Uhm, like what is this stuff?
I taste a bunch-o-wine (technical term for more than most people). So each week, I share some of my wine sample tasting notes via twitter (limited to 140 characters). They are meant to be fun, quickly-and-easily-digestible reviews. Below is a wrap-up of the twitter reviews from the past week (click here for the skinny on how to read them), along with links to help you find them so you can try them for yourself. Cheers!
- 08 Calluna Vineyards Cuvee Red (Chalk Hill): Ah, the deep dark cherry & licorice. But things are a little bit hot down in those depths $27 B >>find this wine>>
- 09 Steininger Gruner Veltliner Grand Gru (Kamptal): Hefty! Give it time & the spice & veggies will peep out from behind those pears. $24 B >>find this wine>>
- 99 Ratzenberger Bacharacher Wolfshohle Riesling Spatlese (Mittelrhein): Orange, honey, more vinyl than a 70s sofa & a heck of a value $29 B+ >>find this wine>>
- 03 Chateau Lagrange (Saint Julien): Black cherry, blackberry, black earth, and definitely not quite enough time in the bottle yet. $40 B+ >>find this wine>>
- 08 Wild Horse Unbridled Bien Nacido Vineyard Chardonnay (Santa Maria Valley): Well, helloooo there, you’re a cheeky thing, aren’t you? $24 B >>find this wine>>
- 08 Chateau Tanuda Noble Baron Shiraz (Barossa): So much blackcurrant & potential age-worthiness it could be Cab. Miss the pepper, tho $50 B+ >>find this wine>>
- 08 Draconis Zinfandel Lodi “French Oak” (Lodi): Wickedly complex, spicy side of Zin. Should keep hedonists happy for several years. $28 B+ >>find this wine>>
- 10 Martin & Weyrich Moscato Allegro (CA): Honey, flowers & a flirty streak; in this case, flirting w/ (but happily avoiding!) cloying $12 B- >>find this wine>>
- 09 Concannon Selected Vineyards Pinot Noir (Central Coast): Solid red berry performer but I’d trade in the 2nd round for a higher pick $9 C+ >>find this wine>>
- 09 Dry Creek Vineyard Fumé Blanc (Sonoma County): Patience, grasshopper, the grapefruit will arrive… & you’ll be glad when it does. $12 B >>find this wine>>
- 07 Laumann Family Estate Cambiata Tannat (Monterey): Flowers, spices, plum, anise, chest-hair-inducing tannins & a whole lot to love. $28 B+ >>find this wine>>
- 07 Bonny Doon Vineyard DEWN Bien Nacido Syrah (Santa Maria Valley): Savory peppery red/blue fruits to savor & pepper your taste buds. $40 B+ >>find this wine>>
- 09 Pascal Jolivet Attitude Sauvignon Blanc (Loire): Starts shy, but gets on a mineral-driven, lemony gabby streak once it gets going. $16 B >>find this wine>>
Sad news reverberated through the wine world recently, with particular resonance here on the Right Coast. Deb Whiting, whose culinary talents at Red Newt Bistro provided a near storybook compliment to her husband David’s winemaking skills at the Finger Lakes winery that they co-owned, died last week in an automobile accident. David Whiting was also injured in the crash.
I count myself lucky to have been the recipient of the Whitings’ hospitality a small handful of times. I can recall raving to friends about the cooking at the Bistro after I’d visited as a tourist, years ago, long before the idea of wine writing had ever wormed its way into my mind. That visit was during one of the first of what would become many wine-centric vacations for me, and it was one of the early formative moments at the start of my personal journey with wine.
Red Newt’s wines are the kind that move people to expand their vinous horizons, and are among the best in all of the Finger Lakes. It’s not just the better-known white wines like Rieslings and Gewurztraminers that are Red Newt stand outs, either: David’s 2007 Sawmill Creek Vineyards Cabernet Franc and 2007 Glacier Ridge Cabernet Franc are grand, stunning Right Coast reds, both of which had me swooning when I sampled them at Taste Camp East, just over a year ago.
I didn’t really know Deb Whiting – I only knew of her accomplishments. But others who did know Deb well have been celebrating her life in touching statements over the past several days…
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“This…. this was all vineyards of Malbec…”
They say the Italian influence runs strong in Argentina, and nowhere does it look stronger than in the face of our driver, Carlos Tizio Mayer – Plump, Roman-nosed and topped with a wavy shock of grey hair, he could be any of a dozen Italian uncles plucked straight from of the memories of my youth growing up in Wilmington’s “Little Italy.” He is driving with one hand, and waving to articulate his words with the other (as they saying goes, if you want to get an Italian to stop talking, hold down his hands). He’s waving towards the South American urban sprawl passing through the view from my passenger-side window.
Even his cadence seems Italian – or, I should say eeeeee-TAL-haaaaahn – deliberate, slow, and almost bearing a sing-song quality. I have plenty of time to consider the nuances, as Carlos is talking nearly non-stop during a two hour pickup truck ride (with me, uncomfortably, in the back “seat”) from downtown Mendoza to the small town of Vista Flores, home to the winemaking properties of Clos de los Siete, and the vineyards which Carlos maintains as their General Manager.
Carlos is holding court with his captive audience during our drive, but I’m only paying half attention. For one, Argentina’s roads aren’t exactly conducive to legible pen-and-paper note-taking; for another, I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes off of the view to our west, where Tupungato, the massive Pleistocene-era statovolcano, is also holding court. Tupungato is a giant among giants, towering over most of its Andean neighbors in a stunning, unmoving testament to the immense pyroclastic forces that, an immense amount of time ago, poleaxed an equally-immense stretch of land between what is now Chile and Argentina.
While I stare out the window waiting for the morning sun to get high enough to change the snow-capped peaks from auburn to bright white, Carlos continues without pause his history lesson of Argentine grapegrowing.
“We had fifty thousand hectares, now, it’s about thirty thousand” he says. The vineyard plantings around Mendoza gave way to sprawl in the 1980s, when local consumer tastes changed. Domestic per capita wine consumption here in the last twenty-five years has decreased from eighty liters a year to “less than thirty. The younger generation is drinking soda… and beer.”…
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We wine geeks review wines in all manner of differing ways. There’s nearly as much variety in those review systems as there are in wine styles. Points. Stars. In my case, grades and badges.
And we’re social about it, too – CellarTracker.com is pretty much the world’s largest wine review repository at this point (closing in on 2 million reviews at the time of this post), and for the most part it’s populated with ratings penned by people who are not professional wine critics; they just want to catalog – and share – their thoughts on their encounters with world’s most awesome beverage.
Seems to me the most social and dead-simplest wine review, though – one that even makes 140-character twitter reviews seem overly-verbose by comparison – would be the Like button.
Yes, I’m serious. I think.
Of course, I’m talking about the thing that publicly alerts other Facebook users to the fact that enjoyed a post/status/photo/brand/etc. It might actually be more accurate to say that the Like button click means that you took a few seconds out of your busy day to tap on a button because other people also clicked on it, but that’s not the Like button’s fault (it’s more human nature’s fault). You can lump Google’s recent foray into the social approval space – the +1 button – into the same camp, and feel free to use that interchangeably here whenever I mention the Like button (the concepts are, from what I can discern, pretty much identical – let people know publicly what you like in a social setting on-line). And the concept is now ubiquitous on the ‘global interwebs’: even blog comment systems have them for individual comments. The Like button also refers people who buy, and when it does they buy more stuff. Only a matter of time before it takes over the wine world, right?
No points, ratings, or even words. You dig the wine, you +1 it; you enjoy sipping that vino, you ‘Like’ it. Done and dusted, end of discussion.
Or is it?…
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