Drink Your Palate Dry

Never Lose That Feeling: A brilliant transition.

Gazelle Vino Verde, Chateau Bonnet White, Quail's Gate Chenin Blanc, Leyda Reserve Sauvignon Blanc, Centine Negramaro Rosé. A brilliantly laid out line up.

Tasting notes to come.

Short hand:
Gazella - not as sweet as expected.
Chateau Bonnet - herbaceous
Quails Gate Chenin - funky cheese rind and minerality.
Leyda (2007) Sauv Blanc - fresh basil and fruit salad
Centine Negramaro Rosé - orange marmalade in toast

Highlights from WSET Intermediate Level 2

Details to come, but here's an overview of my WSET experience:

- 1995 Riesling with amazing acidity
- an unnerving blind tasting of Chianti, Barolo and Amarone
- Pouilly-Montrachet
- finally understanding the heads, hearts and tails in spirit distillation
- still using "plastic" as a tasting note

WSET stands for Wine & Spirit Education Trust. It's an organization that offers courses and certification in wine and spirit education. The diploma degree is a MW, or Master of Wine, the 4th of 4 levels. I just completed the 2nd Level. Varietal characteristics, region profiles, history and laws, wine-making, spirit distillation, wine storage and food and wine pairing.

Stainless Steel and Citrus: Sauvignon Blanc as an almost-aromatic variety

Expect posts on Okanagan Gewurztraminer in the near future.  But first, some more thoughts on Chilean Sauvignon Blanc...

I've been doing research on mid-range SB's from Chile ($10-$20 bottles) and I've come across two common threads.  The first is balanced acidity.  In a mid-range wine what this translates to is dry, but not too dry.  Acidity is all about mouth feel and it's the third or fourth thing I notice about a wine (after colour, smell and first flavour impressions on the palate), but what it's a sign of is actually a front runner when we're talking about wine and quality.  The balance of acid and sugar is the foundation of grape ripening, but it's also the magic of mouth feel.  Acid is responsible for that mouth-watering sensation you get on the sides of your tongue and the inside of your cheeks.  It makes me exclaim words like lively, zesty, vibrant, and aggressive.  These descriptors are all characteristic of the wines I've been drinking lately.  In my opinion, zesty and aggressive are the most SB-specific and a direct result of high acidity and stainless steel fermentation and aging.  Time spent in a stainless steel vat as opposed to an oak barrel will preserve the wines natural brightness and freshness, inspiring an elevated experience when you stick your nose in a glass of it.  Romantic nasal hypnosis of this nature I associate with the aromatic varieties of Alsace, France.  Sauvignon Blanc doesn't quite belong in that category though.  It's aromas and flavour profile are too sharp, too zippy to stand still with Pinot Gris, Gewurz, and others.  Grapefruit, freshly cut grass, lemon peel, lime spice, hint of mint, pear, tropical and citrus fruits, zesty bordering on tart or sour... I could go on.  And I will.

The other commonality I found amongst my research was the prominence of citrus fruit as herbaceous and floral notes took the back seat.  More thanks to the stainless steel aging, wines of this style aren't imbued with character or complicated bouquets.  The closest I've come to finding floral is a strong sent of pink grapefruit.  Pink is about as floral or as formal as they can get.  To me the distinctness of a Chilean Sauvignon Blanc comes from the fact that its acidity keeps it crisp and playfully dances along your palate.  They're not going to linger, or even call out for food (though paired with oysters would probably blow my mind).  I imagine the hummingbird from Pocahontas (or any hummingbird for that matter).  A vibrant and colourful beauty that zips through the air with purpose. 

This was the perfect time

The truth is, you can't count on perfection. That might be why it's so very magical when you experience it.

I'm not anticipating it in every bottle, nor am I looking for it with the pop of every cork. I hope for it every once and a while and I'm convinced 'Côte Rotie' translates to 'perfection' if you trace the language back far enough. For the most part though, I'm driven by curiosity, not assessment.

Curiosity breeds anticipation and wonder, which leads to desire, which fuels my passion... and sometimes that bubbling combination culminates in genuine pleasure and for me, THAT is perfection.

This evening I decided to open the 2008 Joie PTG I've been saving since Christmas 2011. A Pinot Noir - Gamay blend made in the Okanagan Valley that, according to the owners, operators and winemakers of Joie, Heidi Noble & Michael Dinn, benefits from several years of aging and maturation. Today, March 18th, 2012, was the perfect day to drink it. I'm sure of it. Whatever this wine needed to do between 2008 and now, it did it, and it did it well. In fact, someone should tell Heidi and Michael that Burgundy called and they want their delicate beauty back. This wine is so delicate it floated across my palate. It's texture is so silky, I wish my entire body was draped in silk. Contrary to its airy texture, the wine has weight like a Muscat. This is where things get French. Weight without boldness. It shows red fruit like a stainless steel fermented Gamay. Fully ripe strawberries and tart rhubarb, wild mushrooms and garden greens on the nose. It flirts with caramel and butterscotch too. I want to pinpoint the candied characteristics, but 'caramel' doesn't quite capture it. It hovers a notch or two before butterscotch.

Back to the palate... Classifying the acidity at a solid 'medium' as my WSET training tells me to, I'm sensing a vibrancy that has persisted from the wine's youth. Slight tannic grip, there only for a moment. Baked cherries and more juicy, juicy strawberry on the palate. I feel like my lips and teeth should be coated with playful shades of berries. The finish, just when I was about to call the wine sweet, the earthiness comes back with a bang. Direct from my tasting notebook: "the sweetness and earthiness play with each other."

Analysis aside, I enjoyed this wine immensely. It reminded me of France and BC simultaneously and reminded me that BC can be clean and precise. I can't speak to what this wine tasted like 6 months ago or what it will taste like 6 months from now, but today, Joie's 2008 PTG took me to that place only amazing wines can go. A euphoric combination of familiarity (Burgundy) and pioneering a raising of the bar for BC wines. This is the wine to beat.

Ten out of ten for texture and mouthfeel.
It maintains excellent acidity, I must give it top marks for construction. Seductive on the nose, engulfing palate. Full marks. What a wonderful evening. Thank you Joie.

Follow Up

It's been exactly 1 week since the Vancouver Playhouse Internatioanl Wine festival and I'm going through Chile withdrawl.  Upon my return to the Island I've found myself talking only of Chile when reporting back to my peers about my experience at the International festival.  Highlights other than the cool climate sauv blancs include Aussie Shiraz-Viogniers and small production experimental Cinsaults.  Beyond that I just can't shut up about Chile.  

So, I called up my favorite Sauvignon Blanc lover and got back on the band-wagon!  Tonight's research was Casas del Bosque 2011 SB from the Casablanca Valley followed by Yali SB 2011 from the Northern Colchagua Valley.  

We started with the Casas del Bosque because neither of us had had it or heard anything about it.  I have since learned that it's made of several different Sauvignon Blanc clones and sourced from two different plots of land of varying soil types.  The complicated construction definately shows.  Here are our tasting notes:

colour: bright lemon yellow, yet pale

aromas: freshly cut grass, asparagus, citrus (lemon rind, nearing grapefruit), spicy herbaceousness, vegetal (wild mushrooms), lingering minerality 

palate: lime, grapefruit, slightly sweet (honeydew melon?), spicy (white pepper, rosemary, lime softness), earthy/minerally finish (mushrooms, wet rocks, grassy)

overall thoughts: complex and delicous, medium bodied (uncharacteristic of Chile, more New Zealand style), medium acid, pleasant herbaceousness, very, very enjoyable.

Then we ate dinner.  Salmon with dill mayo and wild rice.  The Casas del Bosque paired nicely.  We were glad it wasn't too acidic.  The fish was cooked perfectly ;)  We didn't want a palate clenser of a wine.  We wanted another flavour to add to the enjoyment.  It was a crisp pairing, but it was also sweet.  It didn't lose anything and it didn't take anything away.  T'was lovely.

Then on to dessert.  Yali's Sauvignon Blanc was completely different.  I had tried it in Vancouver (thank you Felipe!) and found it inticingly acidic.  I remember checking to see if my teeth were still intact after swishing this wine all over my taste buds.  This time around I was a little more grounded and had a little more food in my belly.  It lived up to its acidic reputation, but it didn't destroy me (or my drinking buddy) like it did in Van. We found it to be incredibly crisp.  Dry, none of the sweetnes we'd gotten of the Casas del Bosque.  Citric, but straight lemon.  Dry and clean.  It disappeared from my mouth in mere moments but left my mouth watering.  Greeeeeeeeen aromas, green on the palate.  Not sweet, not too fruity.  All wet stones and ocean air.  Once it warmed up a little I got some tropical action (pineapple spice).  All high notes.  Light  body, lemon zest, and yes, grassy.  Minimal -- if any -- herbaceous notes.  A few steps above simple, but a lot cleaner and more focused then our first SB of the night.  

All in all a good evening.  More on Sauv Blanc's to come.  Next up, The "tomato leaf" tasting note. Stay tuned.

Vancouver International Wine Festival 2012: Cool Climate Sauvignon Blanc

The Pacific Ocean adjacent Leyda Valley in Chile produces serious Sauvignon Blanc.  After tasting a lot, one after another, after another, over the past 2 days, I’ve come to realize that the Leyda Valley has something very special to offer. 

I first found my love of white wine in the Sauvignon Blancs of France.  I have since changed allegiances to New Zealand, had a brief affair with Californian SB’s (Deerfield and Peter Franus, I’m lookin’ at you), fell back in love with France, and am now coming to know the elegance and jaw-dropping acidity of Chilean Sauvignon Blanc.

They’re a more grassy kind of grassy than New Zealand.  By this I mean, New Zealand “grassy” notes tend to hint at the herbaceous.  Chile brings the freshness right down to a blade of grass.  Much of what I tasted was quickly identifiable as such, which in my opinion is the mark of brilliant construction.  When I pick up a glass and bring it to my nose and smell one thing very clearly, I want to immediately applaud the winemaker.  There is something to be said about unity and precision.  Overall, the 20+ Sauv Blancs I tried were grassy, with strong lemon zest aromas and grapefruit, green apple and vanilla on the palate.  Mouthfeel seemed to vary the most, ranging from light, sharp and almost prickly to medium bodied, with lingering yet comfortable acid.  The ones I can’t stop thinking about are the ones that deviated from this profile.  3 or 4 wines in the mix were herbaceous and kinda stinky, leaning towards the flinty Sauv’s from France’s Loire region.  These were the wines from Leyda. 

 The Leyda Valley is found alongside the Pacific Ocean, even more inland than the already coastal Maipo region.  Currents coming off the ocean at this latitude are cool, cool, cool.  The growing season allows for slow and steady development of sugar, maintaining a healthy portion of acid that follows through to the glass.  These Sauv’s look essentially clear but, the aromas are as pungent as New Zealand.  There’s something about the ocean air that adds a salty zip to the wine, like lemongrass.  The acidity is mouth puckering, yet followed by a soft vanilla-lime finish.  The experience is wonderful.  Minerality showed on some of the lighter styles.  Obviously “lighter” is a relative term here.  It’s absolutely amazing how something so seemingly delicate can punch you square in the face and never let you forget it.

Check out Vina Leyda’s Single Vineyard Sauvignon Blanc.  It took my breath away.

 

What does it mean to be biodynamic?

Biodynamism is based on the theories of Austrian philosopher Rudolf Steiner who merges cosmology, science and holistic methods to form a model for viticulture and vinification that promotes a healthy environment for grape growth and winemaking.

To be biodynamic is to work along with the specific environment of your viticultural location.  What this means is that a biodynamic winery will work with the natural world to grow their grapes, maintain their vineyard and make their wine.  Using the sunlight, wind patterns, temperature at particular times of day, composting and natural fertilizer, and other purely natural techniques are examples of biodynamic practices.  The basic philosophy is to be an extension of the natural conditions.  The way of the land, the conditions of the earth, the currents in the air, and the energy in the sunlight are all valuable resources as well as necessary components of the winemaking process.  Biodynamic winemaking is sensitive to all of these elements and listens to them very closely.  Being biodynamic also means listening to cosmic cycles.  Certain times of day and moments in the cosmic cycle are optimal for certain steps in the winemaking process.  I don’t know when the moons gravitational pull is most conducive to bottling wine, but a biodynamic winemaker will.  And the biodynamic winemaker will follow the sun, the moon, and the planets schedules, even if it means stirring the lees at 4 am or bottling wine on a Friday night at 10.  Biodynamic techniques can take many forms, but the main elements are listening to the cosmic cycles and using purely natural ways of treating the soil and maintaining the vineyards. 

Wine writer and serious wine expert (holy understatements, Batman!) Oz Clarke* explains  that “biodynamism means paying intensely detailed attention to your vines and soil.”  In this way, I understand biodynamics as an extension of terroir.  Now, this is an idea I can get behind. Being in tune with the energy and environment in addition to the soil, water, sunlight, etc. can only mean more precise and more engaged terroir.  

*Oz Clarke and Margaret Rand.  Grapes & Wines.  New York: Sterling Epicure, 2010. (p. 22).

Quail's Gate, Queues and the Cold Soak

I drink a lot of wine.  I buy about 3 times what I manage to drink.  My eyes are obviously bigger than my palate and my will power is nothing much to boast about.  My collection is made up of bottles I've eyed up and thoroughly researched at work and put on a list in my head/heart of wines to buy.  With the amount of wine I see in a week (a day, even) and my easy to please/I'm intrigued by everything attitude, the queue gets pretty long.  For my entire work day I am surrounded by bottles crying out to be enjoyed, product sheets pile up on my desk and portfolio after portfolio is sampled for me to consider.  Before I even make it home to my wine rack I've seen more wine than one could possibly consume in a lifetime.  My liver and the paperwork portion of my day thank me for professionally spitting everything I try 9-5, but it has recently occurred to me that my teeth require some protection as well.  

A brief digression: In a different city, at a different wine store, there was a time I thought it was quirky that a particular manager kept floss at his/her desk.  Now, after sampling any number of Rioja's, Barolo's and Super Tuscans, Rhone blends and an Australian Shiraz or two, I understand that quirky floss is not only practical, but now necessary.

Speaking of the enamel on my teeth, I love coating them with deep dark berry purple coloured wines.  I fell in love with Cote Rotie (the Syrah Viognier blends of the Northern Rhone region in France) for this exact reason.  Speaking closer to home, a lot of BC reds achieve the near royal purple colour I love so much by undergoing one of my favorite vinification processes.  THE COLD SOAK.  The grapes and their skins can be left to soak at temperatures too cool for fermentation to start up.  During this time colour and flavour are extracted from the grapes without the grippy tannins that usually tag along.  This is similar to the method of making iced tea from real tea.  If you soak the teabags in cold water instead of boiling water, for a longer period of time, you get the flavour without those pesky tannins that you really only want out of Earl Gray on a cold night by the fireplace.  Blueberry and blackberry notes result from the process, sometimes even hinting at chocolate and mocha on the palate.  These flavours aren't specific to this process though.  Like I mentioned, Cote Rotie does it all on its own, and so does the BC superstar Marechal Foch.  A powerful variety showing richness from appearance to mouthfeel.

The mouthfeel (how wine feels while in my mouth) of Quail's Gate Old Vines Foch 2008 made it stand out from all the wines I've had so far this season.  The full-force fruit hit me right away.  Not jammy, but juicy like blueberry pie.  Rich, yet silky, smooth, yet complex like a tapestry or a watercolour painting.  Immediately following its moments of fruit and almost mind-bogglingly inextricable from the fruit was that mocha aspect.  Bitter chocolate and sharp espresso notes, married by blackberry and a richness I keep coming back to but cannot adequately explain.  The tannins are present, but take a backseat.  On the finish the wine shows sophisticated gamey notes.  Character achieved, I assume from the old vines with a staying power secured by the Osoyoos heat.

Quail's Gate Old Vines Foch 2008 was my favorite wine of October 2011.  One out of nearly 100 wines that crossed my palate.  A full flavoured, medium bodied, classically complex deep purple wine that stood out above and beyond and made me stop and really think about Foch, about Quail's Gate, and about the Okanagan.  Wine Lovers don't talk about Quail's Gate enough.  I think this is because they consistently make amazing wine, period.  They aren't pushing the boundaries of blends or redefining the limits of the region.  They make really amazing really refined wine, all the time.  Anyone who has had any vintage of their entry level Pinot Noir knows what I'm talking about.  It's my go-to wine for anyone looking for a delicate Pinot from BC.  It's a cold climate Pinot from the scorching Okanagan, developed to perfection on the slopes of Mt. Boucharie.  The Quail's Gate careful balance of old and new oak follow through on the femininity of Pinot.  Construction you don't have to think about, just enjoy it.  But don't forget to talk about it every once and a while.

 

On Memories

Oily ground beef, mushrooms sauteed in onion and the sweet smell of yeast... 
The basement at my Babi and Dzeda's house at a table set for 20...
Shot glasses filled to the brim with invisible vodka next to crystal goblets of garnet red wine...
An army of bottles at ready, lined up down the center of the table surronded by a mosaic of old world cuisine.

All this from a scent in the air.  The sense of smell is powerful.  Definitely an indication that we are the creation of something all knowing.

I sat across the room from a pizza oven at work as the rising dough and baking bison sausage took me back in time. 

The science behind sense memory is based on the magical ability of the mind to retain an impression of a sensory stimuli and recall it after the stimulus itself is nothing but a memo-- Oops! ... No matter how caught up I get in the hustle and bustle of day to day life there are about a million different smells that can remind me not to take that brain in a vat for granted.  Piroshki is at the top of that seven digit list.

As described above, Piroshki was one flavour in a family quilt of Russian and eastern European cuisine.  Lots of stewed veggies in cream, carmalized onions, pickled herring (with onions), red meat, game, perogies (with onions), sour cream (need I go on?), and not without a shot of vodka (read: wodka) setting you up for the long evening and long life-loving life ahead.

In the here and now I sit beside a bottle of wine.  The label tells me a percentage breakdown of a 7 grape blend.  My sensory memory is going nuts!  Not to mention my ever-growing knowledge base and all that blind tasting I've been doing.  46.9% Cabernet Sauvignon.  I wonder what that tastes like.  What I do know for sure is that the sides of my tongue are producing more saliva than I know what to do with. 

What's the difference here, between my Piroshki memory and drooling over a bottle of wine I have yet to try?  What is my brain doing for me now as Bordeaux Blends and Okanagan summers pass fleetingly through me.  Just out of reach, I can barely grasp those taste buds as they tease me and taunt me with endorphins that run through my fingertips and draw me romantically in.  I think I know what I'm in for and that's what makes the temptation so great, but ultimately it's the not knowing that saturates my palate.  And, let's face it, it's what fills my wine cooler.

Extending both forward and backwards, anticipating and re-captruing an all too accessible past I excercise my palate and my mind.  Next up: where is taste located?  Is it with the fancy bread?  Some how I think so.

"Tell me where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?
            Reply, reply.
It is engender’d in the eyes,
With gazing fed; and fancy dies
In the cradle, where it lies." ~ William Shakespeare

Well Worth the Wait

It was Summer 2009 when Pennywise Petite Sirah first came into my life.

It was one of those days when you're operating on a 3-5 second delay.  Nothing touches you with immediacy or intimacy, you move through routine like a wagon on an old dirt road.  Sensation takes a back seat to blurry and vague.  Maybe you're tired, or maybe you're really content and you just haven't realized it yet.

Pennywise Petite Sirah 2005 had been only a label on a wish list for me (so many wines, so little time).  I smelled it before I knew I was smelling it.  I had it in a glass in my hand without realizing what I was about to try.  My first impression (barely glass to face contact) was 'who's cooking bacon?'.  I was offended by the dominating aromas and confused by the fact that they weren't coming from the kitchen, they were coming from my glass.  I put my face a little closer, a little closer, and then focused my nose into the mouth of the glass.  There it was.  Meaty, meaty, meaty, meaty Pennywise Petite Sirah.  I had no idea.  Deep purple in colour, obviously begging for cellar time, completely completely opaque.  You could rob a bank behind the veil of this pigment.  This wine was 75% structure and 25% texture.  Bacon, dark berries, hickory smoked bacon on the nose.  As the wine (and I) relaxed, the oily, salty, peppery qualities smoothed out a little and the bacon turned to beautiful tobacco and smoked wood aromas.  The berries showed some bitterness and some sweetness.  Cassis-like, I called it.  It was juicy and dry on the palate.  Medium in body, heavy on the flavour.  Dry tannins and an aggressive finish.

I only had the one glass that day, but I was sure to grab a bottle from the very limited supply.  That was 18 months ago.  I've been giving that bottle the flirtatious eye for 18 months, and last night, with two of my favorite wine gals, we let Pennywise Petite Sirah take us for a ride.

Impressions now came with much anticipation and expectation.  Weight enough to ruin a wine.  I was very nervous.  My girls were excited*.  18 months later, Pennywise still had it.  Seduction in a bottle.  Now equal parts structure and texture, yet somehow 100% that feeling you get when you see a new crush reach for something on a high up shelf and you get a peak of the waistband of their underwear for the first time.

Alright, enough poetry. 

Here we go: showing more purple tones than any other colour on the spectrum, smoked meat (both sweet elements and rustic notes), cassis, something herbaceous (we debated eucalyptus and chocolate mint) and thick tobacco on the nose, surprisingly light and silky on the palate with refined tannins on the finish, fleshy dark berries (blackberry, blueberry), extremely bitter dark chocolate, and yes... bacon.

When I say 'bacon' I'm referring to a few sensations.  First, that scent of pork crackling away in oil and fat.  Then, sweet (nearly maple), rich (what I can only call) meaty aromas.  And lastly, the impression of oil.  Oily, briny/salty, smoky.

It was incredibly satisfying to have invested the time in this bottle and have it pay off.  It was also incredibly satisfying to be sensually moved by the construction of flavour, texture and aroma. 

Oh, the riches of experience.

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* It's amazing to have friends that taste as opposed to friends that drink.  Hold onto these special people, they make for wonderful friendships (and they're more likely to go in on a bottle of Romanee Conti with you).