1 Wine Dude » Chile wine

The Great Big G*ddamn South American Wrap Up!

1WineDude — Mon, 18 Jul 2011 12:00:00 +0000

Whew!

When I agreed with South American PR firm Brandabout to join them on a wine-touring excursion to Chile and Argentina, I never expected to come back with enough material to fill a novella. But that’s more or less what happened – and that’s after shelving the idea for about five more articles from the trip.

Over the last six months or so, I’ve featured the good, the bad, the ugly, and the stunning from my South American jaunt, all with the intention of trying to provide coverage that is more personal, in-depth, and human that you might otherwise find when it comes to on-location wine coverage. While helpful in introducing you to a wine region, the tourist-angle stuff rarely gets into the nitty-gritty of what the wines – and the people – are really like, on their own turf and their own terms.

Hopefully, the stories from my travels brought you close to those kinds of insights, or taught you something new, or engendered an idea to try a wine that maybe you’ve never heard of before. Or at the very least kept your mind of your mortgage/rent payment for a few minutes and kept you from surfing porn…

Below, after the jump, are links to the entire wrap-up of coverage from that trip, along with some images that didn’t make it to full-blown articles but that I wanted to share. As always, I welcome your feedback (comments, emails, tweets, fb messages, carrier pigeon…) on what you liked/loathed/loved about the coverage!

Enjoy!…

Cheers!

A Search For The Soul Of North American Wine Writing (Via South American Wine)

1WineDude — Wed, 29 Jun 2011 13:00:00 +0000

I think traditional American wine-writing may have totally jumped the shark.

Yeah, I am actually going there. And yeah, it will probably take around 1100 words.

You see, last week marked my (extremely) long-overdue second contribution to Nomad Editions’ iPad wine magazine, Uncorked. The long-overdue part is entirely my fault – things have been busy, as in senator-on-the-campaign-trail-trying-to-hide-his-mistresses-from-the-press level busy, enough so to keep me from contributing weekly.

The Uncorked story is titled “My Andean Adventure: One wine dude’s search for the soul of South American wine” and it’s core topic is more-or-less my bout with the Chilean version of Montezuma’s Revenge (you know the title isn’t mine, because I would have called it “Joe’s Colon Vs. The Diabolically Banal South American Budget Wines” or something similarly tasteless), and includes photos of mine as well, taken on a camera that costs less than $200, and so marks one of the few times that I’ve also been a contributing photographer (cue eye-rolling from any serious photographer reading this). You’ll have to subscribe to read the article, but at less than $1 per month for a weekly wine mag that includes regular contributors like Tom Johnson (of Louisville Juice) and sommelier / award-winning author Courtney Cochran, you’d have to be a pretty hard-ass cheapskate wine lover to pass it up.

The thing that got me musing about wine writing jumping the shark was that my first draft of the Andean wine travels article was rejected summarily by Uncorked’s editor, (writer and winemaker) Stephen Yafa. Stephen’s words from the Editor’s Note of last week’s issue:

“When Joe Roberts sent in his article on wine-touring in Chile and Argentina, the piece was wrong for all the right reasons. It was objective, balanced and unemotional. It wasn’t Uncorked, or Joe.”

Stephen is an excellent editor, and like all good editors he has knack for being right…

I’m pretty sure that people don’t read this blog for a balanced and unemotional take on wines and the happenings of the wine world. Objective – or at least as credible as possible within the context of Op/Ed writing – maybe, but balanced and unemotional? No way.

That’s not by accident. Why read a blog – any blog – if not for the character and opinion of its author(s)? In my view, it’s the “personal-ness” of any blog that makes it compelling enough to warrant spending my increasingly-limited free time reading it; if I wanted anonymous, scrubbed-squeaky-clean coverage, I’d go look for it on CNN.

Stephen knows all of this, so when I gave him an article that would have worked for a more traditional outlet, he stopped editing it at the second paragraph and basically said (paraphrased and reinterpreted) “WTF is this? Because it’s not you.”

So I wrote about my gut instead, and managed to weave in my quest for trying to find wines with real soul and character from a region (South America) that is arguably better-known for its near-endless parade of banal, value-for-money selections – and resubmitted it to Stephen. The result was… well, it’s unique. Let’s put it this way: if you could wait for the universe to expand, collapse, and recreate itself over several trillion years while somehow remaining around all the while in disembodied form to read wine coverage, you are still never going to find this kind of story printed in the major wine glossies. I give Uncorked props for having the guts (pun intended) to “print” it.

And in thinking in retrospect about the search for true “soul” in wine in South America – for flawed-but-more-colorful and characterful standouts among a sea of the polished, slightly-better-than-average but ultimately forgettable – I drew a parallel to the wine writing world that seemed… eerily familiar.

So much wine writing is too “safe.” It’s formulaic, and as talented as the contributors and editors may be in terms of their writing and tasting skills, their genius is being lost in following formulas. Formulas are not what you use when you’re going for unique expression – they’re better suited to other tasks, like helping robots make cars. And yet we encounter formulaic writing at nearly every turn in the wine world; I feel as though most winemaker profile pieces could be swapped out of one major wine pub and plopped into any another, and over 90% of the readership wouldn’t even notice any more.

I’m not saying that I have unlocked the Rosetta Stone code of soulful English-language wine writing here, folks. But I am saying that I think the chances of hitting that jackpot it in the major wine publications in circulation today are a lot lower than in the alternative media sprouting up in the spaces in between those pubs.

Wine blogs, and new, edgier beverage publications are, in part, a reaction to the banality of wine coverage. Some of them, of course, ironically fall into that same sea of banality, but the ones that don’t… well, they really don’t. They are a joy to read – in large part because of their passion, originality and breath-of-fresh-air-ness. Like the most interesting wines I encountered in South America, the authors and editors of those publications have character and real f*cking soul. They take chances. Sometimes, like the inevitable X-games-level competition wipe-out, they fail spectacularly – but when they win, they do it in equally spectacular fashion, garnering hundreds of comments or reactions, and continuing and evolving the discussion in myriad unpredictable ways after-the-fact.

I don’t know about you, but I’ll forgive the embarrassing wipe-outs for the big wins, for the two-way evolving conversations, any day of the week. They’re small payment to endure for enjoying the occasional perfectly-executed surfing of the 70-foot wine writing wave. In some ways, it takes the surfers with a ton of courage, talent and intensity to make us even notice the sea, and to remind us how difficult it is to rise above it. Those are the writers and publications that inspire me to take chances and infuse an much “me” into the wine writing mix as I can – the ones throwing caution to the wind, getting back on those boards after each and every time that they fall over, all in the name of pushing for the vino coverage equivalent of a glorious 360-dismount.

Here’s to those chance-taking surfers of the wine writing world – long may they not take things too safely!

Cheers!

On The Road, Off The Beaten Path (A South American Wine Wrap-Up At PalatePress.com)

1WineDude — Fri, 17 Jun 2011 13:00:00 +0000

I know I’m risking turning this blog into a South American wine coverage outlet recently (and there are at least two more posts yet to come from my recent jaunt there). BUT…

Just in case you’re not yet sick of hearing about the wines and wine-related stories I encountered in Chile and Argentina (or if you’re looking for a sort-of Cliff Notes version), I’ve got a featured article running up at PalatePress.com (with corresponding wine reviews) focusing on the off-the-beaten-path, outside-of-the-bargain-bin gems I found during my S. American travels (and travails).

The article also makes me feel good, mostly because it (hopefully?) resets the counter on keeping the “contributing” part of my “contributing editor” title at Palate Press. Anyway… here’s a run-down of the vinous S. American gems reviewed at PalatePress.com as part of the article:

Cheers!

1WineDude Radio: MOVI-n’ On Up (Talking Artisanal Chilean Winemaking With MOVI’s Derek Mossman)

1WineDude — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 13:00:00 +0000

During my March jaunt to South America, I spent my birthday at the Santiago home of Derek Mossman, the man behind Chile’s Garage Wine Co. and iconoclastic director of MOVI (Movimiento de Viñateros Independientes, or “Movement of Independent Vintners”).

Think of them as the collective vinous mice, who are making tiny amounts of hand-crafted wines and are roaring at the Chile’s modern winemaking industrial lions in an area dominated by a (very) small amount of (very) big players who make (very) massive quantities of wine. They count among their ranks a Swiss lawyer, a French photographer, a former submarine maker and a Scottish miner – not exactly your typical band of Chilean winemaking bothers (or sisters).

MOVI have been making a splash lately, releasing wines that are garnering increasing amounts of critical acclaim (guilty! – see my faves below after the jump) and news coverage. In the long-overdue return of 1WineDude Radio podcasts, I talk to Derek about where MOVI sits in the grand scheme of the Chilean wine industry, the over-oaking to hell of wines generally, what makes truly authentic wine, and whether or not MOVI is achieving its vision of “effort and dreams put into the bottle.” Trust me, this guys is good for a controversial quote… or two (or ten). Enjoy!

Some of my MOVI faves from a tasting (of several dozen MOVI wines) held at Derek’s home in Santiago (for more MOVI reviews, check out this twitter mini-review roundup):

2006 Von Siebenthal Montelig Cabernet Blend (Aconcagua)
Price: $60
Rating: A-

One of the best Cab blends I tasted in South America, period. Smokey, spicy, flowing with sweet tobacco and black currants, and a teeny bit of earthiness. Chocolate, black cherries, and more tobacco on the palate and very “juicy” finish. Like standing up to the fearsome dark of night and spitting triumphantly in its face. Kick-ass, indeed.

2007 Gillmore Cabernet Franc Old Vines (Loncomilla)
Price: $35
Rating: B+

Dry-farmed on old País roots, this dark beast has an incredible structure, and is one of the most complete – and most interesting – Cab Franc wines I’ve had in a few years. The dark fruits are there, concentrated but not at the expense of added complexity like dried herbs and spices. Somebody tell CA to make wine like this – on second thought, cancel that, because it would cost like $125.

2008 Polkura “block g & i” Syrah (Colchagua)
Price: $35
Rating”: B+

Made from vines that face the south and get the benefits of cooling climate influences, there’s 2% Viognier mixed in for good measure and the measuring is indeed pretty good. Ripe, spicy and balanced, this is a bottle to open with game meat dinners, pass around liberally, and talk about until it’s gone (and then cry).

2009 Meli Carignan (Maule)
Price: $35
Rating: B+

Another old vine, dried-farmed wine (sensing a pattern here…). Dark chocolate and dep, black plum fruits rule the day here, backed up by a phalanx of tea leaf aromas and wood spices. The long finish has delivers about a dozen different kinds of plums. So you’d better be liking plums, okay? In this case, I think the odds are pretty good.

2009 Bravado Wines Sofía Pinot Noir (Casablanca)
Price: $28
Rating: B

Red berries, a little hint of smoke, and even some chocolate. But the clinchers are the red fruits and mouthfeel on the palate: smooth, velvety and very, very sexy. Hellooooo, date night.

Cheers!

Can Terroir Be Designed? (Behind The Scenes With Chile’s Newest Ultra-Premium Red at Viña Vik)

1WineDude — Thu, 12 May 2011 12:00:00 +0000

“Of course, you know this word, terroir?”

The fact that Gonzague de Lambert, Marketing & Sales Manager of Viña Vik, didn’t punch me squarely in the head after my response to his question – especially given our close proximity at the time, he in the driver’s seat and I in the front passenger seat of a truck bouncing through the meticulously-kept vineyard property of one of Chile’s newest winemaking outfits – is strong testament to his good-natured attitude:

“Sure,” I said, “it’s French for Brett.”

Gonzague, formerly of Château de Sales, is very tall, very approachable, and (in mannerisms) very French (zee accent, zee pursing of zee lips when he speaks…). All the more reason why my joke actually playing out successfully feels, in hindsight, like some minor miracle.

On a warm, sunny, South American Summer day in early March, I visited Viña Vik, hosted by Gonzague and their equally affable winemaker Cristián Vallejo. On a day like that, with full view of their estate (and upscale guest house) in Millahue, one marvels at what’s been achieved in their plantings, and in their lofty ambitions. A state-of-the-art winery is being built there in the hopes of making the best wine in Chile. As in, the best wine ever made in Chile. No pressure or anything, right guys?

Viña Vik is the brainchild of uber-rich Norwegian entrepreneur Alexander Vik, who, after researching potential S. American vineyard sites with extensive soil reporting, settled his winemaking sights on this stretch of land in Millahue (“Place of Gold” in the native indigenous language there) on the northern end of the Apalta Valley in Chile. Carving out a viable vineyard here, in the middle of nowhere (if you were dropped into this hilly, arid, windy spot blindfolded, you could be forgiven for thinking you’d landed in an eastern Africa game preserve) must have put a serious dent in Vik’s fortunes. They wouldn’t give me numbers, but did admit the cost to develop this land for viticulture fell somewhere in the ridiculously-expensive range.

The idea was to identify and develop a unique terroir in South America, and let the wine speak for itself. But can the expression of terroir be designed? Can it bend to the whims and resources of an almost-unlimited wallet? In other words, did it work? I tasted their blending components made from the unique vineyard parcels in 2010 – along with their latest 2009 release – to find out…

The short answer is “sort of.” The longer answer is quite a bit more… complicated.

The place itself, without a doubt, can grow some quality grapes – ample sunlight, temperature-moderating winds, and soils with plenty of minerals. No expense has been spared in the development, and the design for the new winery is impressive without being gaudy. But the site is, vinously-speaking, brand new (plantings started in 2006), and the vines are mostly under five years old – can we really be talking about terroir already?

Potential terroir, certainly. But delivering on that potential? I’m not sure all the money in the world can speed up a process of finding the perfect matches of place and grape that literally took hundreds of years in Europe.

And there is serious, developing potential, based on the 2010 component tasting that Gonzague, Cristián, Mike Dunne and I did in March:

Carmenere

We tasted through wines made form two different lots, and they couldn’t have been more of a contrast. One, as purple as a midnight sky, had fruit that’s as black as it comes, intense tannic structure, tons of tobacco and finish that was crazy long. The other was blue fruits all the way, more exotic but without half of the finish of the first. BUT… it had fantastic graphite notes (I’m a sucker for that).

Cabernet Sauvignon

Three different lots, but way more similarities than differences in the wines. All were fairly dark in terms of red and black fruits, with one being riper/more raisined, another rounder and more mouth-filling, and the last spicier and more structured. I was blending them for fun afterwards, because together I figured they’d make a kick-ass Cab. The main take-away from that experiment was that I totally suck at blending.

Cabernet Franc

Two lots, both of them tighter than drums. One was noticeably more jammy, the other more structured, neither had the spices, herbs and florals that love from cooler-climate CFs. Oh, well…

Merlot

Just one lot, and it makes a big, big, big boy wine. The body was almost a bit too much, and it’s still showing a bit too much oak, but the chocolate, blue fruit and olive notes were downright awesome.

Syrah

Two lots, again very different animals. The first was silky-smooth, supple, soft, had a little hint of spice, a great balance of red and black fruits, and just felt like a killer, complete Syrah wine. The second was chalkier, “bluer,” and tourniquet-tight, revealing very, very little about itself.

Overall, some of it was great, some very good, but none of it came anywhere close to sucking. I’m intrigued, and will be watching Viña Vik’s development closely, because I’m curious how the 2010 will end up in terms of a final blend, and because (as you’ll see below), the 2009 was certainly nothing to sneeze at…

2009 VIK Red Blend (Millahue)
Price: $100
Rating: A-
Carmenere (63%), Cabernet Sauvignon (35%), Cabernet Franc (1.5%), Merlot & Syrah (0.5%)

There’s soooo much going on here. Spices, graphite, mixed olives, fig, black currant, plums, herbs… The wine is a bit deceptive, in that it’s inky dark but the darker fruits and tannic grip don’t hit you until the end when you’re drinking it. And it’s lively and vibrant, too, which keeps it from feeling jammy and gives some hint that it will age well and maintain a the ability to play nicely in the food playground, provided you invite some roasted meat to that party. “Dusty tannins” is a phrase that’s bordering on trite but if these tannins don’t have a dusty character then I’m gonna eat my shoes.

The site is just too young, I think, to produce fruit complex and unique enough to marry “Chile-ness” or “Millahue-ness” into the mix for this wine. It’s great drinking, no doubt – but it could (with the exception of a few hints of things to come, particularly in the ripe and expressive Carmenere that makes up over 60% of the bend) have come from almost anywhere. Almost.

So I’m not going to call it the best wine in Chile, and I’m not even going to call it a unique expression of terroir just yet. But I am going to call it one hell of an elegant, tasty, contemplation-worthy wine, and a fantastic start for a group with much more ambitious aims.

If I learned anything at Viña Vik, it’s that you can accelerate the production of really, really good juice, but you can’t speed up the development of soul – only the place itself can decide when it wants its spirit the to make the true transmogrification from land to wine, and like falling in love, it’s never in any hurry.

Cheers!