Malbec, but I was visiting to discuss Cabernet Sauvignon, for which Catena is a quality leader.

Catena Winery

Catena's new winery resembles a Mayan structure

It takes a certain nerve to plant Cabernet Sauvignon in your best vineyards when Malbec is so dominant, but Nicolás Catena told me, “I went to Napa and I fell in love with Cabernet Sauvignon. For me it was the best wine I have tasted in my life. I came to the conclusion that Cabernet Sauvignon was the king of the varieties.” Nicolás went on to explain that he made his first Cabernet Sauvignon to an international standard in 1990, but was devastated when a visiting consultant from Bordeaux said, “This tastes like a Cabernet Sauvignon from the Languedoc.” Nicolás decided that the only answer was to go to cooler areas: “So I took risks. One was that there would not be enough ripeness, it would be too cool. My technicians said I was crazy. Another danger is frost. My decision was based on assumptions that were not very precise. We planted Cabernet farther south and then went up in altitude. We decided – it took about six years – that Cabernet Sauvignon from cooler climates was better.”

Today Cabernet Sauvignon is grown in five vineyards at elevations from 800 m to 1480 m. A tasting of barrel samples from the 2011 vintages was a fascinating exercise in relating tannic structure to soil and climate. The wine from the lowest vineyard (Angélica at 800 m) was certainly the softest and least acidic. The wine from the highest vineyard (Adriana at 1480 m) was certainly the tightest, with mountain tannins hidden underneath the fruits but bringing more dryness to the finish. There wasn’t an exact correlation in between, but there was a perfect fit between my perception of total tannins and the measurement of polyphenols in each wine, which brings some comfort to the notion that numbers might mean something.

There are single vineyard Malbecs from these sources, but the Cabernets are always blended; this is due to market issues rather than any reflection on intrinsic quality or interest. Actually, most of these wines seemed likely to benefit from the blending process, although La Pirámide (940 m) seemed to be complete , and Nicasia (1180 m), the liveliest of the flight, seemed close to complete. The wines are blended for the top cuvée of the house, the eponymous Nicolás Catena Zapata, a blend with Malbec, and are also the source for the Catena Alta varietal Cabernet Sauvignon.

Catena also has a collaborative venture with Chateau Lafite in the form of Bodega Caro, whose lead wine is a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon with Malbec; there is also a second wine with reverse proportions, called Amancaya. Winemaker Estela Perinetti says that the varietal proportions have been changing in Caro. “In cooler years we use more Cabernet. At the beginning the Malbec had more rustic tannins so we needed to use more Cabernet Sauvignon. Then we got better tannic structure with the Malbec and we reversed. Now we are going back to more Cabernet Sauvignon because it gives better aging.”

All the wines had a mark of elegance, but I am inclined to think that the blends with Malbec are more interesting than the monovarietal, because its  smooth, supple tannins nicely complement the more rigid structure of Cabernet Sauvignon. Quite a difference from the effect of blending with Merlot, which gives a fleshier mid palate.

Tasting notes

Mendoza, Nicolás Catena Zapata, 2003

This vintage had a more or less average varietal composition for the blend, with 72% Cabernet Sauvignon to 28% Malbec. It shows the superficial smoothness of Malbec, that somewhat glossy surface, which at the moment is the dominant influence. The firm underlying structure shows the presence of Cabernet Sauvignon, and with time the Cabernet will no doubt emerge more clearly to strengthen the black fruit impression. Slightly nutty on the finish with tertiary development not yet in sight. 13.9% 90 Drink to 2022.

Mendoza, Cabernet Sauvignon, Catena Alta, 2003

Here you see the classic elegance of pure Cabernet Sauvignon with a nutty background to the black fruits and a touch of heat on the finish, which has some bite. The ripeness of the region makes this wine readily approachable at this age, but reflecting the character of the variety, it is a more linear than the Nicolas Catena Zapata blend of the same vintage. 14.2% 89 Drink to 2020.

Mendoza, Bodegas Caro 2002

Smooth black fruits are cut by subtle savory and even vaguely animal overtones. There’s a lovely balance, in terms of maturity perhaps equivalent to a fifteen year old Bordeaux. Smooth tannins give ripe, firm support to the fruits with a touch of nuts developing on the finish. You can see – if this is not too imaginative – the influence of Lafite. 13.8% 91 Drink to 2023.

Traditional Winemaking in Mendoza

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Visiting producers of Cabernet Sauvignon in Argentina and Chile last month, I spent some time trying to define regional and sub regional typicities. In Chile there’s a certain sense of restraint, perhaps making a halfway house between old Europe and the more forceful fruits associated with the New World style.  Maipo Valley was elegant, Colchagua more obviously structured, and Apalta the most silky. In Mendoza, well really in Luján de Cuyo since that’s where the serious Cabernet is to be found, the fruits are a bit more forward, but not nearly so obvious as, say, Napa. Both countries have a tendency towards varietal wines at entry level and blends at top level, although the blends are different: with Carmenere in Chile and with Malbec in Mendoza. In spite of that, I found the same difference between the varietal wines and the blends; where direct comparisons were possible, the varietal Cabernet has more of a linear purity, the blend smoother and broader and (to my mind) often more interesting with age.

But my attempts to define the wines in terms of terroir and climate were brought up short by a visit to Bodega Weinert in Mendoza, where winemaker Hubert Weber marches to the beat of a different drum. “The new style of winemaking is not very friendly for aging; if you concentrate on blackcurrant aromas and intensity, aging potential is reduced. Bodega Weinert is classic winemaking -I am not looking for intensity of young aromas, I am looking for complexity of flavor.  The wine spends up to five years in 2000 liter casks of old wood. Gran Reserva is the model,” he says. The lead wine is the Cavas de Weinert, a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Malbec, and Merlot. The blend stays constant in varietal composition, and is not produced unless all three varieties are of sufficient quality. It was declassified in 1995 because Hubert didn’t like the Cabernet, and in 1998, 2001, and 2005 because of problems with the Merlot. In some years, when one variety is exceptional, there may be a varietal bottling under the Estrella label.

Casks at Bodeha Weinert

Old casks are used to age the wines at Bodega Weinert

With no exposure to new oak, the wines make a distinctive impression: the primal quality of the fruits to come through, showing a savory, almost savage, impression with  age. And the wines certainly age: vintages were lively back to 1977 in a vertical tasting. Younger vintages seemed more dominated by Cabernet, older vintages more by Malbec. I also tasted two of the Estrella wines. A Cabernet Sauvignon from 1994 was still intense and barely showing the austerity of the variety; a Merlot from 1999 showed refinement, and seemed to be aging scarcely any more rapidly than Cabernet Sauvignon. As you go up the scale at Weinert, the wines start out more fruity with faintly savory overtones, and then at the top of the scale the fruits are still there of course (in fact they are more intense) but the savory and even animal notes become predominant. You might say that the wines show an increasingly traditional European flavor spectrum.

So what price terroir and climate as the defining features for common qualities in the wine? I decided my conclusions about different regions were all valid, just so long as the winemakers stayed within the bounds of a certain commonality of approach.  But once the consensus is broken, it’s the winemaker’s hand that shows.

Tasting Notes

Estrella Cabernet Sauvignon, 1994

The immediate impression is savory and developed, with notes of barnyard and gunflint, all integrated with the underlying sweet ripe fruits. There’s still a lot of intensity. This is a powerful wine with an interesting blend of savory and fruity elements, supported by balanced acidity and smooth, firm tannins. Notes of gunflint on the finish really bring the wine to life, with the savory to fruit balance at its peak, almost salty in its overall impression. Only at the very end do you see the austerity of pure Cabernet Sauvignon beginning to take over. No one could call this wine elegant – it has too much intensity for that – but the balance should allow it to continue to age for another decade at least. 14.5% 92 Drink to 2024.

Estrella Merlot, 1999

This Merlot bucks the trend for clay terroir by coming from relatively sandier soils. It spent three years in cask and ten years in concrete before bottling. Initially this seems full and ripe, showing Merlot’s characteristic presence on the mid palate, with the typical barnyard notes of developed Merlot and just a touch of pungent gunflint. But there’s a finer impression than comes from Merlot grown on its more traditional clay, with an impression of refinement that’s unusual for the variety, and there isn’t much impression this will be much shorter lived than the Estrella Cabernet. 91 Drink to 2027.

Cavas de Weinert 2004

This is the current release. The immediate impression are those characteristic savory, almost pungent, almost piquant, notes. Smooth and ripe on the palate, there’s a sensation of coated black fruits. Tannins underneath the fruits dry the finish, but overall the impression is quite glyceriny. There’s an openly delicious quality. 14.5% 89 Drink to 2022.

Cavas de Weinert 1994

Development has taken a slightly different path here, in fact the nearest parallel would be the 1977 Cabernet Sauvignon, as there are only some hints of savory notes and more of a delicate, almost perfumed impression. Apparently this wine has gone up and down, and appeared oxidized a year or so ago, when it was taken off the market for a while, but then it recovered. There’s a slight sense that the smooth fruits are beginning to dry out, allowing the tannins to show more as a dryness on the finish, which is a little nutty. 14.5% 88 Drink to 2016.

Cavas de Weinert 1983

Savory and animal with pungent overtones of gunflint, overall contributing to a slightly sweaty impression (perhaps a touch of Brett). The smooth palate tends to opulence but is beautifully cut by the savory overtones. This is at a perfect tipping point from fruity to savory (although it’s probably been here for a while). Hubert sees this wine as having become more dominated by Malbec over the past five years; indeed, it shows more Malbec as it develops in the glass, becoming smoother, more elegant, more perfumed, less animal. 93 Drink to 2019.

Cavas de Weinert 1977

We compared two bottles. Around 2004 one lot of wines was recorked for an importer who insisted on having fresh corks. The rest remain under original corks. The difference was like night and day. The wine under new corks showed slightly oxidized fresh fruits with hints of raisins; otherwise the wine remains youthful, with the evident fruits lacking savory overtones, and a little restricted in flavor variety. By contrast the wine with the original corks has more of that classic savory impression, with rather restrained fruits, kept lively by an acidic uplift. Matching the greater tertiary development, the color is also a little more garnet. Compared with the varietal Cabernet Sauvignon of the same year, the wine is a little more developed and a little less obvious. 92 Drink to 2019.

On the Uncertainty of Being White Burgundy

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I am more and more perplexed by the failure to identify the cause of premature oxidation in white Burgundy. A relatively rare problem when it first appeared in 1996, it appears even now still be gathering strength, with producers for whom I had not previously encountered it showing signs for the first time. I’ve been accustomed to think of Domaine Leflaive’s wines as among the longest lived in Puligny Montrachet – not very long ago I finished up some 1989s, which were still splendid. I have not had problems with premature oxidation of Leflaive wines until this week, when a 2005 Puligny Montrachet showed the unmistakable first signs. You might say that after seven years it’s not unreasonable to finish drinking up a communal Puligny, but I’ve had 12-15 years out of Leflaive’s premier crus, and ten out of the communal wine, without difficulty in the past. The disconcerting thing is that there was no sign of this coming: a year ago the wine was at its peak. Granted, I did not expect more than medium term aging (another four years perhaps), but now it seems that I have only a few months at most to finish my supply. White Burgundy as it ages has been one of the glories of France, but sic transit gloria mundi.

Tasting notes

March 2012    This wine has begun to slip in the past year, well before you might expect it to, with the first signs of premature oxidation. It’s still a delicious wine with that lovely, steely, character of Puligny as typified by Leflaive – always at the head of the commune – but there are distinct notes of madeirization appearing on nose and finish. While these are still (just) at the stage of adding complexity, it cannot be long before the wine becomes problematic. Before this problem I would have expected another 4 years.

January 2011    An absolutely top result for a village wine, and better than most growers’ premier crus. The characteristic smoke, steel, and gunflint is cut in this vintage by the underlying richness of the year. There isn’t the complexity of a premier cru, but the wine is in lovely balance, with the palate of peaches and cream cut by citrus. Minerality dominates the finish, but the richness suggests only medium term longevity.

Blending Cabernet: it’s the history, stupid

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In Bordeaux they will tell you that Merlot is the perfect partner for Cabernet Sauvignon, because the Cabernet doesn’t always ripen reliably on the left bank, and the fleshier tones of Merlot complement it by filling in the mid palate. In Napa they will tell you that Cabernet Sauvignon ripens so fully and reliably here that there is no need for Merlot; it makes a complete wine in itself. In Chile they used to follow the Bordeaux model by blending the Cabernet Sauvignon with Merlot; but then it turned out that most of the Merlot wasn’t Merlot, it was really Carmenere; they did not throw up their hands with horror, tear out the Carmenere and replace it with real Merlot; now instead they make a point of producing varietal Carmenere or of blending it with Cabernet Sauvignon. In Argentina, if they blend Cabernet Sauvignon, it’s usually with Malbec, which is the predominant black variety. In nineteenth century Bordeaux, Cabernet Sauvignon was usually blended  with Malbec and Carmenere as well as Cabernet Franc: the Malbec was replaced by Merlot, and the Carmenere disappeared after phylloxera struck. The blend everywhere is as much a matter of historical accident as a deliberate search for what varieties best complement one another. So the question is whether Cabernet Sauvignon still needs to be blended, given that the climate is warmer  in Bordeaux than it used to be, and that the other areas where it is planted are mostly warmer than Bordeaux anyway.  And if it does need to be blended, what other varieti(es) really give the best complexity, and are they necessarily the same in every region.

Even though Bordeaux has experienced warmer temperatures in the past decade, tastings of barrel samples have convinced me that the Cabernet Sauvignon makes a more interesting wine when it is blended. As a single varietal wine, it tends to have very pure, precise, but more linear flavors: it broadens out to become more interesting when blended. I believe the same is actually true in Napa, but not for the conventional reason. Young Napa Cabernets can be so bursting with fruit that you really do not see any need for any other variety to round out and complete the flavor profile. But wait a few years. As those primary fruits drop out, the wine begins to become more linear, more austere, the bare bones of Cabernet show more clearly, and you feel that by ten years of age it would very often be improved by some Merlot, which brings more interesting savory development.

A recent visit to Chile left me wondering about the rationale for blending Cabernet Sauvignon with Carmenere. If you think you have difficulties ripening Cabernet Sauvignon, try Carmenere – which usually harvests about one month after the Cabernet Sauvignon. That alone shows you why it became untenable in Bordeaux. Even in Chile, where the Cabernet ripens quite reliably, Carmenere can be questionable; it needs to be grown in the warmer sites. When it ripens fully, it develops a smooth, elegant palate, with tannins that seem more supple than Cabernet Sauvignon, and it brings elegance to a blend. When it does not ripen successfully, it has something of the same herbaceousness as Cabernet Sauvignon itself, so it’s something of a double or quits game.

Malbec is somewhere between Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon: not as fleshy as Merlot, but certainly smoother and more supple than Cabernet Sauvignon. Under peak conditions, Malbec may be a more interesting blending partner for Cabernet Sauvignon than Merlot, because the tannic structure is complementary: the more supple character of Malbec adds smoothness to the tighter structure of Cabernet Sauvignon. It doesn’t fill in on the mid palate in quite the same way, so the wine tends more to elegance than fruit-driven power.

For roughly a hundred years, from its rise following the phylloxera problem in the 1880s until a couple of decades ago, Merlot was the perfect blending partner for Cabernet Sauvignon. This is not true in the warmer climates of Napa and Chile, where the “Merlot collapse problem” describes the situation in which Merlot goes straight from green, herbaceous character to over-ripe jammy character, with too narrow a chance to catch it at the right point. I sometimes wonder whether Napa’s concentration on varietal Cabernet Sauvignon isn’t due as much to their difficulties with Merlot as to the attractions of the Cabernet. I am inclined to wonder whether Syrah would be a good choice, since it has richer tannins than Cabernet and can add a touch of aromatics that increases complexity, but Napa seems fixated on a bimodal view: it’s either Cabernet or it’s a Bordeaux blend. Syrah  might also do well in Argentina and Chile, but the accidents of history mean that Malbec and Carmenere are well entrenched. Come to that, it may be time for Bordeaux to reconsider, because in the 2009 and 2010 vintages, the Merlot became so ripe and alcoholic that in many cases it was impossible to blend it into the Grand Vin and it was relegated to the second wine. (An amusing paradox here, since that can make the second wine higher in alcohol than the Grand Vin, and the concept that higher alcohol goes with wines at higher appellation levels is well entrenched in the French hierarchy.) How about going back to Malbec or Carmenere in the Medoc – or maybe Syrah.

Bring Back the Merlot

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I got to thinking about Merlot when I was tasting Cabernet Sauvignon in Napa last week. Now I have never been much of a fan of Merlot, I’m not an enthusiast for Pomerol, for example, because I find those fat lush fruits less interesting than the more restrained flavors of Cabernet-dominated blends in the Medoc. And even though the last couple of vintages have had their problems in Napa, I think it’s a fair point that the extra ripeness that Cabernet achieves there may make it unnecessary to fill in the mid palate with Merlot the way that has been traditional in Bordeaux. Although at the Napa Premiere tasting of the 2007, 2008, and 2009 vintages, it seemed to me that more than a few of the Cabernets (especially from 2008 and 2009) cried out for some Merlot on the mid palate (or cried out for something closer to 20% than the 10% they actually had). But it wasn’t so much the younger wines that made me think about the virtues of Merlot as the older ones that I tasted during the week, ranging from 1985 through to 1995.

Many of the older wines had a really sparse quality, a sort of Spartan palate, with the bare bones of tannic structure poking through the black fruits of Cabernet. No matter how delicious and full of fruit those wines were when young,  age may not have exactly withered them, but certainly it allowed the full austerity of Cabernet show through. The other striking feature was that although they had certainly matured, with the fruits lightening and changing from primary to secondary aromas and flavors, in very few cases was there much evidence of that delicious savory quality to which Bordeaux turns when old. It seems to me that the development of savory qualities, extending to what the French call sous bois (forest floor) is needed to compensate for the lightening of fruit flavors as the wine ages. I have begin to wonder whether this is something that happens more naturally with Merlot, or with a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot, than with  Cabernet alone. I discussed a direct example of this previously in The Retarded Development of Cabernet Sauvignon. I think it is more difficult to find examples of pure Cabernet Sauvignon that has aged interestingly than blends.

Not that Merlot is dispensable in young wines; in can add refinement and elegance – but there’s a rub. Merlot is rarely planted on the best terroirs. If you ask in Bordeaux about the match between variety and terroir, the answer is usually that each variety is planted on the terroir that’s best for it. But the fact is that Cabernet is planted on the best terroirs – the gravel mounds – and Merlot is planted on the clay-rich soils where Cabernet won’t ripen. I have found two interesting exceptions to this rule, one in Bordeaux and one in Napa.

Chateau Palmer in Margaux is famous for having Merlot planted on gravel mounds, on terroirs that any other producer would have devoted to Cabernet. This goes back to an enthusiasm of Édouard Miailhe in the 1950s, when Merlot was heavily planted at Palmer, reaching as much as 60% of the vineyards. It was partially reversed at the end of the 1960s, bringing the level down to 47%, although this is still high compared to other producers. Palmer 1961, which represented one of the icon wines of the twentieth century, was only 30% Cabernet Sauvignon. No one knows why Palmer 1961 reached the heights of the first growths, but to my palate it was much in line with the 1959, 1962, and perhaps 1966 vintages – all of which had a very high proportion of Merlot planted on gravel, before it was cut back. Has Palmer ever achieved those heights again? Could this merely be coincidence?

I had a similar epiphany at Screaming Eagle when tasting barrel samples of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot to compare with the blend. Even within this small vineyard, the terroir varies from gravel at the eastern edge to more clay at the west of the vineyard. The Merlot came from a block of vines planted in 1987 on the best – for which read gravel – soils. Although Screaming Eagle has Cabernet on gravel and Merlot on clay, they are not slavishly devoted to the idea that they must follow the old Bordeaux rules, so there is some counter thinking, with Merlot on gravel, as well as some Cabernet on a clay plot that gives good results. The Merlot was elegant and refined, with a very fine grained texture that I don’t usually associate with the variety. But then again, I don’t get to taste much Merlot grown on gravel. I think that Merlot makes a significant contribution to the refined quality of Screaming Eagle.

Palmer and Screaming Eagle are, to my mind, hard examples to argue with. The problem with Merlot may be that, when it’s grown in company with Cabernet, the Cabernet usually gets first choice of terroirs. In Bordeaux, this means it’s never as refined. In Napa, the Merlot is often a bit too coarse – indeed, I wonder whether deficiencies in the Merlot are partly responsible for the focus on pure Cabernet Sauvignon. So bring back the Merlot, I say, plant some on your best terroirs, and make wines that will be truly refined when young but will mature into a gracefully savory old age.

A Lament for White Burgundy

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When I started drinking white Burgundy, I used to think of communal wines as reaching their peaks after four or five years, premier crus around eight to ten, and grand crus for ten years and up. Today those ranges seem hopelessly optimistic. Even aside from the problem with premature oxidation that has plagued white Burgundy since the 1996 vintage, with rare exceptions, the wines no longer seem to have that staying power. I wonder whether my memories of drinking old but glorious white Burgundy are simply nostalgic.

There is a curious parallel between the problems with California Chardonnay of which I complained recently (A Sonoma Chardonnay that Failed the Reality Check) and my experiences with De Montille’s Les Caillerets from Puligny Montrachet. When De Montille started making this wine I was delighted to find that it followed the tradition of winemakers such as Leflaive for expressing the steely minerality that characterizes Puligny.

It seemed to me that the early vintages – the first I tasted was 1999 – showed something of a mark of a red winemaker adjusting to white winemaking, as they all had just a little too much obvious oak. But with 2002 I thought De Montille hit his stride as a white winemaker; my initial tasting note, in 2005, found steely tones and precise fruit flavors, a worthy counterpart to the crystalline red Volnays which for which I had previously known De Montille.

The wine developed beautifully for the next few years. Early in 2010 it even seemed close to Grand Cru in standard, fruits becoming fuller, but still showing those steely underpinning. But during the year the steely minerality was replaced by increasingly developed fruits until the overall flavor spectrum seemed almost stewed. The last bottle, last week, actually started out well, rich but restrained, but in the glass turned to stewed and exotic fruits with a sensation of over-ripeness, and then the acidity became pressing rather than refreshing.

Other vintages have not lasted even as long. The 1999 appeared to have reached the end of its life by 2006, although that was more a problem with premature oxidation than over development of the fruits. The 2004 vintage was showing intense tropical fruits when I tasted it in  2007. The 2005 vintage was becoming a bit over phenolic by 2009, by last year it was showing signs of beginning to descend into a blowsy old age. When I tasted the 2009 a few weeks ago, it showed precisely delineated fruits, but with a floral, perfumed impression that reminded me more of Grand Cru Alsace than top Burgundy.

It seems to me that there is a trend for vintages to peak earlier and earlier, making transition from a steely citrus flavor spectrum to over ripe stone fruits. What alarms me most about this is that you can’t see it coming: the transition occurs quite abruptly. The only conclusion I can form is that I shall have to stop buying white Burgundy for the cellar and switch to purchasing only small amounts for current consumption. This does not make me happy.

A Voyage Around Arrowood

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When I was in Sonoma last week, I visited all three of the properties where legendary winemaker Richard Arrowood has made wine, ending up with a meeting with the man himself. This I undertook with some trepidation. Earlier in the day, I had been warned that as well as winemaking, he is famous for his gun collection, so I took great care not to arrive too early in case I was mistaken for a trespasser. When I arrived (exactly on time) I was greeted by Richard Arrowood with his arm in a sling, the result of an accident when he was requalifying for his concealed gun permit. But to go back the beginning.

I started out at Chateau St. Jean, where Richard was the first winemaker after it was founded in 1973. “The owners asked me to do vineyard designates like the Burgundians do,” he recollects, and Chateau St. Jean became famous for the single vineyard Chardonnays; at one time there were as many as nine. Although these attracted the most attention, there was actually more red wine production than white, with the focus on Cabernet Sauvignon. Chateau St. Jean changed ownership when it was sold to Beringer in 1996.

The year that Arrowood left, in 1990, Chateau St. Jean produced the first vintage of its Cinq Cepages, which as its name suggests is a Cabernet-dominated blend with all five of the classic Bordeaux varieties. Until 2007, the wine carried a varietal label as Cabernet Sauvignon, but that was removed as of 2008. “This had been the intent from the beginning. We put Cabernet Sauvignon on the label at the beginning because we were so closely identified with white wine,” says current winemaker Margo Van Staaveren, who has been at Chateau St Jean almost since the beginning. The wine is definitely softer these days and appears intended for immediate gratification; I tasted vintages from 2003 to 2008, all of which seemed pleasant, but lacking in the stuffing required for longevity.

Richard had bought land and built a winery, called Arrowood, in 1987. From 1990 his main focus was producing wines there. The operation followed the same model as Chateau St. Jean in sourcing wine from growers. Its own vineyards are just 9 acres planted with Bordeaux varieties used for blending with Cabernet Sauvignon; it was known at the winery as Richard’s spice box. The top wines here, which are not distinguished by price, are the Monte Rosso single vineyard designate and the Réserve Spéciale, a blend that is made more years than not, but not every year, from sources that may change depending on the vintage. I tasted several of the vintages that Arrowood made before he left in 2010. (Arrowood was sold in 2004 to Mondavi, and then after Constellation bought Mondavi, had a troubled period when it changed hands more than once, ending up with Jackson Family Estates in 2010). The Monte Rosso wines had all the power of a top vineyard and I generally preferred them to the Réserve Spéciale. The latter was interesting because the older vintages (before 1998) were blends, but the more recent vintages are 100% Cabernet Sauvignon. Even allowing for development with age, I preferred the blends: only one of the pure Cabernet vintages struck me as being as complete as the blended wines. I did not taste the most recent vintages, which following Jackson Family Estate’s takeover are now being made at Jackson’s central facility in Napa Valley.

Finally, on to Amapola Creek, which is Richard’s latest venture. He had purchased the site in 2000 and planted the vineyard with the intention of selling the grapes, but then decided to make the wine himself. The 100 acre ranch just below the famous Monte Rosso vineyard is planted with 20 acres of French clones of Cabernet Sauvignon and a little Petit Verdot, Syrah, and Grenache. I tasted all vintages of the Cabernet since the first (2005, which is 100% Cabernet; later vintages also include a little Petit Verdot), and liked the precision in the fruits; the only thing detracting from complete refinement is the high alcohol (around 15%). The style was more similar to the Arrowood Monte Rosso (perhaps not surprising considering the proximity of the vineyards) than to the Réserve Spéciale. It will be fascinating in future years to see how Amapola Creek Cabernet Sauvignon compares with the Arrowood Monte Rosso.

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.