Heat Damage

Summer is in full swing here in NYC and we are having a hot one. For the past two weeks it's been in the high 80's to the upper 90's and quite humid. I enjoy this weather, actually. Not for all year round, but for a few high summer weeks I think it's nice. I'm not a fan of air conditioning - much prefer to open windows and use fans to keep air circulating. The kids are used to it, I'm fine with it, everyone is okay.

Except, maybe not everyone.

This is my wine fridge. I have another, larger one too. When I bought the smaller one I did not have enough wine to fill it. But as they say, "if you build it they will come." Now both fridges are jammed to the gills. Funny thing is I feel like my wine collection is woefully imbalanced and that I could double it and only begin to be well represented in the things I care about. It's pretty efficient though - there is very little space devoted to wines that are no longer important to me.

And still, I suffer from an ailment that afflicts many wine lovers. It is commonly known as wine-under-the-bed syndrome. In some areas of the United States it manifests itself as wine-in-the-closet syndrome. The ill effects of this disease are typically felt in the hottest months, and last week I had a major flare-up. 

I should tell you first that I try to contain this problem to the best of my ability. The wines under the bed are almost exclusively meant for near-term drinking. There are, however, some wines that really should be in a temperature controlled environment. I say this because my plan is to age them and drink them years from now, when they mature. Exposure to prolonged heat above 70 degrees is bad for wine. It compromises the sensory experience one can expect from that wine over time. In other words, it is highly likely that a heat-exposed wine will not smell or taste as good as an identical wine that is properly cellared. Here is an interesting piece of writing on this topic, for those of you who want to get academic with it.

The other evening I was rummaging through one of the boxes under the bed and I noticed that a bottle of Riesling I bought with the intention of cellaring had literally blown its top. The top portion of the capsule had been cleanly severed by the cork, which now protrudes from the bottle. It was a separate piece of capsule but the cork pushed it off. This poor wine is the 2011 Schloss Lieser Niederberg Helden Riesling Spätlese. I bought two bottles in the late spring after my umpteenth experience swooning over a mature Riesling and lamenting that I own almost none. Maybe not the most promising vintage for aging, with its plumpness and relatively low acidity, but I drank the basic 2011 Schloss Lieser and it was great, and I know the producer to be top notch. Why not give this well-priced Spätlese a try?

Why these particular bottles showed the effects of the heat and others did not is a mystery to me. I found that both bottles of Schloss Lieser Spätlese were obviously damaged. The one in the photo is the result of excess pressure generated inside the bottle by the heat, I'm guessing. The other one had sticky seepage coming from under the capsule (but I drank it and the wine was delicious). The same producer's 2011 Kabinett - no signs of damage. The bottles of Weiser-Künstler Spätlese and Kabinett in the very same wine box...no problems that I can detect.

So, I looked through the rest of the under-the-bed boxes and found that there are a few bottles whose corks look to be in the opposite state - they seem as though they've been pushed down into the bottle a little bit. Not all of the wines, only a few. But sadly, they include wines that I care about and had hoped to age.

This one is the 2010 Stony Hill Chardonnay. I bought two bottles at the winery and was very much looking forward to drinking them in 10 years or so. Both have corks that feel pushed down. I imagine it would be safer to drink them soon. The other hurt bottles are the 2010 Pépière Granite de Clisson, and again, it's all of them that have the weirdly depressed corks. There must be something about those particular wines (or those corks?). The only other under-the-bed wine that I meant to cellar is the 2011 Gonon Saint-Joseph and it seems completely fine, with free spinning capsules and a normal feel to the cork and the lip of the bottle. But it also seems rational to assume that those wines have been compromised by the same heat that hurt their under-the-bed neighbors. I'll probably keep them and try one in 10 years. If it's no good, I'll serve the others to Richard Nixon while my other guests drink my properly cellared 2010's.

There is a lesson in here somewhere, but not one that I'm willing to accept. Keep less wine in the house - I'd like to but doesn't seem possible. Or, keep the air conditioner on when the temperature rises above 70 degrees - simply not going to happen. Learn to love my great and age-worthy Syrah and Chardonnay while its really young - seems like a waste. Pay a hefty fee every year for offsite storage, and annoying inventory and delivery fees every time I put in or take out wine - already doing it with a pal, but maybe I should invest more in this, and get rid of one of the fridges too. Win the lottery so I can buy a house with a basement and build a real wine cellar - I will start buying tickets immediately.

This is why so many of us continue to suffer from this painful and destructive condition. There are treatments that can offer some momentary relief, but there is no real cure.

Carbonara and the Search for the Perfect Wine

"I judge a chef based on their roast chicken."

"The best way to judge a sushi chef is to order one piece of tamago, or omelet sushi."

I don't know who said those things, but I understand the idea. Skilled preparation of the seemingly simplest dishes is one of the marks of a great chef. Carbonara might be the roast chicken of Italian cuisine. It is a dish comprised of no more than 5 or 6 ingredients and even the unskilled cook can make a decent version of the dish. But good ingredients and good cooking, as with roast chicken, can elevate carbonara to something spectacular.

Carbonara is simple, on paper, and apparently there is an argument about virtually every aspect of the preparation. Spaghetti? Bucatini? Egg yolks only or whole eggs? Onions or no onions? Guanciale or pancetta? Parmegiano or Pecorino? Good lord...

I've had spaghetti alla carbonara three times in the past week, and that's equal to the number of times I've had it in the past decade. So why now, with the carbonara? A good pal invited me to his out-of-town house for Memorial day weekend and he knows that I have a line on the good meats so he asked me to bring some guanciale, or cured pig's jowl. He had been working on his carbonara and wanted to make it for me during the weekend. Nice. I brought a bunch of wine for the weekend and tried to include things that would pair with carbonara.

In general, my pal makes his carbonara like this:

-Salted water, bring to a boil.
-Slice guanciale, fry in a pan to render the fat.
-Pour off some of the fat, add a good glug of white wine and cook down.
-Crack two very fresh eggs, beat.
-Add a generous amount of grated Parmegiano and chopped fresh parsley, beat some more.
-Take the cooked spaghetti out of the boiling water, allowing some of the pasta water to come along, and add it to the egg mixture, tossing all the while.
-Toss, toss, toss some more so the egg doesn't cook, but instead forms a sort of glaze on the pasta.
-Add the cooked guanciale and some salt and cracked black pepper to taste.

Our eggs were super fresh - local hens popped them out that very morning.

The guanciale was heavily seasoned and had a thick layer of fat. He sliced and chopped it into small thin pieces without removing much of the seasoning.

He beat the eggs and mixed in a handful of parsley from the garden. Some high quality grated Parmegiano too.

We curdled the eggs just a little bit when we mixed the pasta into the bowl. You can see this - the small solids in the picture above. This first version tasted quite good but it was not perfectly balanced. Too much black pepper and salt - we should have rinsed or maybe even soaked the Guanciale first. Still, it was delicious. I imagined a bright and acidic white wine would work well and opened something I'd been greatly looking forward to - 2001 Prager Riesling Smaragd Achleiten. This is a beautiful wine, fresh flowers on the nose and lovely delicate flavors, all carried through the palate on a wave of mineral and acidity. But it was simply no good with this carbonara. The pungency of the dish dominated the wine, there was no fruit at all and this dish needs a little fruit, and the acidity was too strong. We had to kind of set it aside, eat our pasta, and then come back to the wine.

Later in the weekend my friend made another carbonara and this one was perfect, to my taste. He rinsed off some of the curing seasonings before cooking the guanciale and added no black pepper or salt.

He managed to toss the pasta in the egg mixture with no curdling at all this time.

It looked beautiful and smelled great. He poured off most of the rendered fat this time too, freeing the aromatic porky pungency of the cured jowl meat to shine through unobstructed.This time I opened a bottle of 2007 Stony Hill Chardonnay. It was a much better pairing. The wine has good fruit that balances the acidity, and is fuller in texture than the Riesling. It's not a better wine, but it was a way better pairing with the carbonara. And yet, I was not convinced that I had found the best pairing. More research was needed.

So, when Peter and a few others came over for dinner earlier this week I knew that carbonara would be one of the things I would make. And I wanted to try another kind of wine. But what? I decided to ask friends for advice, friends who know something about Italian food and wine. Jeremy Parzen said that a slightly chilled Cesanese del Piglio, a peppery red wine, would be ideal. "It has just enough meatiness to complement the egg and lardons and its natural spice is great with the heat of the dish," he said. Jeremy also said that if I wanted to drink white wine he would recommend a Frascati, a Lazio Bianco, or an Orvieto. "Acidity obviously is a must but the wine needs some spiciness to go with the freshly cracked pepper of the carbonara," he said.

I asked Alfonso Cevola what he thinks is the perfect pairing for carbonara. "Something white and simple," he said. "Maybe a good Frascati or a Verdicchio like Bucci or La Monacesca. Coenobium is a bit out there but I'd try that for an exotic choice. From Abruzzo La Valentina makes a nice Trebbiano (not to be confused with the more expensive Valentini). Something interesting from Apulia is the Masseria Li Veli Askos Verdeca." Some similarities with Jeremy's recommendations, and although most of the wines these guys are recommending are unknown to this Italian wine ignoramus, I began to understand what they were getting at. "Essentially one needs something light with good acidity to cut through the fat of the dish, not too sweet but not lacking in fruit either, and not too dry," Alfonso said. Okay, makes sense.

The problem is, I own literally two bottles of Italian white wine and they are both from Friuli and made mostly of Friulano, and they are richer, more herbal wines. Not what those guys described. So I thought about my cellar. What do I have that is simple, fruity, and with good acidity, but not too much of either? Something dry, but not too dry. Something that would stand up to pungent guanciale and also be easy drinking.

Friends, I'm here to tell you that I served a Provence rosé with my first ever attempt at Carbonara. The incredibly reasonably priced and very delicious 2012 Domaine les Fouques Côtes de Provence Cuvée de l'Aubigue. And it was a very good pairing. WAY better than the Prager Riesling, which is a far better wine, objectively speaking. A better pairing also than the Stony Hill.

My carbonara wasn't bad either, although my friend's was better. I rinsed my guanciale well, removing almost all of the seasoning.

I sliced it too thickly though and it crisped up in the pan before all of the fat could render. Still, it was tasty and I managed not to curdle the eggs when tossing the pasta.

We ate our pasta and my friends were happy. While we ate I asked Peter, who knows a lot about all wine and food, what he thinks is the best wine to pair with carbonara. Now this is a guy who at home drinks almost exclusively white wine - Champagne and Sherry. "Carbonara is a good red wine pasta dish," he said. He has a friend out west who loves carbonara and who loves to open old Nebbiolo to pair with it. "Now that's good," Peter smiled.

Clearly, more research is needed. And by the way, does anyone know a good Brooklyn cardiologist?

Stony Hill - A Visit to the Iconic Napa Valley Winery

It was a glorious Saturday, sunny and warm but not too hot, clear blue skies, and I was with people I work with, people who have over the years become good friends. I had never before been to the Napa Valley, or to any California wine region. We drove north from San Francisco and at times it was startling in how lovely it was. As we approached Napa we hit traffic, the first sign of the popularity of this place as a tourist destination. I saw a sign for Domaine Carneros and then another for Beaulieu Vineyards. We saw large flat vineyards with rows of skinny vines supported by posts and wires, all draped with thin hoses for irrigation purposes - it gets very hot in the Napa Valley and months can go by in the summer without rain.

We, however, were going to visit Stony Hill, the iconic Chardonnay producer, physically located in the tourist carnival that is the modern Napa Valley, but philosophically located somewhere else entirely. Sarah McCrea, the granddaughter of the founders of Stony Hill Winery, and its current Sales and Marketing Director, told us to drive through St. Helena 3 miles past the Chevron station and onto Bale Grist Mill road to find Stony Hill. We literally inched through traffic, finally reaching the town of St. Helena. It took us almost an hour on a Saturday early afternoon to drive perhaps 10 miles, allowing us plenty of time to look at the various shops of St Helena. I saw that I could buy some very cool and fancy outfits for my dog, if I wanted. I'd have to get a dog first, I suppose. I saw a restaurant that looked like what a Hollywood producer's stylized image of a rural California lunch counter should have looked like circa 1972. It looked good.

And then, finally, Bale Grist Mill Road. We began to climb and immediately we left the tourist world behind for this one lane country road.

Luckily one of us saw the sign for Stony Hill.

We drove by a vineyard whose vines were thick and gnarly, old-looking, without irrigation hoses - just vines.

We arrived and were greeted by the very friendly and genuine Sarah McCrea, and her mother Willinda, who said hello and went back to work in the office.

Stony Hill Winery was created when Fred and Eleanor McCrea bought this land in 1943. They planted Chardonnay grapes in 1947 and offered their first wines to friends in 1952. The vines are a lot older now, younger McCreas run the place, there is some new equipment and the barrels turn over, but not a whole lot else has changed. Obviously this in itself says nothing about the quality of Stony Hill wine, but it happens that Fred and Eleanor got it right in the first place. The vineyard plots are mostly exposed to the east, and are on hills with natural springs running underneath - this is how they avoid having to irrigate in the intense heat and dry Napa summers. They ferment and age their Chardonnay in old neutral wood, preferring to highlight the natural aromas and flavors of their grapes, and they avoid malolactic fermentation, preserving the intensity of the acidity in their grapes. People who know about Stony Hill have for decades prized their Chardonnay for its purity and grace, its unadorned intensity and complexity, and have appreciated its ability to improve with time in the cellar.

Sarah took us to see the vineyards and the barrel room, and Milo the Stony Hill springer spaniel accompanied us on our walk.

As we walked from the offices, it was immediate and apparent how far away I felt from the tourist road, how bucolic the scene was.

We walked past a plot of Chardonnay vines and saw beyond that another plot of old Riesling vines.

I looked back at the offices and tasting room and thought, "I could live here."

The old vines were vaguely anthropomorphic in appearance.

They seemed so sturdy and weathered, such beasts compared to the delicate grapes they would give forth, to my untrained but highly opinionated eye.

I looked closely at a Riesling vine and saw that budding had actually begun - early this year, Sarah said.

We reached the barrel room and press. Stony Hill is famous for Chardonnay and produces about 3,000 cases in a typical vintage. There is also a Riesling, a Gewurztraminer, a Semillon sweet wine, and now a Cabernet Sauvignon - first commercial vintage is 2009. There's not a lot of wine, and unbelievably to me, Sarah says they still sell the majority via their mailing list. I guess that makes sense, actually. Why give money to a middleman if people are willing to buy direct?

  

Inside the barrel room we sampled the new Chardonnay vintage, the 2012. Sarah said it was a great year for Stony Hill, as opposed to 2011, which was very hard for everyone in the Napa Valley. 2012 produced balanced wines that show the typical Stony Hill intensity and purity, she said. If the barrel sample I tasted is representative, I wholeheartedly agree. The wine was fragrant and intense with fruit and rock and left a lingering spicy and almost grassy taste after swallowing.

I have been drinking Stony Hill wines, when I can find them, for a few years now. I love the Chardonnay because it is delicious and unadorned and it seems to me that it expresses the greatest aspects of Napa Valley terroir. It is rich and intense - this is a hot place. But it is also acidic and finessed - Stony Hill vineyards are 600 feet above the valley floor. I asked Sarah why her family chose to plant Chardonnay instead of Cabernet, the more popular grape.

"At the time we first planted Stony Hill, no one had really given much thought to where certain grapes should be planted," Sarah's father wrote in an email. "My father just planted what he liked, which was Chardonnay, and three other varieties that U.C. Davis suggested - Pinot Blanc, White Riesling (then known as Johannesburg Riesling), and Gewurztraminer. It turned out that because of the eastern exposure the property was ideally suited for growing white grapes. By the time we needed to replant the vineyard, we had already become quite famous for our white wines, so changing to reds didn't make much sense. It is worth noting that our new Cabernet comes from a relatively new vineyard that has a western exposure that is more suitable for growing red grapes."

We walked a different path back to the tasting room and again I marveled at the scenery - we were way up in the hills here. Does wine made here, in this style, resemble the more industrial wines made on the valley floor?

If you visit Stony Hill you will not taste old vintages, it's not that kind of place. You will taste whatever is current, whatever they still have in stock. And as fun as it is to taste the wines, the viscerally moving aspect of the visit is walking the vineyards with Sarah, Milo, and whoever you came with, experiencing this place high in the hills.

But taste you will, and we did this in a lovely outdoor garden in back of the office area. A happy little pig watched over us from the side of the office.

We tasted 2010 Chardonnay (utterly delicious - the best of the recent Stony Hill vintages I've tasted), 2011 White Riesling, 2009 Cabernet Sauvignon (restrained and expressive, very impressive!), and the 2010 Semillon sweet wine.

As we sipped and talked, we looked out onto a plot of Syrah, relatively young, planted in 1998. This is sold only to wine club members, along with another rarity - a rosé of Cabernet Sauvignon. I've often thought that Syrah and other Rhône grapes should do very well in the intense heat of the Napa Valley - I bet that Stony Hill's Syrah is excellent and I hope to taste it one day.

Tasting these wines I could feel how different they are from the typical Napa wine. These are made to showcase the juice from the grapes grown on their hillside vines, and the soils they come from. Nothing more, nothing less. Now that I've seen the gorgeous setting where these wines are grown and made, I feel like I have a richer understanding of why these wines smell and taste the way they do.  And the prices are quite reasonable - current release Chardonnay shouldn't cost more than $45. I think of Stony Hill Chardonnay as the best wine, dollar for dollar, that's made in the US, but take that with a grain of salt, as I have less experience with California wine than some who are better qualified to make such a statement.

If you haven't tasted a Stony Hill wine, you should. It may change your mind about what the Napa Valley is capable of.

Recent Wines - A Laundry List

During the past two months I had the chance to drink some very special wines, mostly thanks to the generosity of friends, but since I took a bit of a break from writing, I haven't shared a lot. Time marches on and I finally admit that I will never get around to writing what I wanted to write about some of these wines. But I do want to share a little bit:

1994 Stony Hill Napa Valley Chardonnay, price unknown. This is the oldest vintage of Stony Hill that I've had, and this was a brilliant bottle. Delicious from the very beginning, but it was only after an hour open that this wine hit its apex. Elegant, well defined, and crystal clean aromas that showed a lovely harmony between rich roasted nuts, delicate flowers, and pungent mineral earth. Perfectly harmonious on the palate too, still showing hints of fruit, but more about grace and texture, and I loved the slightly oily, smokiness that lingered on the finish. Stony Hill has for decades been making Napa Chardonnay that pleases the old world palate, and the wines are affordable. You won't spend more than $40 on recent vintages, and that's a pretty good deal for what I would say is among the very finest California Chardonnay. If you haven't tried Stony Hill, you should.

1996 Didier Dagueneau Pouilly Fumé Pur Sang, price unknown. I thought this was pretty astounding, although I liked it more than the other guys did. The wine was completely secondary and had very little to do with fruit. It was liquid rock, perfectly harmonious, and with a wonderful depth of aroma and flavor. I've never had a wine like it, never mind a Sauvignon Blanc like it. I wish that I'd been buying Dagueneau's wines back when I could have afforded them.

2000 Domaine de Montbourgeau Vin Jaune, $75, Imported by Neal Rosenthal Wine Merchant. A friend brought over a bottle that had been open for three days, and it was ridiculous. A chorus of strikingly pungent aromas and flavors, as if a friendly elf waved a magic wand and we were drinking the liquid essence of salted, curried cashews. Is this even made from grapes? Such harmony, so satisfying.

NV Bodegas Hidalgo Amontillado La Gitana Napoleon, $18 (500 ml), Imported by Classical Wines. This is the first time I've seen this wine in NYC, and I'm very glad for it. Further away from flor than other amontillados I've had recently, but not so much so. Almost delicate flavors of roasted salted almonds and toffee with a buttery hint to the finish. The texture is interesting in that it is here that I sense the flor character, the creamy feel. Only the slightly grainy and harsh textural element to the finish prevents this from being truly elevated wine, and it is a great value in amontillado.

1995 Il Poggione Brunello di Montalcino, price unknown. Although this wine never finished opening up, the depth of material was evident. Tangled and intense flavors of cherry and licorice and herbs, with an earthy floor. We enjoyed this immensely and it piqued my curiosity about the real Brunello.

1996 Cims de Porrera Priorat Classic, price unknown. We decanted this for over an hour and it was still unwinding when we moved on. I have yet to love a Priorat, but this one was definitely interesting and very tasty. Rich, full in texture, deeply flavored, but not entirely well articulated. Still, with a bloody steak rubbed in garlic and thyme...not sure that I'd spend my own c-note on it but I'd happily drink it again.

1998 Château de Beaucastel Châteauneuf-du-Pape, price unknown. I had this wine about a year ago and it was entirely different this time. Red, red, bright red fruit - high toned raspberries, maybe even currants, some herbs. Strong acidity, nicely structured, altogether a delicious drink. I continue to be intrigued and impressed by Châteauneuf-du-Pape from Beaucastel, Vieux Telegraph, and Donjon, but not as much past 2001. Again, too bad I wasn't buying back when...

1997 Noël Verset Cornas, $75 (purchased a few years ago). A fantastic showing, hit every possible aspect of its potential. There is a bit of rusticity, but not much, and the wine is perfectly harmonious. Vivid bloody brothy notes to the nose, along with stone and fur and hints of flowers. The nose evolves over a few hours in the decanter and continues to enchant, turning a bit olivey in the end. Beautifully structured - firm but completely smooth and gentle, and although there is not quite as much midpalate concentration as you might like, the wine is seductive and complex and vivid from start to finish. A great experience, and Mssr. Verset is sorely missed.

What I Drink Makes the Yankees Win

They say that one of the first signs of insanity is the belief that one can somehow influence completely random events. I will stand in exactly this spot with my feet angled at 45 degrees, and when the subway stops the doors will line up with my feet and I will get on first, and perhaps get a seat - that kind of thing.

Maybe I am going insane, but I like to think of it as healthy superstition. It's October, the time of baseball playoffs, and the Yankees are back in it. It is clear to me that my own beverage consumption while watching the games is impacting the results. If you can decipher the pattern, please feel free to indicate as much in the comments. I think I've got it figured out, but I will test my theory tonight during game 6. Here's what's happened so far:

Game 1 (Yankee Stadium) - I brought a 6-pack of Weihenstephan weiss bier, or wheat beer, to a friend's house. The beer is excellent - fruity, clean, thirst quenching, bitter and sweet at the same time. The Yanks play well, the Angels play poorly and make key errors, Yanks win.

Game 2 (Yankee Stadium) - I bring a bottle of Claux Delorme to another friend's house. We decant it, it's delicious. When it's gone we enjoy the previous night's leftovers - 2002 Stony Hill Chardonnay. The game goes into extra innings, and we drink a 375 ml of 2003 Suduiraut Sauternes. The Yanks dramatically tie the score in late innings during the Stony Hill, and win a thriller in the 13th inning.

Game 3 - (Anaheim) - I have the remnants of a cold, I stay home and listen to the game on the radio (we are prehistoric and do not have a television), I drink nothing. The Yanks waste a great pitching performance by Andy Pettitte and lose a game they could have won - key mistakes killed them.

Game 4 - (Anaheim) - I again bring a bottle of Claux Delorme, this time to a third friend's house. We begin by drinking his 2007 Pinon Vouvray Silex Noir leftovers, and then drink the Delorme, again, just delicious. The Yanks dominate the Angels, winning 10-1.

Game 5 - (Anaheim) - I go back to game 2 friend's house. Deetrane comes over too. I bring Delamotte Brut Rosé Champagne and we drink it as the Yanks quickly fall behind by 4 runs. My friend opens a 1995 Château Lafon-Rochet, from St. Estèphe. I'm skeptical of all things Bordeaux, but the nose is really lovely - very pure, which is not what I've come to expect. Bright red fruit on a cedar plank, vibrantly perfumed, really enticing. The palate is not as strong, a bit dilute in the middle and just not all that complicated, but at least it's not some spoofed up fruit bomb. Very drinkable and pleasing indeed. The Yanks stage a dramatic rally and take the lead in the 7th inning. The pennant is immanent. We finish the Lafon Rochet and Deetrane opens up a 2002 Panther Creek Pinot Noir Bednarik Vineyard. It's fine, but too much on the cherry cough syrup tip. The Yanks lose the lead, and then the game.

So what, I ask you, should I bring to my Bordeaux-loving friend's house tonight for the terribly important game 6? Suggestions welcome, although they will be Monday-morning -quarterback suggestions, as you'll probably read this Monday morning. Suggestions welcome anyway, and I'll let you know what we did tomorrow in the comments.