Back in the Saddle

I haven't written anything in a long time. It's hard to get started again. I've wanted to, but the longer it gets, the more inertia sets in. Perhaps the best way is simply to write something  - anything. Even just a list of recent wines I've loved. If it's fun, I'll write again another time.

The best red wine I've had in some time? A bottle of Beaujolais, but a special bottle - the 2011 Yvon Métras Moulin-à-Vent. This is not so easy to find here in the US, but whoa, it's worth looking for. Here's my note on the bottle: "Honestly, the finest red wine I've tasted in a while. A perfect bottle. Fragrant with fruit, flowers, stones, leaves. Beautifully expressive on the palate with complex fruit and mineral flavors, a structural firmness under the fruit that smacks of Moulin-à-Vent, texturally perfect, long on the finish - I'm trying to mention everything that's great about this wine which starts to feel silly. It really was just a wonderful bottle with a depth and expression of aroma and flavor that is fantastic." Métras is a cultish producer and that might turn some folks off. It turned me off, to be honest. But this bottle converted me. 

Then there's also this bottle, the 2008 Giuseppe Rinaldi Barbera d'Alba. Another one that is not easy to find here in the US. This bottle kind of blew me away. Pure and fresh, absolutely transparent in feel and the earthy minerality is pungent. The wine is so complex too - the finish is a melange of the herbal, the acidic, and the ripe but not overripe fruit (which itself is a melange of bright red raspberry and deep dark cherry). If you drink it now, save half for ay 2 - way better on day 2. I've not had too many Barberas, and I've had none that I loved except for a bottle a few years back by G. Conterno. This one, I loved, LOVED. Is this is what Barbera grown on great soils by a great wine maker is like?

The 2012 vintage of Tissot Poulsard is here and it's really good. For me, this is the Poulsard to buy and drink with impunity these days, as Overnoy is a unicorn and Ganevat costs $50. This wine needs a good decant to deal with the reduction, but it is absolutely delicious. It comes from very old vines and it has no added sulfur (which should raise alarms more than act as a selling point, in my book, but this one does it beautifully). It will greatly please Poulsard lovers but also I think would be a nice way to introduce a friend to the charms of light and weird red wine - it's accessible like that. Cranberries, blood oranges, hard spices, flowers, harmonious and beautifully textured, this wine packs a lot of interest into a very light frame. It costs about $25.

I'm still not entirely sure where I am with this wine. 2010 Weingut Günther Steinmetz Mülheimer Sonnenlay Pinot Noir Unfiltriert, as it is deftly named, might be an intense wine that offers way more complexity, terroir expression, and overall quality than its $23 price tag suggests is possible. Or it might just be an incredibly delicious and balanced Pinot from Germany. I can't tell yet. But I will tell you that I am vigorously enjoying the act of drinking the wine and further exploring this important question.

I still drink white wine. Way more than red, actually. Here are some recent whites that also wowed me:

2007 Fritz Haag Brauneberger Juffer-Sonnenuhr Riesling Spätlese. You know, I look back at my notes from drinking this wine and it's not as though I loved it on paper. But the thing is, I loved it. I've thought about it a lot since drinking it. Maybe it sounds obvious to you if you drink these wines, but the purity, the delicacy, the impeccable balance...it really got to me and I must have more.

2012 Bernard Ott Grüner Veltliner Am Berg. I think this is a great vintage for this wine. It's subtle and quiet, but absolutely delicious and entirely expressive of place and of Grüner. I like to decant this wine, and then there are clean and cooling aromas of sour cream, lemongrass, and green herbs. Quiet, but arresting. And versatile at the table. And about $18.

I dipped into my small stash of the very fine La Bota de Fino Nº 35, and whoa, is it drinking beautifully. This is a Fino selected from barrels in the Valdespino Inocente solera system. The overtly powerful personality of the wine has been tempered a bit and it now thrives on this amazing harmony of aroma and flavor. Complex, savory,  and shockingly delicious.

Just to see what's what, I opened a bottle of 2008 Gilbert Picq Chablis 1er Cru Vogros. It reminded me that it's possible to drink real Chablis, truly satisfying Chablis, elegant and bantam weight Chablis that really smacks of seashells, iodine, and white flowers, for under $30. I like this wine in every vintage I've tasted. This one drinks very well right now, but takes 90 minutes to get there and seems like it will improve with another few years in the cellar. But whoa, when it got there it was rewarding.

That was kind of fun, writing this. For me, anyway.

Poulsard - A Survey of the Current NYC Market

There are dark and brooding red wines, light and joyous red wines, and everything in between, and all can be delicious and satisfying - they all have their place. Poulsard, though, exists almost outside of the spectrum of red wine. As far as I know, Poulsard is vinified only in the Jura region of France. The grapes are relatively large and therefore have a low skin to juice ratio - the opposite of what is prized in say, Burgundy Pinot Noir. And the skins are not heavily pigmented. The resulting wine tends to be light in color, almost like a rosé.

But don't be fooled by the light color as these are, when well grown and well made,  powerful and structured wines with great depth of aroma and flavor. Unusual aromas and flavors, too. The fruit veers towards pomegranate, red currant, cranberry, and blood orange. That sounds precious because it's so specific - but I promise you that it is true. I often find dried roses on the nose, in addition to  those same bright fruits, and sometimes a salty, chalky bass note. Perhaps I haven't had enough experience with the wines, or maybe I'm just missing something, but I find that the wines are more about fruit and particularity of structure than they are about minerals and earth. The structure can be surprising, by the way, because it is firm, while the wine appears to be so light and delicate.

I love drinking Poulsard because it is such an aromatically expressive and spare red wine. It isn't a wilting lily - it's not delicate, exactly. A good Poulsard can stand up to mushrooms, steak, and other earthy hearty fare. But there is no extract, really, nothing other than the essence of the thing. This analogy is overused, but here I think it fits - Poulsard can be Burgundian in its melding of finesse, grace, and power. I misunderstood good Beaujolais for a few years because the wines are so brightly acidic and fresh. I thought of it as a light wine. Beaujolais can be joyous and light in body, but Morgon, Moulin-a-Vent, Fleurie (well, maybe Fleurie), these are not light wines. They are deeply and darkly fruited, and rich next to a Poulsard. I would drink Morgon with blood sausage, but not Poulsard.

The best Poulsards I've had are thrilling, but the problem is, the best Poulsards are quite hard to find and drink. I feel comfortable saying that Pierre Overnoy/Emmanuel Houillon make the finest Poulsard, and although Louis/Dressner imports the wine to the US, we're talking about a handful of cases for the US. I was able as recently as the 2007 vintage to walk into Chambers Street and buy this wine on the shelf for under $30. Those days are gone forever. Now the wine is just not seen on shelves, in NYC anyway. Another favorite for me is the Poulsard made by Domaine Ganevat, whose wines have also become rare and dear here in NYC.

Not long ago I found myself craving Poulsard and I realized that I haven't had a bottle since the end of 2012 at this amazing dinner in Stockholm. I knew that I would buy and drink Poulsard, but which one? What should I be drinking, if I'm not drinking Overnoy or Ganevat? I decided to gather a few friends who also appreciate the glory of this very light and strange grape, to buy every Poulsard we could find, and drink them together over dinner.

Three years ago I did a small Poulsard tasting and there were 5 wines I found to include. Last week I found 11 wines and chose to include 9 of them, and this excludes Overnoy and Ganevat. This probably reflects the rising popularity of Jura wines in general, and also the diligent work of several importers, and people like Sophie Barrett of Chambers Street Wines, who believe in the wines and want to offer them to curious customers. I'm sorry to say that on our recent Poulsard evening all of the tasters were a little bit underwhelmed by the wines as a group, but we agreed that a few of them were quite good.

I've always found that Poulsard is reductive and funky when first opened, and does much better when decanted. And so we decanted our bottles and drank them slowly with a feast of Middle Eastern food. Following are my impressions, but I want to mention that some of the wines that did not impress me on this night were better on other nights, in different vintages. All of the wines cost between $20 and $30, and are currently available on (some) NYC shelves.

My favorite wines:

2011 Tissot Poulsard Vieille Vignes, imported by Camille Rivière. I thought this was the most complete of all the wines. It showed true Poulsard character with expressive and bright red cranberry and blood orange fruit, slightly rose inflected, and it showed the depth, balance, and structure that old vines can bring. It held up beautifully on the second day. I haven't loved Tissot's wines in the past, but this was a really good wine and I would happily buy it again. I was more excited about this wine than some, but everyone liked it.

2006 Domaine de la Tournelle Ploussard de Montellier (Poulsard is sometimes called Ploussard), imported by Jenny & François. This is the current release of this wine in NYC - maybe they are released late everywhere? Overall I think the 2004 was a greater wine, but this is truly lovely, with good balance and resonance, and honest Poulsard character. Others were more excited about this wine than I was, but I also liked it very much and would happily buy it again.

2011 Michel Gahier Ploussard, imported by Neal Rosenthal Wine Merchant. Delicious wine, deeply flavored and balanced, well structured. Again there was no controversy here - everyone liked the wine. No one was super excited about it though, and for me, that is because it didn't show the typical Poulsard flavor package that I crave. But it was very good wine.

Wines that I liked, but might not buy again:

2011 Ratapoil Ploussard Par La, imported by Selection Massale. This wine was fresh and pretty and I enjoyed drinking it, but I found it to be lacking in complexity and it didn't hold my interest in the end, even when we revisited it later in the evening. Certainly a pleasing and lovely wine, but it didn't satisfy my craving. A very good value within the group, and one taster really liked the wine - so probably this is worth trying if you haven't already.

2010 Domaine de la Pinte Poulsard de L'Ami Karl, (bottle gone before I noted the importer - sorry). I've had this wine before and I liked it, but on this night I was the only one sticking up for it, and that's probably because I liked it in the past. The aromas were vastly different from the other wines, showing things like red grapefruit, and one person suggested that it might be yeasted. It did show aromas that are not typical of Poulsard, but it was bright and snappy wine. I'm reaching here - it wasn't so great on this night, and it was worse on the second day.

2011 Domaine de Montbourgeau Côtes du Jura Poulsard, imported by Neal Rosenthal Wine Merchant. I was surprised at how this wine showed because 1) Montbourgeau makes great wine; and 2) the Poulsard, while not the shining star of the Montbourgeau lineup, is still quite good. This wine was so forward and candied in its fruit and it didn't feel balanced, or all that interesting. But it was drinkable and pleasant for whatever that's worth.

Wines that showed poorly:

2010 Puffeney Arbois Poulsard, imported by Neal Rosenthal Wine Merchant. I don't know...Puffeney is "The Pope of the Jura," and I respect him immensely as a producer, and love his Trousseau, but I don't think I'm a fan of his Poulsard. This one was candied fruit and awkward, not rewarding.

2009 Le Chais de Vieux Bourg/Bindernagel Côtes du Jura Poulsard, imported by Langdon Shiverick. This was simple in its candied strawberry fruit, not well balanced, and not typical of the Poulsard flavor profile. It was worse on day two.

2008 Bornard Arbois Poulsard la Chamade, imported by Savio Soares. I was once quite excited about Bornard's wines, but after a series of weird and unhappy bottles, I stopped buying them. This one was undrinkable, I thought. It was vaguely fizzy, candied, without structure, and as one taster succinctly said, dirty.

Sadly, our bottle of 2011 Domaine des Marnes Blanches, imported by Selection Massale, was corked.

Dinner of the Year, 2012 (Stockholm)

I recently had the occasion to be in Stockholm, Sweden (!), a trip for work. The whole trip was amazing, but I want to tell you about one meal I had there, what easily for me is the dinner of the year in 2012. What made it so good? Well, the company, for starters. I work with really nice people. And the wine. The list was interesting and smart, and there were a few gems that are quite difficult to find back home. And the food was wonderful, showing an honest dedication to local ingredients and typical Swedish cuisine, and also prepared with a modern sensibility.

The restaurant is called Volt, and if you ever have the good fortune to be in Sweden, I strongly urge you to eat here. Not cheap at all, but one of those expensive meals where there is no doubt that you have gotten your money's worth.

While looking through the menus we were served this amuse, a plate of thinly sliced cured, spiced pork belly.

And this plate of lightly pickled pumpkin topped with pumpkin seeds. Both were appetizing and delicious.

The bread service was wonderful - crusty, airy, fresh bread, served with tangy local cultured butter and chicken liver paté. We had a 6 course meal coming, and yet we couldn't stop eating this bread.

I saw a few special bottles on the wine list, and we decided not to select from among them, instead ordering them all! And we got the 6-course tasting menu too. We were in Sweden, near the holidays. Why not splash out a little?

First we ordered this beautiful bottle of Cédric Bouchard 2006 Roses de Jeanne Le Creux d’Enfer Rosé. This wine, Bouchard's single vineyard rosé, has become essentially impossible to find here in the US.And it is very expensive. Oddly, in Sweden, one of the most expensive countries in the world for an American, and at this fancy restaurant, the wine was no more expensive than it would be on the shelf at a NYC retail shop. Except it will never again be on the shelf at a NYC retail shop because almost none is made and it is snapped up by collectors before it hits the shelves. It is a wonderful wine and a few years of age amplified the savory tones. After a few hours the wine showed clear bitter herbal notes that you might find in Campari.

We ate langoustine with seafood broth, thinly sliced turnips, caviar, and langoustine crackers.

At about this time I realized that we needed to submit to how good everything was going to be, and we ordered two bottles of Overnoy wine - the 2010 Chardonnay and the 2011 Poulsard. Our gracious and incredibly competent sommelier decnted the Poulsard for us and we enjoyed the beginning of the Chardonnay with the Langoustines.

And then came scallops, with raw cauliflower crumbles, gooseberries, and several "sea-lettuces." Excellent with the bright and expressive Chardonnay. Overnoy bottles are never uniform, and this bottle of Chardonnay was different from the bottle I drank in July. Not as perfect, not as focused. But it was lovely nonetheless.

We returned to Bouchard's Champagne for this fantastic dish of beef carpaccio with almond and parsley puree. Two summers ago I was at a ridiculous Bouchard dinner and we drank the 2007 Rosé and it was suggested that rare beef would be a great pairing. Well, on this night I was able to verify that indeed, this is a wonderful synergy of flavors.

Then we ate Pike Perch from the Baltic Sea, local waters. It was perfectly cooked, meltingly tender, and served with roast cabbage, fresh cockles, and capers fashioned from elderberries. Whoa, this was delicious and expertly prepared. And great with Overnoy's Chardonnay, which was becoming more and more detailed as time went by.

The sommelier appeared with the decanter of 2011 Overnoy Poulsard. "Like raspberry juice," he smiled. And he poured. I've had great bottles of Overnoy Poulsard, and also completely uninspiring bottles. If you drink the wine outside of France, there will be variation. This bottle was amazing, among the best Ive had. Such intense aromas of dried roses, so detailed and complex, such delicate texture and such presence in the mouth. As perfect as Poulsard can be, I would say. A wonderful and moving wine. My companions had never before had an Overnoy Poulsard and they were swooning. It was fun to watch.

We drank it with a dish of "fallow deer," a small variety of local deer. Very lean, it was served with Jerusalem artichokes and topped with fresh juniper berries. Yes, fresh green juniper berries. I've seen only the dried black ones here. These were vibrant and pungent and herbal and very compelling, and they amplified the forest undertones of the Poulsard. What a meal we were having!

After that dish we took our time finishing our wines, reveling in our good fortune. And then we had dessert. The best restaurant dessert I've had in years. An oval of green apple sorbet, tart, not sweet, served on a dollop of white chocolate pudding, white chocolatey but not sweet, topped with shards of frozen green apple and young pine needles. Absurdly delicious. And with this, a glass of sparkling wine from Anjou that smelled like pine needles, something the sommelier selected for us.

An incredible meal that I will remember for a long time. I hope that as 2012 comes to a close, you are enjoying delicious food and wine too, with good friends. 

In Defense of Red Wine

I've been having a hard time with red wine lately. Okay, I never have a problem with mature Burgundy, or mature red wine in general. But when I'm alone and I feel like opening something to drink with dinner, or to just have a glass, I almost always reach for white wine these days. White wine is so much more versatile with food, so much easier to drink on its own. I'm speaking in broad terms, obviously, but I looked through what I've been drinking for the past few months and it's almost always white wine, unless some sort of special mature red is involved.

There could be many reasons for my bias. I did just go to Jerez, and I have been drinking a lot of Sherry. But I think it's more than that. I think that it's about easy drinking - I want to drink wines that clearly say what they are about, where they are from, that do not distract me with excess fruit or tannin, or any kind of excess. Lately, white wine just makes this happen for me far more often than red.

But of course there are red wines that continue to fit the bill. I've noticed that there are a few things that unite the everyday red wines that I reach for lately. They are lighter wines, wines that achieve balance above all else, and also express themselves with finesse and grace. Here are a few current favorites:

2007 Muhr-van de Niepoort Carnuntum Blaufrankisch, $20, Imported by Martine's Wines. This is definitely a wine that showcases ripe dark fruit, but that's only a part of the package. There is an unmistakable white pepper scent (I guess white pepper is more about Austrian soils than it is about Gruner Veltliner), and the nose is entirely graceful and expressive. The wine is perfectly balanced and feels great in the mouth. It satisfies on many levels - there is fruit, soil and mineral, and a pleasant leafy undertone. I must say, I've not been as impressed with a red wine in a while, as far as quality-to-price ratio goes. This is absolutely top notch wine, I bet it would improve with time in the cellar, and it sells for $20 before a mixed case discount. It isn't too hard to find in NYC (Blanc y Rouge in Brooklyn, Chambers Street Wines in Manhattan, among others), but if you're having trouble, try a wine by Moric - more expensive, but also great.

2008 Julien Labet Côtes du Jura, $36, Imported by Fruit of the Vines. Joe Salamone at Crush brings this wine to NYC and it's worth asking about. Objectively speaking, I think that Overnoy/Houillon's is the finest Poulsard out there, but that wine is basically impossible to find and it's gotten quite expensive. Labet's is excellent too. So light and graceful that it seems strange how well structured it is. This wine smacks of dried leaves and blood oranges and herbs and it's completely delicious. But what moves me about it now is how impossibly weightless and light it is, and still how clearly and pungently it expresses itself. If Labet's Poulsard proves to be too hard to find, there are several others out there. They should all be similar in their graceful delivery of Jura-ness.

2010 Clos de Tue-Boeuf Cheverny, $19, Louis/Dressner Selections. Red wines from Cheverny in the Loire Valley can include a variety of grapes. This one is made of Gamay and Pinot Noir. It is a lovely wine - high toned and bright red in fruit, a bit of forest underneath and a genuine crackle of energy that can be mistaken for effervescence - decant or otherwise aerate the wine and the energy is still there. This wine isn't for everyone - it's light and bright and flirts with volatility, and it doesn't offer anything in the way of power. It's not really about fruit either, although there most certainly is fruit. It's a refreshing and light wine that really is an expression of this place and this winemaker. If you try it, aerate the wine before you drink it.

2010 Domaine Guion Bourgueil Cuvée Domaine, $12, Imported by Fruit of the Vines. David Lillie at Chambers Street Wines is responsible for bringing this wine to NYC. This is the lighter of the two Guion Bourgueils, and I prefer it to the Prestige Cuvée, in general. The 2010 is a wine that I really like, although again, it's not for everyone. It is not a fruity wine, except for the first 10 minutes or so after opening. It's only $12 but it is a complete wine - a perfect balance of iron minerals, bloody dark fruit, and acidity, and the structure is firm but doesn't intrude in any way. This is an easy drinking wine that I think faithfully expresses terroir.

Umami and Wine

Wine can have a savory taste, I've experienced it countless times. It is not specific to a grape variety, I find, more to certain places and techniques of wine making. For example, Jura wines, some red and almost every white have a certain umami taste to me. And most Sherries aged under flor. Many Champagnes too. Where does this umami taste in wine come from?

It is glutamate that gives the savory or umami taste in food. Parmesan cheese, fermented foods like fish sauce and miso paste, clams, tomatoes, meat and bones - these foods are high in umami taste. Japanese scientists have studied the umami taste for a long time. One of their discoveries regarding food might help to explain the savory taste in wine. Quoting the wikipedia article:

One of (Akira) Kuninaka's most important discoveries was the synergistic effect between ribonucleotides and glutamate. When foods rich in glutamate are combined with ingredients that have ribonucleotides, the resulting taste intensity is higher than the sum of both ingredients.

I'm not suggesting that there are glutamates combing with ribonucleotides in wine. Is there glutamate in wine? Ribonucleotides? I don't know, but I doubt it. There must be something else going on. But maybe there are certain molecules that combine with others to heighten whatever umami taste there might be in certain wines. For example, Sherry and Champagne both come from very chalky soils. Maybe something of this chalk combines with something that happens under flor to bring this taste. (Jura wines raised sous voile have the most umami taste too - could the yeast layer be imparting something that acts on our tongues the way glutamate acts?) And in the case of Champagne, the chalk combined with extended contact with lees?

Sorry, but I am asking questions that I cannot answer. Just been thinking about this lately, that's all. And the other night I experienced something that really got my wheels spinning. I was eating dinner at Tsukushi, a great Japanese restaurant in midtown, and the chef served a small bowl of tofu and simmered daikon radish, both topped with a type of seaweed that I've never seen before. When it was still dry it looked almost like tangled olive green string, like the material one might use to make hair for a child's doll. When wet, it turned brown. There was a bit of broth at the bottom of the bowl which to me tasted like dashi that had been liberally infused with white pepper.

We were drinking 2005 Domaine de Montbourgeau Savagnin, $35, Imported by Neal Rosenthal Wine Merchant. On it's own the wine was fragrant with orchard fruit and very mineral, with an oxidative complexity and length - just delicious. But with the tofu and daikon dish, the seaweed and the dashi broth interacted with the wine to amplify the umami character of the food and to bring the savory character of the wine to an intense level. It felt during that dish as though I had chicken broth in my glass. And yes, this was a highly pleasurable experience.

If you can explain this sort of thing, I'm all ears. I definitely appreciate the science behind taste. And then there is also a part of me that simply wants to lose myself in the experience, to leave the mystery unsolved, and to drink a lot more Jura wine at Tsukushi.

Exposed - Asparagus and Red Wine.

Common wisdom holds that it's very difficult to pair wine with asparagus. I'm not sure why this is so. Every spring asparagus flood the farmers markets for a month or so and I eat them like they're going out of style. Some wines work better than others, but this quest for perfection is kind of silly, I think.

Not sure if you know this about me, but I do like to drink wine with dinner. And so every spring I try to be thoughtful about what wine, exactly, works best with asparagus. I've thought about the sweet grassy flavor and whether or not it works with fruit-driven wines. I've thought about exactly which type of Sauvignon Blanc would be best. A couple of years ago I came up with something that worked pretty well, the Crémant du Jura by Montbourgeau, a sparkling Chardonnay. I've tried many pairings and feel like I've done my due diligence.

This past week I threw in the towel, I just stopped thinking about it. I opened whatever I felt like drinking and that was that. You know what - it was an odd pairing and it worked beautifully. But before I tell you about this, here's my new favorite way to eat asparagus:

Hard boil an egg for about 3 and a half minutes, so the yolks start to firm but are still runny. Drop the asparagus in salted boiling water for 2 minutes, unless you like them to be very soft. I like them to be a bit firm. How, you might be thinking, does he avoid the horrid pee smell if he eats firm asparagus? Here's how - using two hands, hold each asparagus at either end, and bend it fluidly until it breaks. It will break at the point on the stem where it stops being woody, and no further prep is needed. Drain the asparagus and plunge them into cold water to stop the cooking and to keep them bright and green. My new favorite thing is to top them with slices of this slightly runny hard boiled egg, very good olive oil, salt and cracked pepper. You can stop here, you can drizzle with vinaigrette, whatever you like. This time i used a couple of drops of good Sherry vinegar.

Puffeney's Trousseau is a wine that I've been drinking for only a few years, and with mixed results. The good bottles are fantastic, and they supposedly age very well, but I've had a few bad experiences recently (2005, 2007) and became discouraged. The other night I wanted a light bodied red wine with something of a woodsy character, and Puffeney it was. Wait - red wine...with asparagus? I'm not ashamed, people.

The 2008 Jacques Puffeney Trousseau Arbois Les Berangères, $32, Imported by Neal Rosenthal Wine Merchant, if this bottle is any indication, is a great version of this wine. Initially the aromas are all bright fruit and dried leaves, and the wine has good intensity in a lithe frame. I like the tactile sensation, the graininess of texture. With time the wine harmonizes and becomes less about fruit, more about purple flowers, and very much about leaves, sticks, rocks, and moss. great acidity and balance, delicious wine - exactly why I get excited about and buy this wine. Day 2 was truly excellent, by the way.

And honestly, it was great with the asparagus. Okay, it wasn't all harmony and unity, but the smells and flavors were interesting together and worked well, and I enjoyed my meal. Isn't that enough?

An Evening with the Jura Wines of Domaine Ganevat

I was lucky to attend a dinner recently at which Levi Dalton poured a large selection of Jean-François Ganevat's wines. Domaine Ganevat is in the Jura, in a town called Rotalier. I could try to describe the estate for you, but I would just be sourcing Joe Salamone's excellent article on the Crush website. In a nutshell - this guy is a thoughtful farmer who makes very small quantities of more than 40 wines. His goal is to show the most specific expression possible of the many soils and grapes he farms.

Jean-François Ganevat doesn't have a computer, doesn't use email, has no website as far as I can tell, has never been to the US, and is not particularly interested in promoting his wines. Ganevat's US importer Jeffrey Alpert also has no website and doesn't shout about these wines. They are just beginning to become a regular presence on the shelves of those retailers who care about Jura wine, and this is a testament to how good the wines really are - it's almost as if they are being kept a secret, and yet people are finding them.

I've had only limited experience with the wines, but so far I'm a fan. I drank several bottles of Ganevat's Trousseau in the past two years and I like it very much, but it is very reductive upon opening and requires a serious decant. So do each of his reds actually, and of them it is the Poulsard (called Cuvée de l'Enfant Terrible) that I find most rewarding. The new vintage is 2009 and it's completely delicious.

At the dinner I tasted a red called J'en Veux for the first time. This is a field blend of 17 grapes, none of which are known to wine lovers or scientists. The 2009 happens to be the one estate wine that Ganevat de-stemmed entirely by hand. That's right - in 2009 he used a scissors to remove almost all of the stem from every grape that went into this wine. It is highly aromatic, with bright fruit and flowers, ample in the mouth, and it just feels good. Light in body, low in alcohol (11%), with lovely and intense flavors, this wine will fascinate and delight you if you can find it, and should cost about $30.

And by the way, shad roe with new potatoes and herbed mayonnaise was a great pairing with the red lineup. My first time eating shad roe (I know, I know) and it was an inspired pairing.

Until this dinner I'd had only a couple bottles of Ganevat white wine, and I must say that I was very impressed. Considering the lineup of whites as a whole, I think that they might be as good as any lineup of white wines that I've tasted from the Jura. There are wines made from Chardonnay, Melon-Queue-Rouge, and Savagnin, and there are ouille (topped up) and sous-voile (oxidized) styles.

Levi tested all of the wines before the dinner and at one point he said to me "The 2004 Les Chalasses...wow, it's drinking pretty well right now."

Levi has not had an easy go of it lately, with the closing of his restaurant Alto, but that hasn't impeded on his ability to organize one hell of a wine dinner.

And indeed it was. This is Chardonnay from vines of over 100 years old. The wine is topped up, but like many topped up wines, it has something of the same oxidative character that you find in the whites that are raised sous-voile. Or maybe, this character is actually a function of the Jura terroir, not a result of the type of elevage. Anyway, we drank Les Chalasses from 2004 and 2008, and I thought they were both excellent wines. The 2008 was vibrant and pungently mineral with great freshness and a core of energy that bodes well for the cellar. Several people preferred it to the 2004, but on that night I preferred the mature and elegant grace of the 2004.

I loved the 1999 Les Vignes de Mon Père, a Savagnin from Chalasses vineyard, normally topped up, but this wine felt like a sous-voile wine (and Joe's article mentions that is because the wine was actually not topped up at the end of its elevage). The sous-voile wines were excellent too, including a show-stopping 2002 Vin Jaune.

Jeffrey Alpert, Ganevat's US importer.

The thing to take away here is that there are still great wine makers who make great wines that are not yet or just beginning to make it into the US. Jean-François Ganevat is one of them, and if you like Jura wine, these are worth a special search.

What a Difference a Year Makes

Cellar space is at a premium in NYC. I can't save all of the different wines I would like to age. There are many different wines in my "cellar" (read: wine fridge), things that most anyone would agree should be left alone for years before drinking. It's the little wines that I never seem to make room for, and we drink them up when they're young.

There's nothing at all wrong with that - if a wine is expressive and delicious young, why not drink it? Some humble little wines, though, can improve dramatically with even short-term cellaring, and I wish that I had more space/self control to give them that extra year or two in the bottle.

A couple examples. I never manage to hold any Coudert Fleurie. The old vines Cuvée Tardive I'm good about, but the regular wine...as much as I'd like to sock a few bottles away, the wine is always delicious young, and so we drink it. Another example - all Bandol rosés. As committed as I am to holding a bottle or two, I seem to find excuses to open them.

This is all too common with me. There are so many wines that I'd love to put away, but don't. Such is life - there are choices to make and one cannot cellar every interesting bottle of wine. I drank a few things recently that reminded me of the rewards of storing the humble wines even for just a year or two.

2006 Bernard Baudry Chinon Cuvée Domaine, $18, Louis/Dressner Selections. I've always enjoyed this wine but I never managed to store any until the 2006 vintage. It's just so good, even right out of the gates. Some folk, like the Vulgar Little Monkey, figured out long ago that there are several Baudry wines worth cellaring, the humble Cuvée Domaine included. It's not Baudry's top wine and it will never be earth shattering, but Cuvée Domaine is a great wine that in most vintages is even better with a few years in the cellar. The tannins have rounded a bit in the 2006 and the wine flows freely across the palate. The fruit is rich and the body lean and muscular, the sensibilities of gravel and flower coexisting harmoniously. You will be proud of me when I tell you that I still have another bottle of this. And a few of the 2007's too. I need an underground cave.

2006 Jacques Puffeney Arbois Trousseau Cuvée les Bérangères, $30, Imported by Neal Rosenthal Wine Merchant. Again, this was always an attractive wine. But I managed to hold this last bottle for merely one year and the payoff was huge. The slight astringency that I was always happy to work with is gone now, and so is whatever else that is not essential to the purest of cool red currant and leafy raspberry, the gamy undercurrent, and the stony finish. So agile and energetic, such a compelling example of cool climate mountain wine from the Jura. I hereby renew my commitment to the 2007's.

2007 Domaine de Terrebrune Bandol Rosé, $25, Kermit Lynch Imports. I won't lie to you - I didn't cellar this wine. I drank all mine last summer and loved all of it. But Chambers Street came across a small bit recently and I bought a bottle from them. Wow - the wine is even better. It takes a while to open up, but when it does it really sings. Peach juice, spices, metal, and stone, pure as can be and perfectly balanced. The gamy streak that was there in its youth was not here a year later, but I loved how there is a new dimension to the texture. There are layers on the palate now, and there is a tactile sense to each flavor. I bet that this is just the beginning for this wine, actually. Bert Celce of Wine Terroirs has written about the aging potential of Bandol rosé, Terrebrune's in particular.

A 2008 Houillon/Overnoy Poulsard Check In

Some good news to share on the 2008 Houillon/Overnoy Poulsard, $36, Louis/Dressner Selections. The first time I had this wine it didn't show as well as I might have hoped, and after that I read mixed reviews from fans of the estate. My issue with the first bottle was a persistent effervescence that did not work its way out of the wine even with several hours in a decanter.

But if the bottle I recently had is any indication, this can be excellent wine in 2008. I gave it plenty of time in the decanter again, but I drank a little while cooking and it was immediately better than the last bottle. There is variation here, perhaps more so than with other wines, but that's just part of the experience. There is essentially nothing done to this wine to preserve it, just some naturally occurring carbon dioxide, and that's part of why the taste is so enveloping, why the wine functions as such a clear window to the hillside soils in Arbois.

I love this wine. A good bottle is a special experience, perhaps the finest existing version of wine made from the Poulsard grape. For me, it is the seamless mingling of bright red fruit and woodsy underbrush. The sheer elegance supported by the firm structure. The incredible purity that highlights the lovely rustic elements of the wine. The energetic tingle. A true pleasure to drink.

It is a flexible wine too. I have not done so myself, but I could imagine drinking this with oysters - something about the brine and the mineral element of the wine. It is fantastic with sautéed mushrooms or mushroom soup. And it works with red meat too, although I've not tried fancy sauces or anything. This time we had it with simply prepared grass fed sirloin - salt and pepper, that's it. Also some fresh fava beans with mint, a touch of green garlic, and a little olive oil. And some roasted Japanese turnips. When drinking very complex wines, it's nice to cook simple food.

As good as it is now, I must exercise some self-control and put a bottle away, as reliable sources assure me that this wine is beautiful with age. I meant to do that with the 2007's, but it just didn't happen. Wish me luck this time.

Melon-Queue-Rouge. What is it, Exactly?

Back in March a guy named Nathan from Chicago read this post about fondue and the Puffeney Melon-Queue-Rouge I drank with it, and emailed me with an interesting question:

You indicated (and I've read elsewhere) that Melon-Queue-Rouge is a grape variety. Edward Behr in his Art of Eating number 72, 2006 devoted to the Jura suggested that it was a version or strain of chardonnay. The way he wrote it led me to think that it was in fact chardonnay. I recall him also mentioning something about red stems. There is of course plenty of "regular" chardonnay grown in the Jura, which he wrote about at length. I haven't been able to find much on the interwebs or in my various Oxford companions. Do you happen to know whether this grape is different than chardonnay, and, if so, are the two related? Not sure why I care, but I like to know these things.

Here is Ed Behr on Melon-Queue-Rouge, on page 13 of issue number 72 of the Art of Eating:

Melon is the arboisien name for Chardonnay, and this strain has red stems. Both it and Puffeney's regular Chardonnay have straightforward satisfying fruit. These (referring to Puffeney's-ed.) whites are topped up, one Jura tradition, and yet their style, which somehow hints at oxidation, isn't one you recognize from either Burgundy or the New World.

Nathan - I don't know why either, but I care too. So I asked a bunch of Jura wine makers when they were in town recently, and a couple of importers too. What is Melon-Queue-Rouge? Is it Chardonnay by another name, or is it another grape? Here are some of the answers I got:

Philippe Bornard - (translated by Savio Soares) - it is not Chardonnay. In the 1960's they forgot about Melon-Queue-Rouge, but my dad kept growing it. It is a cousin of Chardonnay. The grapes are very small and prone to diseases.

Nicole Deriaux, Domaine de Montbourgeau - yes, it is the same as Chardonnay.

Alain de Laguiche, Château D'Arlay - I really do not know the answer to this question, I am sorry.

Joe Dressner - it's a cousin of Chardonnay. Now leave me alone.

Philippe Dugois, Domaine Daniel Dugois - it is a special variety of Chardonnay. The stem is red and the grape is more aromatic.

Alain Baud, Domaine Baud Père & Fils - it is exactly the same as Chardonnay.

Stéphane Tissot, Domaine André et Mireille Tissot - Melon-Queue-Rouge evolved from Chardonnay in the Jura. Chardonnay on very bad clay soils near Arbois eventually became another grape, this red tailed grape we call Melon-Queue-Rouge. It is not the same as Chardonnay, but it came from Chardonnay.

Nothing conclusive, I guess, but I'm willing to run with Stéphane Tissot's answer, as he delivered it so convincingly. If you know what Melon-Queue-Rouge is, now would be the time to share.

More Tales from the Dark Side: Wine Retail Horror Stories

Ready for some more strange retail stories? Weird advice from the folks in the trenches? I know I am. Sorry if I sound like a flippant jerk, but here's the thing: it's easy for me to think that every wine store is like Chambers Street or Uva or Slope Cellars. When you are shopping at these stores and you have a question, the people who work there will answer it honestly or tell you that they don't know the answer. But sometimes the hunt for a specific wine leads me away from those stores and the few others like them, to random friendly neighborhood wine shops, and I am reminded that all is not right in the vast world of wine retail.

People love to answer questions, even if they have no idea of the factual answer. People love to criticize without any context regarding the object of their criticism. People love to make blanket statements that are misleading, and may or may not pertain to the issues at hand. And friends, I'm not speaking of the fine men and women who serve our country as United States Senators or Congressmen. I'm speaking of the people who work in our friendly neighborhood wine retail shops. And although you and I aren't really hurt by this because often times we know what we're looking for, imagine what transpires between these folks and 95% of the customers, people who just want a little advice on what to drink.

I think it is the responsibility of the wine store owner and manager to make sure that the sales staff knows something about the wines being sold. It's risky to make things up when asked a question because sometimes we customers can tell that you're making up the answer. And this does little to build trust between you, the seller, and us, the buyers. I'm not at all suggesting that retailers, or anyone else, should know everything. But if you are asked a question and don't know the answer, just say so. Ask another employee, ask the manager, or just leave it at that - "I don't know" is a fine answer, when it's the truth.

Some of the things I've been told by retailers lately make me feel very sad. If I had accepted these things as truth, as I'm guessing 95% of customers do when speaking with wine sales staff, I would be ignorant of my own ignorance (probably already true, but that's another story). Here are a few recent tales, Wine Retail Horror Stories... (I would love to insert drops of blood or something here, but Blogger for some reason does not enable that function).

They Shouldn't do that in the Jura
I was shopping at a large store in lower Manhattan, looking to buy a few bottles of Jacques Puffeney's 2007 Trousseau. There was only one bottle on the shelf, and the wax seal was a cracked mess. I asked a sales guy if he had more bottles. "How many do you want," he asked. "I'd like three," I said. "Okay, I'll grab two from downstairs.""Actually, the wax on this bottle is cracked and I want to cellar these for a while, so if you don't mind, I'd like three bottles from downstairs. I'm hoping for intact wax seals." Yes, I was being somewhat anal, but the point of the wax seal, as opposed to the typical capsule, is to prevent air from getting into the wine bottle.

The sales guy then says "They shouldn't do that in the Jura. The wax seals are always breaking and they don't do anything for the wine anyway. There's no difference whether or not the wax is chipped."

Now, I'm no scientist, but everything that guy said sounds wrong to me. Was he simply too tired to haul a third bottle from downstairs? Was he angry at the Jura and the lovely people who live there? Why say these things? I realized at this point that further conversation was pointless, and simply said "Fine, but I'd like three bottles with intact seals, if that's okay."

Doesn't that seem like a strange thing to say to a customer? That's a New Thing They're Doing in the Jura
Recently I was poking around in a wine store on the upper-west-side, a neighborhood joint that I had never before stepped into. Not the same store where I witnessed the Jura/Jurançon debacle, but it was the same afternoon. The selection was very good, and there were some slightly older vintages mixed in with the usual assortment of '07s, '06s, and '05s. I stumbled across a few bottles of 2000 Domaine de Montbourgeau L'Étoile Cuvée Spéciale, a delicious Jura Chardonnay made in the oxidized style. Two of the three bottles on the shelf had no vintage labels, the third had the 2000 banner at the top. Wow, I thought, I might have stumbled on a great deal here - the price is right. But wait - none of the bottles had wax capsules, and I felt as though Montbourgeau's wines always have wax seals at the top. Maybe these bottles were from an original shipment that arrived 6 or 7 years ago. I asked the very nice guy who had already competently answered other questions - "Have these wines been in the store for a while or are they newly released?"

"Oh these are new," he said.

"And this is the Cuvée Spéciale, the one made in the oxidized style," I asked. This was mostly to keep the conversation going, to help me to determine whether or not I could believe anything else he said about the wine.

"Oxidized style?" he asked. "This isn't oxidized. Why do you say that?"

Okay, so he doesn't know the wine. Whatever, maybe I can find out whether they bought it as a library release or if it had been sitting there for the last 6 years. So I said "But is this something you recently bought, or is this something that's been in the store for a while?"

"This is brand new wine," he said. "That's a brand new thing they're doing in the Jura."

I'm sorry, but if you're selling something you should know what it is. That's not asking too much - that's a very basic standard. Again, it's all well and good not to know something, but why pretend, like this guy did? Can you imagine how much nonsensical "information" is going out everyday to unsuspecting customers at their local wine retail shops...

Wine is Wine
When searching (in vain) recently for a specific bottle of Sigalas Santorini, I went to a wine store that I'd never heard of in Manhattan, just because an internet search said that the store carried the wine. I should have called to confirm before going, but I didn't. When they didn't actually have the wine in stock, the manager took an interesting tactic. He basically tried to make me feel like an idiot for desiring it.

"Why would you want Sigalas 06," he said. "That wine is dead now anyway."

"Hmmm," I said. "I tasted one recently that was delicious."

"No, you don't want that. Get a different wine," he said. "I have another Santorini wine back there now."

"Yeah, but it's the Sigalas specifically that I wanted."

The guy then said "Sigalas thinks he is doing something special, but he's not. Wine is wine, right?"

What can you really say to that? And how many people get their wine wisdom from this guy? Not every store can staff up with the best and brightest, obviously, but this is all too common at our neighborhood spots.

Am I wrong? Am I expecting too much? What do you think - how is the service at your neighborhood joint?

Jura Wine Makers in Town and Odd Happenings at Wine Stores

There is a big Jura wine tasting today in Manhattan, the second such event. I learned a tremendous amount at last year's event and I'm excited to take part in today's event. A steady flow of Jura wine makers has descended upon NYC for this tasting, and yesterday, completely by chance, I had the opportunity to observe one of them on a "work-with," that thing wine makers do with their importers when they're in town - going to various retail shops together to show the wines.

On my late lunch break I was at an established and well respected upper-west-side wine retailer (when searching for specific Santorini wines, one must be willing to travel from Brooklyn) and a man and woman walked in. They both looked a bit weary, they had shoulder bags with them, and they stood and waited patiently near a little table with empty glasses on it.

I understood that they were waiting to show their wines to the buyer at the store. When the buyer came over, the woman introduced the man (didn't hear his name) as a wine maker from the Jura. My ears perked up - of course! They're in town, I thought, and they're probably spending their days working the retail circuit with their "handlers," the people who represent their wines in NYC. I buried my nose in the Greek wine section which was conveniently located near the tasting table, but I kept my ears open. I wanted to hear this conversation.

Wine maker Jean-Michel Petit, of Domaine de la Renardière, at the Jura tasting.

The wine maker, in perfect English, politely asked the buyer, a handsome young fellow, if he was familiar with Jura wines. "Yeah,sure," he said. "Okay," said the wine maker, " We have a Chardonnay, a Savagnin, and a Pinot Noir for tasting," and he began to pour wine. The buyer took out a little notebook and pen. He swirled his glass, sniffed, tasted, aerated loudly, spat, made a few notes, looked up at the wine maker and said "Yeah, the Jura, stars of the southwest in France," and smiled.

The wine maker looked confused, as if he thought his English might be failing him. "Again?" he said. "Stars of the southwest in France, the Jura!" The buyer repeated. The woman, the wine maker's handler, also looked confused. The whole thing made me feel so sad for everyone present that I couldn't help myself. I turned from the Greek wines and I said to the buyer "You're thinking of Jurançon. This guy is from the Jura, in the north east near Switzerland."

"Yes, yes, the Jura," the wine maker said. The buyer just put his nose back in his glass and kept writing in his notebook.

Stephané Tissot and Jean-Michel Petit at the Jura Dinner.

Imagine my delight when later that same evening at a Jura dinner put on by the folks at Chambers Street Wines, this very same wine maker walked in. I recognized him instantly and told him the story of what I had seen. The saddest part is that although Jean-Michel remembered what had happened at that store, it clearly was not the most annoying or hopeless moment of his day.

I'm happy to tell you that Jean-Michel Petit's wines are excellent. Chardonnays from marl and limestone soils are expressive of their respective terroirs (and the plots are merely 400 meters from one another), but my favorite is probably the structured, balanced, and utterly delicious Poulsard. Domaine de la Renardière's wines are imported by Willette Wines, and they are worth seeking out if you like Jura wine.

But c'mon, what's going on out there, retailers? Balls are being dropped. In fact, I've seen several odd happenings at retail shops recently, and I'll share them in another post. Several of them coincidentally involve Jura wines too.

A Guest Sommelier

The other night my friend Peter came over for dinner. We was supposed to have flown from New Orleans to France, but he said something about a Volcano and he couldn't fly. I can't tell you how many times I've heard that one. Next time I'm late for anything, that's going to be my excuse. Anyway, I've been really busy lately with work and I didn't have time to shop for and cook anything fancy. And after I decided what to make, I found myself unable to make decisions about the wines to serve.

I felt kind of frustrated, actually, like I already knew all of the wines I have, and I wanted something excellent but different. So I decided to do what I do when I feel that way about my music (which is far more often) - I asked Peter to be the guest sommelier. When you ask a guest to pick the music, you have to listen to whatever they choose, even if it's that crappy Freddy Hubbard greatest hits disc. Same rules apply with the guest sommelier game. I told Peter what we would be eating and said that he should think about what he'd like to drink - anything. If I have it, we open it, no matter what it is.

We had this conversation just as Peter arrived, over a plate of Speck and a bowl of olives. For this I chose the wine, a fantastic bottle of Lustau Almacenista Fino del Puerto Sherry, $25, Christopher Cannan Selections, Michael Skurnik Imports. Lustau's Almacenista Sherries are solera matured by smaller growers and producers, and distributed by Lustau. This fine Fine del Puerto is matured by Jose Luis Gonzales Obregon. Old Skool Joe recently wrote about this exact wine, which he drank next to another classic Sherry, Valdespino's "Ynocente." His thoughts are, as always, worth reading. We enjoyed this Sherry immensely, with its weightless intensity and smokey walnutty depth.

Here's what we had for dinner:

--Spaghetti with ramps, cooked in a base of butter, capers, anchovies and white wine.
--Grass fed sirloin steak cooked this way, salsa verde, and raw kale salad in olive oil and a dab of fish sauce.
--Oma, a raw cow's milk washed rind cheese made by descendants of the original Von Trapp family, and aged in the Jasper Hills cellars. I'm telling you, there are some truly fantastic cheeses coming out of small farms in Vermont and New York these days, and this is one of them.

Peter thought about it for a bit, watched me put the simple pasta dish together, and much to my surprise, said that he wanted to just keep drinking the Sherry with the pasta. In my many vacillations before Peter took over as sommelier, I never considered Sherry. "There are ramps, capers, and anchovies in there," Peter said. "Those are assertive flavors. You could go with an acidic white wine, but I think Sherry will be great." And it did work out well, although we agreed later that next time we'll try a dry Riesling with that dish (and that Peter will drink Sherry with anything).

When it was steak time, Peter said that if not for the salsa verde he would want something like a 1970 Mouton. "But Cabernet is so inflexible," he said. "The assertive herbal flavors might mess with Cabernet or Merlot. What do you have from the Northern Rhône?"

When I asked why Syrah would work if a Bordeaux wouldn't, Peter said that Syrah is very similar to Cabernet in structure, but far more versatile with food. Sounds good. I don't have much in the way of Northern Rhône wine. What I have is good, but there's not a lot to choose from. Peter selected the 1999 Noël Verset Cornas, $65, Kermit Lynch Imports (although this bottle came from Crush and they bought it from a private collection). This wine was just amazing. My first time with the '99, and it seriously outclasses the delicious 2000, in my opinion. Deeply beefy with interlocking gamy and floral notes, this wine never stays still. So energetic and vibrant, such compelling depth, so wonderfully balanced (only 12.5% alcohol!), and a lovely delicate texture for such a powerful wine. What can I say - we loved the wine and it was perfect with the food. I was sorry to see it go, and again reminded of how much worse off we are that there will be no more wine from Noël Verset.

For the cheese, Peter asked if I had any white wines from the Jura. I had almost nothing to choose from, but we were both pretty psyched to drink the 2000 Houillon/Overnoy Savagnin, $31, Louis/Dressner Selections. I've had this wine before and this was not the best showing. It tasted great, although it didn't have the typical vibrancy. But the nose was in a weird place - it was exactly like an orange wine, like the Paolo Bea Arboreus Umbri Bianco I recently had. It was a leaf day - perhaps that impacted the way the wine showed. Or perhaps it was simply too young, as Peter guessed. It was very good with the cheese though, and once I was able to stop wanting my memory of 2000 Houillon Savagnin, and start appreciating what this particular bottle smelled and tasted like, I enjoyed the wine very much.

I can tell you that I would not have selected these wines with these dishes, and that is exactly what makes the guest sommelier game so much fun. You should play some time.

Lunar Cycles and Wine Showings

I'm starting to believe in the influence of lunar cycles on wine. I'm not saying that wine is better if it's made biodynamically, I'm not trying to tell you what you should do, there is no dogma here. I'm talking about what I'm finding regarding the days when wine shows well and when it doesn't. I haven't done any kind of study, although I might soon try to do just that. But through casual conversations with people who know and love wine, I'm finding that when a wine doesn't show well it turns out to have been a root day or a leaf day. And when a wine shows great, it turns out to have been a fruit day or a flower day.

Disclaimer: I've only been paying attention to this for a few months and following along myself for a few weeks since reader TWG kindly emailed me a copy of the 2010 calendar. And there have been exceptions.

But I kid you not, the calendar has been so reliable that I'm starting to plan dinners and tastings around it. And I'm already at the point where I cannot imagine opening a special bottle unless it's a fruit day.

Listen to this: on Saturday we had our friends Clarke and Sophie over for dinner and we opened 7 bottles of wine. Lest you think that we are lushes, we didn't drink all of the wine, only most of it. Every single wine showed spectacularly well. And yes, it was a fruit day. On its own this means absolutely nothing, of course. But when was the last time you drank (not tasted) 7 bottles of wine in an evening and every one of them showed beautifully? The last time I drank this many wines in an evening was the Savigny-lès-Beaune night I hosted and nothing showed very well. It was a root day, as it turns out. Check that, I drank loads of wine the other day at Levi's luncheon, and they showed very well, for the most part. It was a flower day, and it was the only favorable day for drinking that week until Friday. I wonder, did Levi check the calendar before choosing the date of the lunch?

Who really knows what's going on with these things. I put a period at the end of that sentence because it is a rhetorical question. So please don't get riled up in the comments - I'm not trying to convert anyone, I'm not making any kind of argument, and I haven't done enough to know how I feel about this yet. But as you have surmised, I am greatly intrigued.

And by the way, the wines from Saturday night really were superb. Here is what we drank and ate:

NV Equipo Navazos La Bota de Manzanilla Nº 16, $39, Eric Solomon Selections. Imported by European Cellars. We drank this with my first ever attempt at scallop ceviche. The wine was the essence of Manzanilla, although in drinking the leftovers two days later (on a root day) I can say that it would benefit from a few years of bottle age. It was delicious, but burly and assertive when we drank it, and now it is completely harmonious and gorgeous.

2005 Damien Laureau Savennières Le Bel Ouvrage, $32, Jon-David Headrick Selections, Imported by European Cellars. My favorite Savennières producer right now, Laureau's wines are consistently delicious and very expressive. Bel Ouvrage, anyway, as I've never had his other cuvée called Les Genêts. my first time with the '05, this wine showed more overtly fruity than any other Laureau wine I've had. That's to be expected from 2005, but it was also very floral and mineral with an almost powdery sense to it, and with great poise and balance. I loved this wine and imagine that it will age very well.

2006 Paolo Bea Arboreus Umbri Bianco, $66, Neal Rosenthal Imports. My first time with Arboreus, or any of Bea's white (orange) wines for that matter. This is a local strain of Trebbiano that spends lots of time in contact with the skins and then lots of time on the lees. It was incredible in that the aromas were absolutely the purest of orange fruit, fresh juicy and vivid orange and tangerine. Some rocks too, but I was wowed by the fruit. We drank this and the Savennières with flounder baked in parchment paper (look out, my fish monger is back at the market).

2001 Azienda Agricola La Torre Brunello di Montalcino, $69, Neal Rosenthal Imports. Beautifully rich and dark cherry fruit and a bit of soil. Delicious, but came across as a bit one dimensional on night one. One dimensional in a hedonistic and delicious way. This is probably because the wine simply needs time. I drank the remnants the following evening (still a fruit day) and the wine was utterly superb, showing everything I would hope for from a Brunello. A beautiful interplay of pungent leathery earth and vivid dark cherry fruit, an herbal finish that really resonates, clarity and purity - this wine was a bit of a revelation for me.

1986 Château Simone Palette Rouge, $50, Robert Chadderdon Imports. What can I say here? As Clarke put it, this was a great example of a noble old wine. The nose was of the forest, and very mellow, while the palate was fresh and vibrant, still showing good acidity, and showed that seamlessness that makes it silly to try to describe the flavors. The whole package was really quite beautiful. We drank this and the Brunello with braised pork ribs, creamy polenta, and kale.

2001 Domaine de Montbourgeau L'Etoile Cuvée Spéciale, $26, Neal Rosenthal Imports. What a bounty of ripe fruit! Yes, this is made in the under-the-veil style and is gloriously oxidized, but the brightness and clarity of the fruit was amazing. I assumed it was Savagin, but Sophie told us that it is Chardonnay in 2001. This was great with a Vacherin du Jura, the creamy cow's milk cheese that is wrapped in a band of spruce bark.

And then after BrooklynLady's delicious home made chocolate pudding we drank a bottle of 2002 Huet Vouvray Pétillant, $33, Robert Chadderdon Imports, because we were a bit drunk and it just seemed like the right thing to do. A great showing there, as well. I loved how completely woolly the wine was, compared with the flowery fruit and crystalline shimmer of the Savennières - such wonderfully different expressions of Chenin Blanc.