Showing posts with label syrah. Show all posts
Showing posts with label syrah. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Wine Blogging Wednesday #71: What the crap is all this "Rhône" mess?!
Do you get irritated by words with accents, umlauts, lines through the "o", "CCCP" standing for "The Soviet Union" somehow, tildes, backwards accents, the Greek alphabet as a whole, and those damn hieroglyphics? Maybe you don't. Perhaps you're more "worldly" than the rest of us jackasses. Okay, more worldly than me. Sorry I called most of you jackasses.
To me, if it's difficult to find on the keyboard; if I have to access the "character map", copy, then paste (making sure the font is consistent), well... it's irritating. Listen; I'm not language xenophobe, and I get and respect the need to accuracy. But that doesn't mean I can't bitch about it.
Compound the irritation when someone not only takes a word that requires a funky rooftop above the "o", but slings it around in his lexicon like a warm and familiar word that everyone will understand. "Here, we're pouring a classic Rhône blend. Mmm, it just smells like a Rhône blend, doesn't it? Oh, you don't know what a 'Rhône blend' is? Well, I guess I have the psychological upper-hand at this wine tasting, don't I, shit-for-brains?" (for the record, "shit-for-brains" is one of those very familiar terms I was talking about that everyone knows. )
My point- which absolutely required graphic cursing- is that wine folks all-too-often throw out obscure terms and industry-speak to the curious masses that are assumed to be commonplace. Blogs are probably the worst about this. I bet this blog is terrible about it. And sure, wine lovers are likely the ones reading wine blogs (actually, it's probably just other wine bloggers). But I think we get too comfortable speculating on what our audience already knows, without taking the time to explain what the terms mean. Coupled with the fact that many of those terms are foreign and contain weird slashes and dashes and flip-flaps only exasperates the problem.
When in doubt, a little education never hurts. Remember: it's okay to be geeky. People actively seeking wine blogs and articles are probably into that stuff. But assumptions can be very alienating. Subscribing to this proviso, I will probably lose all the super-knowledgeable folks with the rest of this post. But I'd rather hope one eager vinophile gets learned on some tight science. Some things just deserve a thorough explanation.
And such is the case with the Rhône. Ever heard the term "Rhône blend" and wondered what that meant? Much like "Bordeaux blend" or "Super Tuscan", a "Rhône blend" is something thrown around in the tasting rooms of California, Washington State, and Australia, among others. But what does it mean? First off, the Rhône basically refers to the Rhône river valley in southeastern France. It's a very famous wine region, containing some sub-regions that you may recognize: Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Côte-Rôtie, Hermitage, and Condrieu, to name a few. The region is basically broken into two geographic sections: the Northern Rhône and the Southern Rhône... I know; it's not very creative. Maybe they should've brought in Big Ten Conference big wigs to name the regions (tongue planted firmly in cheek).
Anyway, the Northern part focuses on dry red wines made primarily from the Syrah grape, and the most-notable whites made from Viognier (and some from Roussanne). In the Southern section (sorry, I just can't say "Rhône" anymore, and I'm sick of the extra keystroke to put that hat on the "o"), Grenache [Noir] is king of the reds, but you'll see tons of different grapes, including the aforementioned Syrah, along with Mourvèdre, Cinsault, and Carignan (among others). On the white side, there's Viognier and Roussanne, but there's also Marsanne, Grenache Blanc, Picpoul, Bourboulenc, and on and on. Confused yet? Me too.
So let's simplify: the phrase "Rhône style blend" is probably used by someone not in the Rhône. But when a winemaker in Santa Barbara County, California or Walla Walla, Washington says that, he/she means that it's a wine made from a blend of traditional Rhône grapes. That's it. Tasting a Syrah with a little Viognier blended in? You'll probably impress someone if you describe that as a "classic Northern Rhône" blend. Or irritate someone. Depends on the person.
In Australia, they grow a lot of Syrah, but it goes by a different name: Shiraz. Same grape, different name. Those wacky Aussies; don't let them trip you up. Down under, you'll see a lot of bottles labeled "GSM". That's short for "Grenache/Shiraz/Mourvèdre". That is a great example of a "Southern Rhône" blend. Or maybe you'll run into a white wine made from Roussanne, Marsanne, and some Grenache Blanc. Same deal.
Stateside, you'll see quite a few varietal bottlings. Blends just aren't as hip yet here. Syrah is the predominant variety I see (though sales are slipping). You'll also probably find some Grenache on its own, Viognier, Roussanne, maybe a Mourvèdre or two, and that odd Carignan. As for the 20+ other predominant grapes that grow in the Rhône... well, you shop at interesting places if you see many (or any) of them grown domestically and bottled by themselves.
Well, there you go. Pretty sure I scared 99% of folks off with all that technical mess. What a boring post. But I couldn't throw phrases out without an explanation. Hopefully, just one person was eager enough to learn something new. If that's the case, then all the "ô" typing, the hyperlinks, and the damn, damn italicizing was worth it.
This edition of "Wine Blogging Wednesday"- something I accidentally only seem to participate in once every 6 months or so- is hosted by Winecast. Wine bloggers across the world write on a common theme. This month's is "Rhônes not from the Rhône". I'm pretty sure I bastardized the topic a bit, but I guarantee you don't want to read tasting notes here. Ever. Anyway, thanks to the host. Rhône wines- either from there or made elsewhere from the traditional grapes- really are fantastic, and worth a few too many words.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
The Iceman Cometh
With all due to respect to San Antonio Spurs great George "Iceman" Gervin, I'm talking about the bitter cold in Atlanta, not the quiet storm that is a perfectly-executed finger roll.
Ah, the finger roll...like a slam dunk for the Yacht Rock set. So smooth.
But I digress (as usual). It's freezing in the Deep South. As I headed out to my car this morning, I noticed my neighbor hauling in the last of the season's whale blubber into his igloo. He gave me a quick glance: one of sympathy, but also one of survival-fueled gratitude, for it would be me- not him- without enough warming whale oil to outlast winter's savage fury...
...at this point, I realized I had been dreaming, leaving me really pissed that I was still in bed, and I would be forced to leave the warmth of my downy cocoon to go commute in such crappy weather.
However, there exists some upside to such frigid conditions: I tend to crave hearty stews and rich red wines. Screw summer, and its socially-acceptable desires for lettuce and Vinho Verde. No, I want the stuff that made love handles before love handles were so fashionable (at least in America).
Fortunately, I had some lamb chops on hand. I also had potatoes and Guinness, but I'm Irish, so you already knew that. Add carrots, onions, some beef stock, a little bit of salt, pepper, and thyme, and before you lie the trappings for a proper Irish Stew (or some variation of it). For grins, and because lamb and Syrah go so well together, I popped a juicy, spicy 2006 Kokomo Dry Creek Valley Syrah.
What resulted was a rib-stickin', soul-warming meal that was worth of Greatness. Just like George Gervin. And Yacht Rock. And favorable weather.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Oh, the Places You'll Go
I'm wondering if the use of a Dr. Seuss reference as a post title for summarizing several days of very adult consumption is sacrilege of sorts. Perhaps, but I took 10 minutes drawing that crappy cigar and glass of wine with my mouse, so we're gonna go with it.The past week, I've poked around some of the most fascinating, if not still somewhat unknown, wine regions in North America. A pilgrimage was made from Atlanta, through Denver, into Portland, southwest to the Willamette Valley, north towards the Yakima Valley, through Prosser, east over to Walla Walla, then west to the most remote corner of the lower 48- Seattle- to sit on a tarmac for two hours, pores exuding perhaps pure wine at that point. Into Atlanta, straight to work, dreaming of my next trip west.
To be a "wine enthusiast" and say you've been to Napa Valley is akin to a "movie enthusiast" claiming he liked The Godfather. Yet, as my vine-centric adventures amass, I feel very privileged to have visited regions that not only are as impressive, but are perhaps unknown to the general public as wine Meccas.
Willamette Valley:As you can see to the right, this area is known for its rain...
The Willamette (rhymes with "dammit") Valley's north end lies just west of Portland, and it runs down from the Columbia River to just south of of Eugene, OR. Framed on the west and the east by the Coastal Range and the Cascades, respectively, this area is known for cool, rainy winters and warm, dry summers (though the region rarely sees temperatures above 90˚, relatively cool by grape-growing standards). For this reason, the area is known for Pinot Noir, a cluster notorious for difficult growing. It's sort of like the Lindsey Lohan of grapes: don't supply it with constant attention and monitoring, and you've got a hot mess on your hands. Fortunately, the relatively mild and consistent temperatures of the Valley (particularly the Yamhill-Carlton AVA in the north end) acts as a controlled, low-dose narcotic to Pinot's Lohan, thus keeping the grapes happy and thriving, resulting in some of the finest examples of Pinot Noir wine in the world.
Yakima Valley:Head up north from Portland, then east over the Cascades, and you see the real effects of a "rain barrier". With Mount Rainier forming the highest point at over 14,000 feet, most moisture that tries to get past the mountains is forced so high into the air, it freezes and precipitates out of the atmosphere atop the mountains. What's left to the east is a virtual desert, as the Yakima Valley receives about 6-9" rain a YEAR, compared to Seattle's 37". Fortunately, dry and hot can be a pretty damn good thing for growing grapes, among other things. Cherries, hops, apples, peaches, etc., etc., etc. all thrive in the Yakima Valley. As for wine grapes, I saw Syrah, Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Chardonnay, Viognier, Sauvignon Blanc, Malbec...well, there's not much I didn't see. Most of the wines tasted of the heat (though the typical climate is more temperate, allowing cool-natured grapes like Riesling to flourish here as well), with high alcohol, lots of tannin, and big fruit flavors. From my limited experience, I consider Yakima the South Australia of U.S. viticulture, sans marsupials, crocodile boots, and a low-tannin approach famous in quaffin' Aussie wines.
Walla Walla Valley:
Another valley carved out by the massive, prehistoric Missoula flood, W-squared lies southeast of the Yakima Valley, and the AVA actually crosses into Oregon, which has always made for an awkward situation for WW's allegiance when the WNBA's Seattle Storm and now-defunct Portland Fire used to lock horns. Oh, Portland Fire...we hardly knew ye.
Anyway, upon hearing that Walla Walla had both a proud winemaking tradition AND a large state pen, I stocked up on canned fruit cocktail, oranges, ketchup, loaves of bread, and Zip-Loc bags, eager to learn the secrets and subtleties of expressing the Walla Walla terroir in a fine Pruno. Instead, I found much of the same as in Yakima: a focus on reds, especially Syrah, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Merlot, many of which were blended in what some call the "Aussie Meritage", or a "CSM". Also found a good bit of Grenache and Mourvèdre, but mostly for the sake of blending with the Syrah to create Rhône-style blends. Also big in fruit, extraction, and alcohol, I did find the Walla Walla reds I tried to be a bit more restrained than the tooth-stainers from Yakima.So, that's where I've been. I think many knew what Willamette has been bringing to the table, but Washington isn't on the rise for nothing. I'll delve into some of my favorite wines- and favorite people- down the road a bit. For now, find a bottle, crack it open, and pour a little out for the Portland Fire...and Dr. Seuss.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
We didn't cook a dog. Dogs have personality.
Jules: Pigs sleep and root in shit. That's a filthy animal. I ain't eat nothin' that ain't got sense enough to disregard its own feces.
Vincent: How about a dog? Dogs eats its own feces.
Jules: I don't eat dog either.
Vincent: Yeah, but do you consider a dog to be a filthy animal?
Jules: I wouldn't go so far as to call a dog filthy but they're definitely dirty. But, a dog's got personality. Personality goes a long way.
Okay, all you North Shore Animal League folks can relax. It's not a dog we cooked. It's a lamb (P.E.T.A. folks continuing not to relax). However, you have to admit that it does look like we've got Fido hooked up to the spit:
So, dog lovers, rest easy. Lamb lovers (and I'm not talking about "lamb with a side of potatoes"), sorry. Lamb lovers (as in "lamb with a side of potatoes"), here's how it's done:
1 whole lamb (about 25.30 lb.), head off*
Kosher or Sea Salt
6 lemons, halved
3 or 4 footlong branches of fresh rosemary
thin copper wire
6 oz. lemon juice
6 oz. red wine vinegar
1/4 cup chopped garlic
2 tbsp crushed black peppercorns
1/4 cup rosemary leaves
1/4 cup oregano
32 oz. olive oil (extra virgin or regular)
*when I cook whole hogs, I usually get head-on, because the cheeks offer some of the best meat on the animal (and the ears and tongue are good eatin' too). With lamb, the heads are heavy, but I don't believe they bring as much meat to the table, so I opt to leave them off rather than pay for the extra weight.
1) Dig a 4' x 2' pit, or block off an area with bricks or stones on a non-flammable area of your your yard. For example, doing this in a bed of pinestraw would be a bad idea. Build a fire with charcoal (not the lighter fluid-infused kind, unless you like meat that tastes like lighter fluid) and/or wood (I used both). Once the coals are ashy, move them to the perimeter of the rectangle, leaving the middle empty.
2) Unwrap your mummified lamb (make sure it's thawed; you can order them in at a butcher shop and have them hold it for you until thawed, as most come in frozen...unless there's a farm around the corner from you). Rub the inside and out with salt. Fill the cavity with the halved lemons and rosemary sprigs. Close the body cavity with the copper wire.
3) Mix the lemon juice, vinegar, garlic, peppercorns, rosemary, oregano, and salt-to-taste in a large bowl. While whisking, drizzle the olive oil into the bowl to create an emulsion. This "vinaigrette" will serve as your baste for the lamb.
4) Secure your lamb to your spit with the meat forks on the spit rod and tie the legs with copper wire and secure to the rod. We also used some additional copper wire to wrap around the middle of the beast. Secure the spit rod to your rack (we made one out of 3/4" iron gas pipe fittings...it's about 4 feet wide). Position the lamb about 18-24" above the fire, depending on how hot it is. We also put a pan in the middle of the fire pit to catch tasty drippings. The area in the picture to the left is where I'm burning more wood to create coals to shovel onto the cooking fire when those coals get low...about every hour or so.
5) When your small grill rotisserie motor does not have the power to turn the lamb, curse momentarily, and then get creative. We tied some twine to the neck and positioned the lamb on its side over the fire, then secured the twine at that angle on the top post of the spit rack. The lamb only needed to be repositioned about every 30 minutes.
6) Every time you reposition the lamb, make sure to baste liberally with the olive oil mixture. I make a "mop" out of a stick and some strips of a dishrag. You can also buy mini mops at BBQ supply stores.
7) Your lamb should be done in about 3-4 hours, but the best way to check is with a meat thermometer. Stick it in the thickest part of one of the legs, and also in one of the shoulders. 145˚ means medium-rare. 155˚ is medium. 165˚ is well-done. Once mine hit mid-rare, I boosted the coals underneath, basted it up, and positioned the critter on each side for about 10 minutes to crisp up the skin.
This was my first go at it, and I was happy with the results, but I'd like to try it again with a proper rotisserie motor. There's definitely an element of "feel" when it comes to cooking the beast evenly, and I moved coals around to the thicker parts, as well as just kept an eye one what was cooking and what wasn't. In the end, it ended up a little more cooked than how I would want a rack of lamb at a restaurant, but everything was very moist and tender, so I wasn't complaining. The dogs didn't complain either; they clearly knew it was a lamb and not one of their own...or they just didn't care.
For wines, I alway encourage folks to drink what they like. When I'm messin' with lamb, I gravitate towards big reds: Syrah in particular. Zinfandel is also a nice pairing, or a smoky Malbec or Tempranillo-based red wine. For something a little lighter, a Grenache-based wine would be good. Here's a lineup of what we knocked back, bellies full of an animal with no personality (otherwise, we wouldn't eat it...maybe):
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Classic Pairings 103: Syrah-lence of the Lamb
PETA advocates, raw foodists, and vegans need not apply. As Bourdain often says [paraphrased], "if you're slower than me, dumber than me, and tasty, then you're fair game."
No truer statement could be made about the glory that is lamb. And while I'm not here to argue the land speed record of a galloping lamb or challenge said beast to a spirited game of Trivial Pursuit, I can say with full, experienced confidence that it is mighty delicious...
...okay, no more defending the virtues of eating red meat. It just seems...well, a little creepy. Seriously, I'm starting to feel like Jame Gumb over here (better know as Silence of the Lambs' "Buffalo Bill"). "Would you eat lamb? I'd eat lamb..." (somewhere faintly in the distance, I think I hear Q Lazzarus' "Goodbye Horses").
We're derailing. Focus, Joe! Anyway, there's something about lamb: the richness of the red meat, the slight gaminess lent to it from the presence of lanolin; it can stand up to just about anything. Then, slather the lamb (in this case, the tender but more affordable leg) in herbs, garlic, and spices, roast it to a crusty exterior in the now-infamous Showtime Rotisserie, and it just begs for a table on a cold winter's night, paired with a wine equal in robustness and machismo.
Syrah (otherwise known as "Shiraz" in parts of the New World, especially Australia) is a wine dominated by complex bouquet, intense flavors, massive tannins, and- at times- absurd alcohol levels that shame Hannibal Lector's wimpy Chianti and overpower those outmatched fava beans.
My victim- er- wine choice for this pairing was a 2004 E. Guigal Crozes-Hermitage. This AOC in the Northern Rhône Valley of France (a Syrah hotspot) is know for wines that are complex, elegant, powerful, and yet more approachable in youth than big shot neighbors Hermitage, Cornas, and Côte Rotie. Furthermore, at a very reasonable 12.5% ABV, I had confidence this bottle would work well with food, rather than suffocate it with alcohol (and I've had Aussie Shiraz at 16%+).
Bottom line: the wicked nose of pepper, smoke, flowers (perhaps violets, but I don't exactly know what a violet smells like...it was floral, okay?), plums, blackberries, and meat- yes, roasted meat, progressed into a mouth-filling flavor of fruit, herbs, and more pepper. The tannins (which usually dries your mouth out and/or makes it feel "fuzzy") were pretty smooth. What pleased me the most was the good dose of acidity, giving the juice freshness, and making my mouth water for food...
...in particular, lamb fat. Yeah, the meat was good...medium-rare, juicy, flavorful; the crust of black pepper and crushed garlic and sea salt and Herbes de Provence got busy in a PG-13 sorta way with the herbal, peppery nuances of the wine. But all those smooth tannins and acidity just CRUSHED with the melt-in-your-mouth, velvety veneer of lamb fat (and we're talking R-rated plus, folks). Perhaps you just had to be there. The richness of the lamb, the spices, and the all-of-the-above of the Crozes. Man, this might've been the best food/wine pairing in the universe.
So, to try and sum this up: Syrah and Lamb are a classic pairings for reasons that can barely be defined by words. You just have to go try this one. Come on over...I'll cook it all again. I don't care about lotion in the basket. I don't care if you're a size fourteen. I just want you to experience this combination. Yes, it may be an obsession, but it's probably not one that will land me as a character in a disturbing movie.
Speaking of disturbing movies, check this out (actually, I have to boast that I think this is my best work yet. Cheers!):
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Bottle Recap - 1 of 3
Had a request to revisit some bottles that were popped during the ol' 3-oh a few weeks ago...your best bet to buy any of these 3 would be online; the only label I've seen in stores in Atlanta is Kokomo. I'll be breaking this report up into 3 posts, due to extreme laziness. So, onto part 1 of 3:
Panza 2004 Stags' Leap Ranch Petite Sirah: This wine comes from one of the (if not "the") coolest wineries I've ever visited, Quixote. Located in the Stags' Leap District of Napa Valley, it's a small place off the Silverado Trail that only offers tastings by appointment, which I was fortunate enough to do with some friends last year.If you are an architectural nut or an artsy-fartsy-type, you would really get a kick out of the Friedensreich Hundertwasser-design of the grounds; it's like you've walked right into a Dr. Seuss book, but with some tasty hooch standing in for the green eggs & ham.
Speaking of the "hooch", Quixote only bottles two varieties: Cabernet Sauvignon (a staple in Napa Valley, especially Stags' Leap) and Petite Sirah. You won't find many wineries 'round California (hell, the world) who hang their hat on PS, a much-lesser-know variety of grape that's known as Durif in the Rhône Valley of France (where its "brother", the Syrah grape, is king). Similar to Syrah, Petite Sirah has an amazing bouquet of black fruits and black pepper. But, despite being described as "petite", it packs more of a wallop than Syrah. It's really inky dark in color, and very tannic, which may be a turnoff for some. But, if you like a manly wine to go with your big-ass steak or grilled lamb chops, you're in flavor country, my friend. At $40, the Panza is no steal, but it's a darn good one, especially if you're planning to hang onto it for a few years until you can afford steak again. In these lean times, Petite Sirah, especially the pitch-black '04 Panza, will not pair that perfectly with your Ramen Noodles.
You can buy all the Panza label and Quixote wines at http://www.quixotewinery.com/
Monday, February 23, 2009
Found my notes...
...and away we go. Sorry for the delay.
Aroma: Fruit. Cherries, Strawberries mostly
Taste: To me, California PN is often heavier than it's European (or New Zealand) counterparts. Big fruit flavors, darker color, etc. This one, however, seemed lighter than most Cali Pinot. Unlike an old world Pinot Noir, the flavors were more fruity than earthy, but the body was lighter (to me, despite containing 14% Merlot), and there was a good bit of acidity to it. Heavier than Oregon's finest, but lighter than California. I liked this wine and look forward to drinking it with a piece of freshly-caught salmon. Or canned salmon. The catfish ate all the fresh salmon in my neighborhood pond. Ooh...a pork chop would be good. Remember that guy who played for Mississippi St. whose name was "Pork Chop Womack"? I hope to someday name a child "Pork Chop". That name commands respect.
2005 Screw Kappa Napa MerlotAroma: Off-putting at first, but after a few swirls, I got sniffs of berries, little bit of leather, and herbs, particularly oregano (or that could have been my friends out behind the shed).
Taste: Soft tannins, like many Cali Merlots, with flavors of ripe cherries, berries, and even some charcoal. I thought this was a perfectly serviceable Merlot. I was wary of the gimmicky name at first, but was not disappointed by the true wine beneath. Nothing special, but not a bad buy for $10-12. Also, don't let the screw cap scare you off: this is becoming far more popular these days, as cork can allow air into the wine and oxidize/ruin it. Real cork is also subject to "cork taint", which can ruin a wine as well. So don't fear the screw cap...it never stopped you from drinking that 40 oz. of King Cobra, did it?
2007 Cline "Ancient Vines" California ZinfandelFunny thing. I didn't take any notes on this wine, but I specifically recall it tasting different than the last time I had it. Why didn't I take notes? Because my notes say "see previous notes," referring to when we tasted this wine in a previous post (A Zinfandel Tasting).
But, I'm a dumbass. I recall this one tasting less chocolate and cherries, and more berries and pepper. I still liked it, but it was more, uh, "punchy", I guess. Probably more acidic.
So, let this be a lesson: even self-proclaimed "wine enthusiasts," who act like they know what they're doing, are not immune to stupifying effects of boozin'.
2005 Dynamite Vineyards Lake County Cabernet Sauvignon Aroma: Okay. I wrote "Barrel Room". That's a smell a lot of people may not know, unless you are a shameless winery tourist, a rat, or perhaps Sloth from The Goonies.
Anyway, "Barrel Room" is the smell of where the wine is aging in oak barrels. This tells me that this wine smelled like vanilla, oak, toast, and some classic Cab smells, like dark fruit, leather, and cocoa.Taste: Blueberries, Vanilla, Black Cherry, Herbs. Despite the described aroma, the oak was not completely overpowering the fruit flavors. I thought it was pretty decent for a $17.99 bottle of Cali cab, until I saw it at another store for $9.97....friggin' Fresh Market. Anyway, for $9.97, this is a good deal.
2005 Novelty Hill Columbia Valley Syrah
2005 Novelty Hill Columbia Valley SyrahOkay. If you don't know where the Columbia Valley is, it's not in California. It actually runs from Washington down and runs along the Washington-Oregon border. So, this wine didn't fit with the "rules", but at this point, we didn't care. Furthermore, we weren't spitting throughout the night, so my notes REALLY suck here. I wrote, "classic syrah...can't pick out the scent." Wow. That's knowledge. From my experience, I can gather that this was a powerful wine with peppery aromas and flavors, laced with dark fruit, mint, leather, tar, and some nice structured tannins. I wouldn't think of Washington State as an adequate producer of a warmer-weather grape like Syrah, but it did seem similar to a more northern-Rhone wine, like Cote-Rotie. Not necessary a wine for the beginner, and a far cry from jammy Australian Shiraz, but worth a try if you're looking to get into Syrah (which is a good idea, in my opinion).
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
California Love
Got together at pal Lindsay's place last Friday to taste some wines and tell some stories. The rules were simple: everyone bring 2 bottles of a particular varietal wine, all from California. The suspects were Pinot Noir, Merlot, Zinfandel, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Syrah. Donned in my "Awesome Possum" t-shirt, the coup-de-gras of sommelier gear, I proceded to try to pontificate on the sanctity of the vine to a bunch of drunk college buddies. Sure enough, this was neither the time nor the place, so we just started popping corks and tucking in. I must say: I don't consider myself a pretentious wine snob, but I sure look like a li'l stinker in this particular photo (right). Oh well. It reminds me of Mike Myers talking about Colonel Sanders in So I Married an Axe Murderer, with that "smug look on his face. Oh, you're gonna buy my chicken...ooooohhh." See the bottom of this post if you don't know what I'm talking about. 
So, with Kenny (pictured, left, to the right) half-in-the-bag, on the cusp of performing his famous Mick Jagger strut, we tucked into some very decent wines within the $12-15 range (though many were $17-20, and I bet those people couldn't afford Taco Bell later that night. Suckers!). As in most tastings we started with the lightest body in Pinot Noir, then went to the Merlot, the Zinfandel, the Cab, and finished with the Syrah.
Behold the lineup, from left to right:-2006 Courtney Benham Sonoma/Mendocino County Pinot Noir
-2005 Screw Kappa Napa Napa Valley Merlot
-2007 Cline "Ancient Vines" California Zinfandel
-2005 Dynamite Vineyards Lake County Cabernet Sauvignon
-2005 Novelty Hill Columbia Valley Syrah (not California, but more on that later)
-2007 Dacu Ribera Del Guadiana (Tempranillo)...not part of the tasting, but worth noting
With our motley crew of selections lined up, we set out to find the best. What wines took the cake? Well, that will have to wait for the next post, because I have to go to sleep and dream about not going to work tomorrow. In the meantime, enjoy this previously-mentioned movie clip:
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