Drink Your Palate Dry

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).

The Sexiest Wine of 2010

Cuz I've had 3 espressos this morning and I've got the time ... another post...

It's nearing a new year.  This means time for reflection.  Below is the wine that turned me on the most this year.   There are more, but this is the one that I will remember as inspiring passion and appetite.  Stay tuned for the runner up.

BLASTED CHURCH Big Bang 2009 ~ The Sexy Librarian: deep, intense in appearance, sophisticated bouquet, sultry velvet texture . . . 

Gamay (60%) w/ Merlot, Lemberger and Marechal Foch 

deep, intense appearance ~ cold soak.  All grapes spent near a week in a cold soak before fermentation.   It's purple/maroon colour was achieved during this time.  Soak is such a great word.  Soak = saturate.  See, I told you.  Sexy ;)

sophisticated bouquet ~ the Foch was treated like a white wine, with no skin contact and a cold soak isolated from the other grapes.  This was done to mute the foxy aromas that Foch can produce making way for the chocolate, coffee, butterscotch and floral bouquet.  Thank you Gamay!  Thank you Merlot!

sultry velvet texture ~ 60% Gamay, 16% Lemberger, 15% Merlot, 9% Foch.  The Big Bang is an evolution from Blasted Church's previous vintages of The Dam Flood.  Dam Flood is a Merlot, Lemberger blend.  A spicy, acidic expression of 60%  early ripening Merlot and 40% late ripening Lemberger.  For the 2009 blend, the Lemberger just didn't work out that well, so to roll with the climatic punches, Blasted Church created a slightly different blend and a slightly different expression.  Gamay, gamay, gamay.  Here I go again with my silk metaphors ... like silk on silk Gamay seduces my palate and teases me with it's slight acidity.  Damn you Blasted Church.  Dam Flood indeed. ;)

A lesson from Alex.

Food and wine pairings from last night: Sommelier-style

Canada Prime Steak Tartare: Quail egg, caper, anchovy, rye toast, punch romaine shot

Cedar Creek Pinot Noir, BC

Wild B.C. Mushroom Risotto: Morel, chanterelle, lobster, oyster, enoki

Pfaffenheim Gewurztraminer, France & Line Shack Chardonnay, USA

Seared Foie Gras: Roasted apple, maple whiskey pear jam

Chateau d'Armajan des Ormes (Sauturnes), France & Botrytis Affected Quails Gate Optima Late Harvest, BC

Pine Nut & Roasted Garlic Lamb Rack: Manzilla olive gnocchi, syrah demi

Burrowing Owl Merlot, BC

Hazelnut Roasted Venison Loin: Sour cream mashed potatoes, hazelnut & chocolate demi

Line Shack Cabernat Sauvignon, USA

Warm Sticky Date Pudding Soaked in Calvados: Butler farms hazelnut brittle, confiture de lait

Love, love, love, love, love . . .

Pork Belly and Black Tower: What a Day

Day one with a wine blog on my mind.  

I aim to post my musings here in the interest of encouraging said musings.  I hope that the thoughts, opinions and passionate feelings I already have about food and wine will take on narrative shape as I share them here.  Warning: I may impart knowledge but this is merely a side effect of the sponge-like attitude I have toward the art and science of taste.

Two elements, two expressions, two ways of expressing twos.

1. Pork Belly and Braised Cabbage  (made by Genevieve at Sips Artisan Bistro, Victoria, BC)

Does it get any better than this?  

Pork belly ~ in itself is its own expression of twos.  My favorite: crispy & jelly-like.

Braised Cabbage ~ achieves both sweet and sour, expressed with apple and red wine.  It is the acid to the pork belly's fat.  It adds humble warmth to decadence.  It is zippy and exuberant, the pork belly a bold, meaty, salty statement.  

This expression of two is a marriage.  Differences mingle and merge.   Beautiful.  Delicious.

And now, for a contrast: Black Tower Riesling (as if this is the first wine I am mentioning here)

Yes, that's right, I'm going there.  Wine can be funny.  Has anyone seen the new bottle scheme for Black Tower Riesling?  It's not just unattractive, it's off putting.  If this wasn't offensive enough, it seems to assume a certain underestimation of human intelligence.  The new bottle model, I assume, is a transition between the old bottle and a new (regular) bottle.   The top half of this halfway model is the same as the old style, solid black and with the impression of texture, like a Gothic tower, but the bottom half is a clear white Bordeaux style bottle.  It's pretty obvious to me that the reason for this middle ground makeover is to make the bottle appealing to the general public whilst not completely abandoning the old so as not to confuse or completely lose its past fan base.  I imagine those looking for Black tower approach that bottom shelf with a blurred eye and would be completely lost were it to have changed completely to a clear glass bottle.  And so it exists, between old and new, probably top heavy and definitely expressing two things at once.

Is it?

It is!  It's a new rock n' roll image!  We've got a lot of heat with this photo!

hellos.

We have plenty of towels..... thanks.
More to come =)