Showing posts with label Napa Valley. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Napa Valley. Show all posts
Sunday, April 1, 2012
The Best Wine for the Moment
I'm a snob. Particularly when it comes to sparkling wine.
Not much of a secret, really. I write ranting posts like this one. I've yelled at family members. Things like, "it's not Champagne, dammit!" have burst from my lips... words before thoughts, it seems. Never do I intend to come off like a pretentious jerk-ass. It's sort of a bubbly version of Tourette's.
Furthermore, I find myself- inadvertently- turning my nose at most big California producers. For no good reason. I guess I just want to put my dollars towards something obscure, with little financial backing or marketing. Maybe I'm just cheering for the underdog. The small market team.
To summarize, when it comes to bubbly, I have no verbal filter, and an animosity towards capitalism. Guess that makes me the sparkling wine equivalent of Steve Heimoff talking politics on Facebook.
So, why did I find myself purchasing, opening, and drinking this bottle on Saturday?
Domaine Chandon is a Napa Valley-based (Yountville) sparkling wine producer owned by Champagne giant Moët & Chandon. They produce nice, serviceable sparkling wines that retail around $15-20. That is to say, wines that- due to my hubris- I tend to avoid like half-priced sushi.
But sometimes, the bottles we would normally never choose are the absolutely perfect selections for the occasion. My wife and I drank this Saturday morning in some mimosas (sans the orange juice) to kick off our five year anniversary. Chandon was one of the wineries we visited on our honeymoon in Napa. The pink-tinged bubbly, a Blanc de Noirs (meaning "white from blacks", indicating it's a wine made entirely from "black" grapes: Pinot Noir and Pinot Meunier), was rich, satisfying, and a spectacular way to remind us of the joy of the simpler times. Back then, we didn't carry the obligations we carry now, and I certainly didn't give nearly as much a damn about what we were drinking.
At that particular moment in time, there was no wine more appropriate than a Domaine Chandon Blanc de Noirs. It will always share an emotional connection with me. Basking in the afterglow on a pleasant April evening in the Napa Valley, I sipped with my new best friend for life... completely oblivious to how much of a snob I would become.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Napa Misses the Mark
On my first trip to Napa (just about four years ago, to the date), I embraced the valley. It embraced me, planted a warm, sloppy kiss right on my wine-stained lips, and slipped me a little tongue-
Granted, I still had some hair on my head back then, and I was benefitting from a post-wedding build, necessary to wedge myself into the big day's tuxedo. Perhaps Napa couldn't resist-
But my (swiftly) fading looks are inconsequential. The point is that the Napa Valley- it's wines, it's sweeping vistas, and it's intoxicating charm- got my panties in a wad. I had no idea wine of such quality existed. Like being ensnared in an awkward teenage infatuation, I'd fallen in love with, become obsessed with, the fermented grape. And like any first kiss, particularly if it was shockingly good, my experience in Napa has imprinted my soul and changed my life forever.
So, any time I hear of friends or neighbors heading out for the first time, I get a little geeked up. I become a pro bono travel agent. I send emails documenting places to visit that make my longest ramblings here seem shorter than Charlie Sheen tweets (and the emails are twice as maniacal). I get into this frenzy because I can't wait for others to experience what I did. "They'll finally get it," I think. "They'll understand why I'm psychotic. They may come home psychotic, too. We can be psychotic together."
Yet, when folks return and tell me they have "no desire to go back to Napa", I'm admittedly a bit taken aback. A lot taken aback, and that's a ton, because I'm not even sure what that saying means. Naturally, I'm inclined to pry.
My neighbors just got back from a trip, and they felt that everything was very expensive. Yes, Napa can be expensive. They mentioned $25 tasting fees. Hmm... more than I remember paying. No big deal, those fees can easily be neutralized by the purchase of a bottle. Tasting fees are always credited towards purchase, right?
Nope. But the fiscal raping was not even the worst thing I heard. "They didn't tell us anything about the wines. We didn't learn anything. They just shoved a sheet of tasting notes in front of us and told us what was on special." Oh, you dirty bastards.
Now, let me go on the record and say that my "facts" are based on anecdotal evidence. I can't say first-hand that any of this occurred. But I don't think these are vindictive folks, and I honestly believe they were met with disappointment. I'm not going to name the wineries in question, but I was able- in order to validate some of the story- visit some completely random websites: non-specified Napa winery #1, non-specified Napa winery #2, and non-specified Napa winery #3, and I confirmed that tasting fees range from $15-25 a pop. Why not just buy a bottle at that price? Rather, my friends paid $30-$50 to taste five or so small pours, then spent another $30 on a bottle. All-in-all, they traveled across the country, rented a car, drove to the proprietor's place of business, got zero education and experience, and paid $60 for a $30 bottle of wine. So much for the value of cutting out the middle-man... and the warm fuzzies towards wine country.
Listen, I understand that these places have a lot of overhead. I know that many tasting rooms thrive on tasting fees. But we're talking some pretty heavy-hitters here. I'm sure Beringer and Mondavi don't keep the lights on with tasting fees. Not when they're producing millions of bottles per year. So why not evangelize? These two spots put Napa on the map. In fact, Robert Mondavi virtually invented the American fine wine industry. The large vintners should be creating wine consumers for life, not scaring them off in the name of a quick buck.
And if what I heard about no education is true, then shame on these wineries. They've perpetuated the mystifying nature of wine. I subscribe to the notion that people warm to what is understood and familiar. If they don't know what they're drinking, then they're probably not going to buy it, whether the taste costs $0.50 or $50.
I understand this scenario is not that case with all Napa wineries. I'm lucky to know some really terrific people in Napa, from winery personnel to PR folks to growers themselves. I can confirm that some are educating the eager masses, sharing their best, and using the tasting rooms to convert skeptics, sell bottles, and make customers for life. But how can their reputations not suffer when the biggest and brightest in the market- the standard-bearers for America's most celebrated wine region- are actively participating in screwing up a huge opportunity and alienating potential wine drinkers?
Hit the mark next time, Napa. It could pay dividends in the long run. Connect with your tasting room customers. Educate them. And please don't rip them off because they simply don't know better. Make out with their thirst for knowledge like you're making out with Mariah Carey on a red carpet at some undisclosed Nickelodeon event. Because that would be awesome. And a little weird. But certainly not disappointing.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Vintage 2007
On this date, four years ago, I did something big; something of significance. No, I didn't get butt-cheek implants, giving my derrière a more supple fullness that could make a pair of Wal-Mart slacks look like they were purchased from Target.
Unfortunately, this date has nothing to do with me starting to take Rogaine. That ship has sailed. And now, well, let's just say I'm saving a fortune on barber shop expenses.
Even this blog- on March 31, 2007- was nearly two years prior to its genesis. Some say the internet was better back then.
What did happen? Well, I married this young lady:
The wedding- a raucous affair, complete with a grab bag of hijinks, tomfoolery, brouhaha, and no shortage of monkeyshines- preceded a somewhat unpleasant cross-country flight, but an exceedingly incredible vacation... perhaps the tipping point for me.
We went to Napa Valley for our honeymoon. Before this trip, I'd drank plenty of wine. I knew it was something that should be consumed with food. Obviously, there existed a flame of interest in my spirit; otherwise, we would've been sitting on a beach somewhere, turning pink while downing umbrella drinks.
But wine country- the natural beauty and the endless vines- it sparked something: an "itch", so often described by those who visit. And of course, there was the product itself. Never had I realized that wines could be so good. I'd been missing out, and akin to the vows taken just a couple days earlier, a new chapter in my life had begun.
The wine had become my muse. But a secondary one, as not even the finest glass of juice could come close to the tireless support, encouragement, and inspiration my wife has provided. Writing a wine blog- relentlessly, whether folks read or not- requires a certain strength from the other half. There are the late nights writing. The occasional "over tasting", resulting in both laziness and snoring. Not to mention the expense. This is, more than anything else, a labor of love.So I raise a glass of 2007 Duckhorn Merlot to my lovely Heather. This bottle not only bears the vintage of our union, but its producer was also the first place we visited in Napa. So similar to what rests in my glass, the past four years have been unique, complex, occasionally sour, even more rarely bitter, yet- far more often- totally satisfying, and utterly intoxicating. Whether I'm talking glasses of wine or years of marriage, here's to four more...
...
Okay, that "here's to four more" was a joke. I thought this one was getting a little mushy.
Cheers, babe!
Monday, December 28, 2009
Napa Eve
Anniston, AL - We were hurtling down I-20 in my brother-in-law's 4-wheel-drive sleigh, returning from a Christmas Eve visit to relatives in Birmingham. Had a wonderful time with the wife's family...copious amounts of ham, quality time with my adorable- if not overly vivacious- niece, and a showering of gifts, including a sleek Vinturi instant aerator (more experimenting with that later).
But my gears had already switched from laser-focus on ham and family (let's call it "hamily" for short) to the neighbors' annual Christmas Eve party. I could already taste the reserve wines we always bust open to celebrate the season. Anniston, Alabama might has well have been China. Was the first cork being popped? What was I missing? Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego? (the last question had little to do with the moment described, but I'm still unclear about it.)
Eventually, we got there, met with the expected level of revelry/joviality/hullabaloo/mirth: an already well-lubricated crowd, unusual treats (including big Bill Blank's famous chopped liver paté and steamer clams- lovingly referred to as "piss clams"- to be shelled, dipped in broth to remove the sand, and sloshed in melted butter before devouring). Liar's Dice games were heating up (which- for the record- we were playing long before A Really Goode Job). Dean Martin crooning over the speakers...oh, and the wine.
Seems like Napa Valley was the focus of the evening.
The first one opened, which I missed, was a 2004 Rubicon Estate Gustave Niebaum Captain's Reserve Merlot, 2004. This is a wine from the Niebaum-Coppola (as in Francis Ford Coppola) family of wines...FFC has some ownership in Rubicon Estate, which is known for some pretty heady and expensive wines. However, not only could I not get a taste of it, but I couldn't find any information, pricing, or anything about it online. I'm pretty sure it's expensive, though. If you had some, tell me about it, you wine hogs.
The next bottle to go through the paces was a V. Sattui 2005 Morisoli Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon. I know the '04 got a score of 93 in Wine Spectator, so- despite my distaste for wine scoring- I hoped it'd give an indication that this was pretty good. Oh, and the $50+ price tag added pressure to the wine's success.
Baby Steps - When the label of an American wine designates a vineyard (in this case, "Morisoli"), then 95% of the grapes used to make the wine have to come from that vineyard. When an AVA, or "American Viticultural Area" is listed on the label- in this case, Napa Valley- then 85% of the grapes have to come from vineyards within that AVA. When the varietal (Cabernet Sauvignon) is listed, 75% or more of the wine must be from that grape. Finally, when a year is listed (2005), 95% of the grapes have to come from that growing year. Confused? Wait until you start learning about French wine! Anyway, from the label, we can deduce that 95% of the grapes came from Morisoli Vineyard, within Napa Valley. Of those, at least 75% had to be Cabernet Sauvignon, and 95% had to be grown in 2005. However, I'm guessing 100% came from Morisoli in 2005.
Okay, now I have a headache. Anyway, this Cab from Morisoli demonstrated flavors typical to the "Rutherford Bench" area of Napa Valley: peppery, spicy, and herbaceous, but with complex dark fruit layers underneath. The wine was incredibly concentrated and extracted, which I've noticed is a pretty consistent theme with Sattui's wines. The tannins were still pretty fierce, and I think it could have gone another few years in the bottle, maybe more. That being said, I think it was very good, but probably better with a big piece of lamb or beef than by itself.
By this time, the dice game was getting intense. We needed something a little less complex. We went for the Provenance Vineyards 2004 Rutherford Cabernet Sauvignon. Total fruit bomb, but with a nice balance of tannin, alcohol, and oak. Good wine, and probably worth the $40, but I have a hunch you could find something from Australia with a similar profile for ten bucks less. Regardless, I know Provenance has a very good pedigree for Merlot and Cab, and I think this strong effort was no exception. It was also interesting to compare a 2004 Cab and a 2005 Cab made with grapes from regions very close to each other. Was it vintage or winemaking defining such different styles? One of the many reasons why the grape on the label can sometimes say very little about the wine inside.
All in all, it was a perfect way to end the evening and put a bullet on the joyous occasion...
...yet, another notch in the (expanding) belt of excess. The January purge can't come soon enough.
Okay. Yes it can.
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