Showing posts with label terroir. Show all posts
Showing posts with label terroir. Show all posts
Friday, October 28, 2011
The Champagne Diet
Once again, I'm on some sort of diet. "Don't call it a 'diet'," my in-shape friend said, cramming another chicken wing into his gaping maw, pieces of poultry flotsam flecking my anemic plate of vegetables. "It's 'eating right'."
Have another wing, you rabbit-metabolism SOB.
But, he's right. I can't call eating better a diet. It really is a matter of making better choices, and doing them regularly; not as a quick fix.
And usually, "eating right" consists of cutting out all the things a Southerner with Irish roots who loves Italian food thrives upon: fried vittles, pork fat, pasta, bread, cheese, potatoes, and...
Alcoholic beverages. Beer and wine. The good stuff, packed with calories. Diet cola and Bacardi rum are given no quarter in my household, and the combination of the two is about as appealing as Lindsay Lohan + Playboy ("hey mac, don't forget to airbrush out the crack pipe and 99¢ Jack-in-the-Box tacos").
Therein lies the rub. Tomorrow (well, today) is International #ChampagneDay. Wine lovers around the world will pop corks and celebrate the hallowed home of sparkling wine. Then, they'll get on Twitter to discuss, share, and enjoy with hundreds of others in the nerdiest way possible: on Twitter; marking their tweets with the 'hashtag' #ChampagneDay, creating a searchable, consistent thread connecting all the myraid conversation.
But, despite the ribbing, these Twitter tastings do create a community around a common theme: drinking, then posting regrettable comments online. It's the American way!
Never being one to thumb my nose at America, I think I'll be taking a temporary break from carbohydrate purgatory to indulge in perhaps my favorite beverage. Maybe this one?
Schramsberg furthermore makes all it's wines in the "traditional method" (or Méthode Champenoise, if you don't mind irking at least one Frenchman). Basically, this means that the grape juice is fermented into a still (non-sparkling) wine, and then added to the bottle with a mixture of yeast and some sugar, creating a second fermentation in the bottle, resulting in the fizz. This is the most classical (and most expensive) way to make a sparkling wine, and it results in a product of superior quality, taste, and complexity.
Alas, if I were to consume the jewel of Napa's sparkling crown, I would not be properly celebrating Champagne. See, Champagne is a region of France, to the East-Northeast of Paris. The name "Champagne", although so often used to describe a style of wine (and Champagne and other sparklers are most certainly wine), technically has nothing to do with the fact that the wine has bubbles.
Wines from Champagne are called "Champagne" because it is believed they express the place itself. The French call the concept terroir. Certain specific places have the climate, the soil, the orientation to the sun, the... je ne sais quoi to create great wine, and those very places are felt to be much more important than the grapes themselves.
In the States, we've been conditioned to buy wine based on the grape variety on the label. Not a problem, but it has rendered the concept of terroir difficult to us. However, just like "San Francisco Sourdough" from Albuquerque is not really San Francisco Sourdough, sparkling wines from anywhere other than Champagne, France, are not "Champagne".
Granted, some readers may know me as a bit of a Champagne-elitist, avoiding the heavily marketed stuff in favor of lesser-known "farmer fizz". While true, I've also been known to wear wolf shirts. And anyone who runs with the wolf shirt pack is most likely an indiscriminate drinker. Like this guy:
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| (photo credit: kotaku.com) |
As am I. In my wolf shirt. With bottle in hand. Wanna fight about it?
Sorry, sorry. That was the wolf shirt talking. I love you all, and hope you'll pop a bottle as well tomorrow (today). Happy #ChampagneDay!
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Why I love "United Slurps"
If you spent most of your days in Los Angeles, why would you venture out beyond your warm, smoggy amniotic sac to catch a buzz? Tons of great and affordable* bars in town, wine shops offering all the small production, craft wines that don't leave the state of California (which accounts for 90% of the nation's wine production), and only a couple hours drive from world-class wine regions like the Santa Ynez Valley, Santa Rita Hills, and Paso Robles. Plus, when your average speed of travel is 1 mile per hour, drinking in the car is probably not even dangerous. Nay, it's encouraged.
*denotes sarcasm. I blame you hipsters for driving up the price of crappy Pabst Blue Ribbon. Quit drinking it to be ironic.
Okay, "to catch a buzz" is a crude way of defining what the folks at Swirl, Smell, Slurp are trying to do (check out our collaboration HERE). The enigmatic "She" and "He" of this operation have struck out on a quest to taste wines from all 50 states. Dubbed the "United Slurps of America", this painstaking process involves contacting wineries nationwide, procuring product, navigating the logistical minefield that is state-by-state shipping law, booking local bloggers and other rascals to themselves wrangle identical product, tasting (or "slurping", as they say, though I've never been complimented on my audible slurping ability at any wine tasting outside of Woodstock, GA), evaluating, writing, and posting. All this while being honest, but positive enough to maintain interest in participation from potential winemakers.
Sounds like a lot of trouble. Trouble that's greatly appreciated. These folks don't need to be venturing out. Hell, they may be ridiculed for such actions. Why go to the trouble to drink the pedestrian plonk of fools: wistful wine lovers trying in vain to reproduce France, Italy, and California closer to home?
But maybe it's not that simple. Maybe the winemakers and vineyard managers in West Texas, in Michigan's Leelanau Peninsula, in Delaware County, Pennsylvania, and on Georgia's Dahlonega Plateau are trying to do something unique. Maybe they're working the land with unique grapes like Seyval Blanc, Chambourcin, and Tempranillo ...trying to find what fits each area's unique climate, geography, and soil. Perhaps all the toil and effort (which is MORE THAN SIGNIFICANT in the process from grape to glass) is simply intended to express...terroir.
Is there beauty in a wine that expresses- exactly- a vine-draped piece of dirt in Iowa? Isn't the fact that no other bottle of wine on earth can truly reproduce what comes from that infinitely unique square of terrain a thing of beauty? Something worth exploring? At the very least, worth trying? We can make broad assumptions- based on our limited knowledge and experience- of where a wine should find its genesis, but we simply cannot KNOW without a personal, sensory evaluation. We may not realize what we're missing out there. Wine is the ultimate in subjectivity, and the notes, recommendations, and even warnings of others simply cannot decide for us.
So I applaud Swirl, Smell, Slurp for undertaking the ultimate evaluation; for not going the easy or familiar route and approaching the bounty of America without pretense or expectation. I'm proud of Georgia. Ben Simons is proud of Texas. Grace Hoffman is proud of Iowa. Shannon & Cortney Casey are proud of Michigan. Dezel Quillen is proud of Virginia. Brian Kirby is proud of all of the "other 46". And I think I speak for these wine lovers and the producers in our respective states when I say, "thanks for stopping by."
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Temecula, CA: Not founded by the Germans
While slumming out on the left coast, I figured that being an hour or so from the Temecula Valley obligated me to visit. Besides, my winey-senses (similar to "spidey-senses", but less super heroish and more likely to cause weight gain and staining of the teeth) were going bananas. And on that note, I hoped the wine I was seeking wouldn't smell too much like bananas, a sign of ancillary products of fermentation- namely esters- giving those aromas...
...yeah, you've just been bamboozled into a little education on fermentation. Zing!
Anyway, I wanted to do a little research on the area before I arrived. Temecula's just not on the map like Napa, Sonoma, or Central Coast. However, nearby visitors from Los Angeles and San Diego frequent the tasting rooms, much like Atlanta visitors do with Dahlonega wineries on the weekends. Oddly enough, due to its proximity to San Diego, I was surprised to hear that Temecula and its wine industry was not founded by the Germans. Actually, some of California's first wine grapes were grown to the west in Mission San Juan Capistrano. In the 1960's, modern grape growing and winemaking began in Temecula (at the south end of the Temecula Valley, which runs northwest up to Riverside). Now, there are over 20 wineries in the area (but unfortunately for Mr. Burgundy, not a freshly-made glass of Scotch in site).
Energized by the nourishing fat coursing through my veins from an In-N-Out Double Double, Animal-Style, I mustered the energy to visit three local wineries, all recommendations sourced to me by SoCal natives: Ponte Estate, Baily Winery, and Hart Winery, all situated off the same stretch of Rancho California Rd, east of the town of Temecula. No matter what the wines ended up being, the scenery was worth the visit. A view panning up from the twisted old vines (some 50 or more years old) showcases the snow-capped Sierra Nevadas. I had to remind myself that this is the same nation where I live; everything is so different from the East Coast.
As for said wines, there were a few pretty consistent themes: big, ripe, tannic, and uncomplicated. There were a few funkier numbers, including Hart's Tempranillo (the main grape in Spanish Red Rioja, a leather and farm funk explosion) and Mourvèdre (a grape of France's Rhône valley, known for its tobacco nuances and earthiness). Baily also had a pretty serious Meritage (a Bordeaux-style blend, meaning a red that must be comprised of only Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Merlot, Petit Verdot, and/or Malbec; and only the first three in this case). However, most were heavy on fruit aromas and flavors and 14%ish alcohol levels, indicative of a hot climate. That being said, the acidity was pretty good in many, suggesting that the cooling patterns at night from the high mountains and breezes from the Pacific clearly do their work to keep the grapes from over-ripening. In the vineyards, many grapes fatten up, but the most prevalent seemed to be Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cab Franc, Syrah, Petite Sirah, Tempranillo, Sauvignon Blanc, Viognier, Roussanne, and some Italian varieties, including Sangiovese and Barbera.
In the end, having successfully spit out over 20 different wines from 3 different producers (the roads heading through the coastal ranges are no place for a wine-buzz behind the wheel), I determined that Temecula was worth the visit. I'm sure many readers of this blog (okay, both readers of this blog) get out to Los Angeles metro or San Diego for business or pleasure, and as I'm a believer in drinking local, I recommend taking the quick trip to this area. They're doing what they should be doing: making fun, accessible wines that cater to a heavy tourism business, and pricing them (for the most part) within reason, meaning almost all under $30 a bottle. They're not trying to be Napa; they're not trying to be Bordeaux. The winemakers of Temecula are producing from what the soil, the climate, and the weather provide (aka, the terroir), just like the best producers in Napa, in France, in Georgia, and- yes- in Germany, too. Prost!
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