Bottle Musings

Last weekend I had the distinct pleasure of being part of my nephew Jacob’s wedding.  Always a time for celebration and happiness, weddings remind us that blending the fortunes, backgrounds, personalities, cultures, and families of two individuals frequently results in something more complex, interesting, and beautiful than could have been predicted by just imagining a summation of all those things.  Not surprisingly (although thankfully not during the wedding ceremony), my thoughts began to drift to an analogous concept in winemaking.

Single varietal wines and labeling (presenting wines as a single grape variety like Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir, Chardonnay, etc.) is a very recent development in the history of wine.  It’s truly a “New World” phenomenon that started at the end of Prohibition in the United States as a way to encourage California vineyard owners to plant species of vinis vinifera that would be most suited to the micro climates in the Napa and Sonoma Valleys,  Central Coast region, etc.  As the American wine culture gained acceptance on the world stage, the practice spread throughout the rest of the New World wine regions (North and South America, South Africa, Australia, etc.) and became firmly established in the wine boom of the 1970s and 80s.

In the Old World (France, Italy, Spain, etc.) the centuries old practice of presenting wine by it’s regional name still maintains, with a few exceptions.  For example, wine produced in the Bordeaux region of France is a blend of five or six (typically) grape varietals including Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, Petit Verdot, Malbec, and Carmenere (although Malbec and Carmenere are used less and less these days).  Each of these varietals lends its own particular character to the final blend of the wine.  While the blend itself can vary – wines produced on the Left Bank of the Gironde are primarily Cabernet based and wines produced on the Right Bank are primarily Merlot based, for example – all wines produced in the region under strict laws insuring quality and consistency are presented as Bordeaux.

And don’t even get me started about Chateauneuf du Pape!  Traditionally, there are 13 grape varieties used in that region!

Even in regions where the wine is single varietal wine, the labeling is still by region.  For example in France’s Burgundy region, red wines are typically single varietal Pinot Noir and white wines are single varietal Chardonnay.  However AOC rules (the governing rules of wine labeling/production in France) prohibit labeling the wines by the varietal.  They are presented as . . . . Burgundy.

Long before the complex blending rules evolved in Europe and in other parts of the world where the blend is driven not by law but by decades or even centuries of experimentation to insure the finest wine producible in a given region, blending was more a matter of practical husbandry than artistic expression.  For much of its history, wine was simply a product of “field blending” where vine growers would harvest whatever was in their fields without much attention to varietal (largely because they had no way of distinguishing among varietals).  The blend was driven by whatever grapes thrived in that particular location.  In terms of the Creator-generated conditions of the region, it was a specific blend, but in terms of the wine maker it was purely a matter of chance.

A few modern wine-makers still find success with field blends.  This year, Lisa and I (along with friends Chat and Sonya York) visited David Coffaro’s winery in Dry Creek Valley California.  Coffaro left San Francisco in 1979 and bought 20 acres in what was then a pretty remote area.  For the first several years he sold his vineyard production to Ernest and Julio Gallo.  In the mid 1990s, however, he ventured into winemaking.  Today he produces about 5-7,000 cases per year and tries to maintain that using all estate grown fruit (in lean years he has to outsource a bit).

He has his twenty acres mapped out to the specific row in terms of varietals grown.  You can see his vineyard map at http://www.coffaro.com/diary/diarypics/vineyardmap.pdf.   From these varietals, he typically blends (by his own sense of taste) to get just the right final product.  However, he also annually produces a wine called Block 4 which is a “field blend” of the varietals grown in that section of the vineyard.  As you might imagine from year to year the yield of the vines in Block 4 varies so the exact makeup of the wine changes with each vintage.  We bought a couple of bottles of 2010’s Block 4 and it was a reminder that sometimes Nature is the best winemaker!  It was delicious!

The truth is that many “single varietal” wines from California actually have at least a couple of varietals blended.  Federal law only requires that 75% of the wine in a bottle be consistent with the varietal on the label, so that Cab you had for dinner last night with your steak may have had as much as 25%  of one or more other varietals.  For example, a winemaker will often add Merlot to a Cabernet to give a bit of silkiness and a softer mouth feel to the normally stern Cab.  Malbec adds even more complexity and interest.  In the end, you get a much more interesting and drinkable wine.

So whether you depend on Mother Nature to determine the final ratio in a “field blend” or you trust a favorite winemaker to express him/herself through the art of the blend in the winery, enjoy the fact that the whole of a blend is usually much more than jus the sum of its parts.  And that’s what I believe to be true about marriage, Jacob and Klacie.  So enjoy these next several years of barrel- and bottle-aging.  You’re both bringing some very strong, interesting, and beautiful characteristics to this blend.  Over time we will all look forward to the wonderfully complex and intense wine that your marriage will become.  And when you’re ready, we’ll discuss this further over a nice bottle from my collection I’m saving just for you guys !

Wine can make us reflective . . . thoughtful.  It can help us celebrate, facilitate good conversation, and enhance our appreciation of food, music, and art.  It even aids in the interpretation of poetry and literature.

Can it teach us anything about life?  I’m sure you won’t be surprised that I will argue that it most certainly can.

Every glass . . . even every SIP . . . of wine is a unique and complex experience that is the result of a myriad of factors and environmental characteristics some of which are defined in the moment, but many of which exerted their influence months and sometimes even years before bottling.  The grape varietal, the terroir (that mystical nexus of long term climatological, geological, and biological characteristics tempered by more immediate weather and environmental factors), the culture, and the winemaker’s personality all contribute to the magic that occurs when we taste.

And in most wine producing areas in the world, the culture has developed specific techniques relative to the type of wine produced that elicit the best possible features of the wine.  One clear illustration of this can be found on the eastern shores of Lake Garda in northern Italy in the Valpolicella region.

Not far from Verona, that legendary city where Romeo and Juliet’s stars crossed so tragically, Valpolicella is second only to Chianti in terms of Italian wine production.  The most famous and sought after wine of Valpolicella is the rich and luscious Amarone.

Typically a blend of Corvina, Molinara, and Rondinella grapes, Amarone is produced in a unique tradition.  Once harvested, the grapes are left in bunches to dry and “raisinate” in special drying rooms in a process called “passito.”  The process reduces the volume of the available juice at pressing by at least one-third, but really intensifies the flavor and character which shows in the rich, dark, fruitful wine.  Because the sugar level of the concentrated juice is very high, full fermentation yields a wine high in alcohol but also high in flavor and very full-bodied.

Slightly less well known internationally, but equally appreciated by savvy wine drinkers is the “second” wine of the region called “Ripasso.”  The process by which Ripasso is produced is perhaps even more interesting than the “passito” process used in Amarone wine.

Each Autumn once the selected grapes for Amarone have been placed in the drying rooms where they’ll spend the next few months raisinating, the remaining grapes are crushed and fermented to produce standard Valpolicella Classico wine.  In late January or early February after the partially dried grapes are crushed and the juice is extracted and sent to fermentation for the Amarone wine, some of the Valpolicella Classico (already fermented into decent wine) is placed over the still sugar-rich skins of these grapes starting a second fermentation.  This “re-passing” or “Ripasso” yields a very full-bodied, rich, flavorful wine that rarely disappoints.

My first experience with Amarone and Ripasso came when Lisa and I stayed at a wonderful Bed and Breakfast called Dimora Bolsone in Gardone Riviera on the western shore of Lake Garda.   A wonderful local restaurant, Locanda Trattoria Agli Angeli provided the perfect introduction to these great northern Italian wines.

But I know you’re wondering how all this applies to my earlier premise – that wine can teach us something about life.  Well . . .

This past week has provided me opportunity to visit with all three of my children, several of my nieces and nephews, three of my five siblings, my parents, and some old friends (of my parents’ generation) who have known me for more than four decades and still love me!  I always love spending time with family and friends and this several days has been no exception.

And suddenly I realized . . . I, too, am a unique product of the “terroir” and culture of which I have originated.  The places in which I grew up . . . the parents and siblings who raised me . . . the friends (and parents of friends) who cultivated and tended “the vines” . . . obviously the wonderful wife of 32 years who has frequently “pruned” me . . . even the three great kids whom I’ve managed not to damage too terribly.  ALL these have contributed to the “me” of this moment. 

And what’s more, I’m not yet a fully finished product.  I get poured over the better quality grapes of current friendships, re-engaged old relationships, new and different experiences (both my own and those of my family and friends) and I get a chance to go through yet another “fermentation” which in the end makes me more flavorful, bolder, and certainly richer.

So it’s true . . . like the best wines, I’m just getting better (or maybe just more complex and interesting) with age!

If you’ve seen the movie “Sideways” you know that Miles (one of the main characters) has a deep and profanity laced aversion to Merlot.  After the movie was released, winemakers swore to what they called “the Sideways effect” – a steep lowering of demand for Merlot and a significant uptick in Pinot Noir sales (which Miles strongly prefers in the movie).  This purported effect is so well known, in fact, that the American Association of Wine Economists published a Working Paper in 2008 studying the relative change in Merlot and Pinot Noir demand post-Sideways.  Complete with Multivariate Regression Analysis, the paper contends that while Merlot demand did decrease slightly after the movie, the increase in demand for Pinot Noir more than made up the difference, so the wine industry as a whole actually benefitted from the entire controversy.

The bad rap that Miles gives Merlot is the result of the perception that Merlot (by the early 2000’s) had become the wine of choice for suburbanites and soccer moms stopping by Safeway on the way home and picking up a random bottle for dinner.  But his irrational distaste for this rich and silky varietal bucks significant historical precedent.

Merlot is one of the six traditional grape varietals (along with Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Petit Verdot, Malbec, and Carmenere) allowed to be used in blends produced in the Bordeaux region in France.  In fact, Merlot is the most planted varietal in that legendary region.  Generally speaking,  wines produced on the left bank of the Gironde estuary (which divides the region) in the regions of Medoc, Haut-Medoc, Saint Julien, Pessac-Leognan, and others  use Cabernet Sauvignon as the main grape, with the others blended in lesser proportion, but Merlot constitutes the  highest varietal proportion in the wines produced on the right bank in appellations like Saint-Emilion and Pomerol.

Saint-Emilion is, in my opinion, one of the most beautiful villages and areas of all France.  With its monolithic church and winding cobblestone streets, it is surrounded by gently rolling hills covered with vineyards (some of which were planted by the Romans in the second century) and dotted by stately chateaux.

Situated in the Aquitaine region, the Bordeaux area (and especially Saint-Emilion) have always had a strong relationship with England.  As the wife of Louis VI, Eleanor was queen of France.  However, she got that marriage annulled and married Henry Plantagenet who became Henry II, king of England making Eleanor his queen.  Because of this special relationship, England had first right to the excellent wines of Eleanor’s homeland and Bordeaux wines enjoyed duty-free status for export to England (unlike wines from the rest of France).  So it’s no wonder that Bordeaux (known in England as Claret) became the most popular wine in the world with the help of the largest wine market of the day.

We picked up a few bottles of a 2001 Saint-Emilion from Chateau Destieux at a little wine shop when we were in Saint-Emilion a few years ago.  Over the last couple of weeks, we’ve opened a couple of our bottles with some good friends (to celebrate Lisa’s birthday) and enjoyed the magic of Merlot.  Aging for ten years in barrel and bottle means that all the tannins and harsh alcohol burn of a too-young wine have given way to the soft, silky, supple tones of the fruit.  And what you get is just spectacular.  This wine sings like Brandi Carlile . . . smooth, but with that undercurrent of raw experience.  The sound of a life truly lived.

Given that much of the wine purchased in America is consumed within a few hours after it’s bought (and certainly within a year or two of its vintage), I really enjoy opening an older bottle and thinking about what was happening when the grapes were harvested and crushed and what the wine has seen during its aging.

So much has happened in our lives in the ten years since these grapes were picked and crushed and this wine was born.  A lot of   good things . . . and some not-so-good things.  But at the end of the day, all those experiences make us who we are.  Just like all the things that make this wine what it is.  I only hope I’ve aged as gracefully and the end product is as subtle, smooth, and pleasant.

Blogger’s Note:  I want to preface this post with the old adage, ‘All things in moderation.’  You might get the impression when reading this particular post that I spend all my days drinking wine.  Not true.  In fact, I probably don’t get the medical benefit that derives from one or two glasses of red wine per day, not because I drink MORE than that, but because I drink LESS.  Days and even weeks go by when I don’t have a single glass . . . which makes it all the more enjoyable when I do, right?  So, with that caveat in place . . . . read on!

I love wine.  No secret, right?  I enjoy it on a lazy Saturday afternoon or on a weekday evening when a couple of glasses stretch out across a few hours.  I enjoy it late at night while listening to music and talking with friends.  I love to drink it inside kicked back in a comfortable chair.  I love to drink it outside under a tree or under the stars.  I love it for a lot of reasons.

Maya (from the movie, Sideways) probably articulates my thinking best when Miles asks her how she became enamored with wine.  About halfway into the conversation she says, “And the more I drank, the more I liked what it made me think about.”  She goes on to say, “I like to think about the life of wine.  How it’s a living thing. I like to think about what was going on the year the grapes were growing; how the sun was shining; if it rained. I like to think about all the people who tended and picked the grapes. And if it’s an old wine, how many of them must be dead by now. I like how wine continues to evolve, like if I opened a bottle of wine today it would taste different than if I’d opened it on any other day, because a bottle of wine is actually alive. And it’s constantly evolving and gaining complexity. That is, until it peaks. And then it begins its steady, inevitable decline.  And it tastes so good.” (Okay, so I edited a word or two because my mom might be reading this post.

Anyway, I really think Maya expresses it well.  But the truth is, most wine is at its best when it’s consumed with food.  I mean, that was really the original purpose anyway, right?  And some wines  – most wines actually – only reach their finest, most spectacular presentation when paired with exactly the right food.

I was reminded of that again this past week.  There’s a little restaurant on Greenville Avenue that Lisa and I have come to love over the last several years called, “The Grape.”  Frankly, one of the greatest things about living downtown is that we’re only about five minutes away from The Grape.  We first discovered it when Lisa attended a cooking class several years ago taught by Chef Brian Luscher, who owns The Grape with his wife Courtney, who is the restaurant’s GM and who manages the “front of house” with a flair commensurate with Brian’s artistry in the kitchen.

While we love going to The Grape on almost any occasion (including to have the absolute BEST hamburger in Texas only served on Sunday and Monday), we have come to really enjoy attending their monthly “Chef’s Come-As-You-Are” Wine Dinners.  Each month, Courtney invites a different winery or distributor to showcase their product and Brian creates a menu designed to show off the wines at their best.

This week the dinner featured wines from Washington State.  The first wine was a 2007 Northstar Merlot (93 WE, 92 WA, 91 WS).  The merlot grapes were blended with cabernet sauvignon and petit verdot in a “Right Bank” Bordeaux style.  Northstar is a small producer in the Walla Walla Valley, and Winemaker Merf Merfeld was at The Grape to show off his “baby.”  Chef Brian Luscher chose to pair the Merlot with a parmesan gnocchi with sweet and spicy Italian sausage, roasted red peppers, and arugula pesto cream.  Not only did I tell Brian that his gnocchi is the best I’ve had outside Italy (it’s true), but I also told him that Merf owed him a special thanks because while the Merlot was very good when tasted on its own, when paired with the gnocchi it was raised to a completely new level.  All the tannins and “hot” alcohol in the wine (those things that make it possible to age a wine long enough for the complexity of the wine to be revealed) stepped back and the black cherry, plum, and spicy vanilla took center stage.  It went from being “very good” to being “excellent.”

Next, Marcus Notaro showed off his 2006 Col Solare (94 W&S, 93 WA, 92 WS, 91 WE), a traditional “Left Bank” Bordeaux dominated by cabernet sauvignon with merlot, cabernet franc, petit verdot, and (in a break from the Bordeaux model) a little bit of Syrah.  Marcus is the winemaker in this collaboration between Chateau Ste. Michelle (a well-known Washington State wine brand) and the famed Antinori family from Italy.  Again, this wine was VERY good on its own.  But when Brian’s herb and garlic rubbed pork roast with mustard jus, shitake risotto, and oven dried tomatoes joined the Col Solare at our table, the wine came ALIVE!

Finally, Domaine Ste. Michelle’s Blanc de Noirs NV (a sparkling wine) arrived with a valrhona chocolate terrine with French brandied cherries.  I don’t even have the words to describe this one.  It was a perfect finish to a great meal with spectacular pairings of incredible food and wines.

As always, Courtney and Brian were “on their game.”  I would highly encourage you to make it to The Grape next time you’re in Dallas.  In fact, if you’d like us to join you I’m sure you wouldn’t have to twist our arms!  And if you do go without us, be sure you tell Courtney that Tim and Lisa sent you.  There’s nothing in it for us but the pleasure of connecting favorite people with favorite food and wines.  And that’s one of our favorite things!

And be sure and remember . . . wine is always good.  But when paired with the right food, it reaches its full potential and becomes . . . spectacular!  Call us.  We’ll be glad to show you!

You don’t have to go to France or Italy to find decent wine.  You don’t even have to go to California or Oregon.  There are about 3,000 commercial vineyards in the United States and there’s at least one winery in every state (even Hawaii).  Many of the wineries obtain their berries (grapes) from across state lines, but the vinification takes place in state.

Texas produced about 675,000 gallons of wine in 2009, dwarfed by California (675 million gallons), New York (about 26 million gallons), and Washington (about 24 million gallons).  Even states like Florida (1.8 million gallons) and Missouri (just over a million gallons) out produced Texas.  But I’ve tasted wine from a lot of states and I can tell you that, while the “Big Three” wine producing states aren’t in any danger of losing their top billing from any of the other states, Texas wine fares better than any of the bottom 47 with the possible exception of New York state.

Not only are Texas wines eminently quaffable, the Texas wine country is accessible for a long weekend from all the major cities in the state without having to go through security at DFW or IAH!  In addition, the wineries in Texas realize that wineries are for more than just “tasting” so they have added quaint restaurants, B&B’s, etc.  Couple that with the knowledge that Texas wine is produced in some of the most aesthetically pleasing geography in these United States, and you discover the “experience” that is Texas wine.

I may have mentioned in a previous blog post that the seductive contours of the Texas Hill Country and the lonesome blue of the state flower and the stately skies conspired against me one weekend several years ago with the result that we came home with five cases (sixty plus bottles) of Texas wines in the trunk, back seat, and floorboard of Lisa’s Acura.  While it’s true that our palates have developed beyond the capacity of most Texas wines to challenge us, we still enjoy driving through the Texas Hill Country and the Pines of East Texas a couple of weekends every year sampling the latest “crush.”  Sometimes the grapes are grown locally, sometimes they’re imported from the Llano Estacado in West Texas, and sometimes they come from California (or even Australia in the case of one Lake Travis area winery).  But always . . . ALWAYS . . . there is something uniquely “Texas” about the experience.

One of our favorites (I’m mention several in later blog posts) is nestled in the pine covered rolling hills just south of Tyler and east of Bullard.  It’s called Kiepersol Estate and we were introduced to it by some very old, very good friends . . . Debbie and Gary.  Truth is, they didn’t introduce us to the wine, but to the Bed and Breakfast.  Even more specifically, it was the breakfast!  The first time we went there, the B&B was full . . . and they normally don’t serve breakfast at the restaurant to non-B&B guests.  But Debbie talked them into serving us.  And what a breakfast it was!  Eggs Benedict, but instead of Canadian Bacon it was a big old chunk of estate-bred sirloin.  Amazing!

As we got to know Kiepersol better and better, we began to appreciate the wines more than the B&B.  Kiepersol Estates was founded by South African Pierre de Wet in 1984 and is one of the few Texas wineries to use estate grown grapes for the bulk of its wine.  Oddly enough, there is a micro-climate in a small area there in East Texas that contributes to the healthy and flavorful growth of three red and two white varietals.  Pierre’s daughter, Marnelle, became the family winemaker after an internship at Trefethen Vineyards in California.  She does a remarkable job of creating an Old World style wine right there in rural Texas.

It’s well worth the drive over there if you live in Dallas or Houston, and it’s only one of the many wineries in Texas that are interesting enough to warrant a visit.  I could go on and on about other Texas wineries like Becker (a favorite of George W. in the White House) and Flat Creek (a beautiful Tuscan-like setting) . . . but I think I’ll save those for another post.

Drink up, friends.  As a good friend just informed me (he’s on a visit to the Texas Hill country and sent me a picture of this sign by SMS), “Wine drinkers make GRAPE lovers.”

A few years ago I was in the home of a friend who was a member of my church (remember, I’m Southern Baptist) and noticed a box of Black Label Cabernet Sauvignon on their kitchen cabinet.  Knowing that I was a “progressive” Southern Baptist (at least when it comes to alcohol consumption), they insisted that someone had given them the “box” of wine and offered it to me.  Never one to turn down free wine, I stuck it in my car.  The next time Lisa and I hosted one of our “wine tasting” parties, I transferred the Cab from the box to a decanter and passed it off as an excellent Napa Valley vintage.   You’d be surprised (or maybe not) to find that most of the folks who tasted it at the party rated it very highly among the wines served!

Now, I confess that I’ve been guilty of “wine snobbery” when it comes to boxed wines, so don’t feel like a loner.  I’ve come to realize that traditional bottles and corks are more about the experience than an indicator of wine quality.  I’ll do an entire post at some point to compare the various methods of packaging wine, but suffice it to say that I’ve learned that bagging wine can be very effective.  In fact, since the bladder inside the box shrinks as the wine is released through the spigot of a box, the primary threat to wine is eliminated.  Because the vacuum within the bladder is retained, no oxygen touches the wine, so the wine in a box can remain fresh in your refrigerator much longer than an opened (and recorked) bottle.

The clearest and most powerful lesson in this little educational chapter came in the “Motherland” of wine . . . France.  Throughout most of the wine regions, I kept seeing signs posted at the end of driveways and in front of small vineyards which read, “Vrac.”  When I finally asked a local resident what that meant, he said, “You know . . . BiB!  Bag in Box!”  I nodded my head like I knew what the heck he was talking about.

It wasn’t until we were in Provence and staying at the beautiful home (converted, loosely speaking, into a B&B) of Michael Frost.  Michael is a retired barrister from England who moved to a small estate just north of Arles and started welcoming guests.  He’s an amazing guy and he’s usually in the kitchen cooking up something incredible while listening to Haydn or Brahms.  One afternoon he taught Lisa and me how to make true homemade croissants.  It was, of course, a memorable experience.

While we were cooking, Michael would keep refilling our glasses with a very nice blush wine which was refreshing, flavorful, and reasonable complex (layered, at least).  On the first day we were in his home, I noticed that he was refilling the glasses via a spigot on a box in his refrigerator!  Then, to add insult to injury, I found out that the delicious red wine he served each evening at his dinner table from a beautiful decanter came from (you guessed it) a box in his refrigerator!

Michael explained to me that throughout France all but the most mercenary of vintners make their wine available to locals in bulk (for which the French word is, of course, “Vrac.”)  So when Michael runs low on wine, he simply walks down the road to his neighbor’s vineyard and winery (which bottles some very good wine sold throughout Europe) and trades in his empty wine bladder (“Bag in Box) for a full one.  Then he serves it in crystal decanters to his guests.

Now . . . I can tell you without reservation that the wine that came from the boxes from Michael’s refrigerator was some of the best I’ve ever had.  The blush wine was enjoyed while learning how to fold the rolled out dough into more than a hundred layers of flaky buttery goodness while wearing an apron in Michael’s kitchen!  And the red wine straight from the box (via a lovely decanter) tasted incredible as we enjoyed dinner on Michael’s patio on a hill overlooking the Rhone near Arles with Michael and his other guests . . . an older Irish couple and their sister (he was a former UK police captain and had lots of stories) who were delightfully cultured, well read, and traveled.  On the menu (which we helped prepare) were “PiPis” (the tiny lavender shellfish found on beaches around the world and a specialty in Provence . . . you can even buy them on the street in Arles); roast lamb with local vegetables; a fruit tart; and quince paste to complement the cheeses!

All of this is to say that sometimes it’s not the bottle at all.  Sometimes it’s the company.  Or the food.  Heck, sometimes it might even be the wine itself.

Here’s to you, Michael Frost.  Thanks for the education.

Some bottles sit down at my table and offer up a serendipitous story of stumbled upon food and fun.  For example, last night Lisa and I stopped by one of our favorite little spots on Dallas’ lower Greenville Avenue, The Grape.  I picked a Helen Turley (a California winemaker whose name on a bottle nearly always guarantees success) Zinfandel from the Reserve List.  When the waiter first opened the bottle and poured an initial sample, I found the wine to be quite constrained on the nose and palate and was afraid it would be a little too austere.  However, after I had him decant the bottle and we gave it a little while to open up, and especially after we paired it with a braised lamb shank, it approached spectacular.  You know how it is when you first meet a stranger . . . the conversation can be a bit muted and awkward.  But by the time you’re sharing food together, you both really open up and the conversation becomes much more complex and fulfilling.

Other bottles have a story that is inextricably linked with a well known place like the bottles I’ve found in France and Italy . . . and whose stories are yet to come.  I love the way that Old World wines are named not by their varietals, but by their regions . . . Burgundy, Bordeaux, Cote du Rhone . . . and even by their villages . . . Montrachet, Sancerre, Gigondas, Brunello di Montalcino, Vino Nobile de Montepulciano.

Still other bottles are (at least to me) like books on a shelf that are waiting to be read . . . when I get the time (or money).  There are several bottles like that floating around some of the local wine shops that I’m hoping to open soon . . . a Gevrey Chambertin from Burgundy . . . a Condrieu from the upper Rhone . . . a Gaja or Sassicaia.

But perhaps my favorite category of “bottle stories” are those which revolve around people with whom I’ve shared wine.  Since I never drink alcohol when I’m apart from Lisa (except by special dispensation on rare occasions), she’s always in those stories . . . which makes them better, of course.  But there are also a large (and growing) number of people whose faces I see and whose laughter I hear whenever I look at particular bottles in my collection.

On the northern edge of the swampy north San Francisco Bay area, sort of at the junction between the southern ends of the Napa and Sonoma Valleys is the Carneros appellation in which sits a chateau that looks like it could be just as much at home in the Loire Valley in France.  It is Domaine Carneros, and is part of the Taittinger family (a worldwide producer of Champagne and other sparkling wines.

Of course you know that (at least in France) the name “Champagne” is very closely restricted to sparkling wine produced in a specific region northeast of Paris (there are many posts yet to come relating our experiences in Epernay and Reims in that beautiful region) from specific varietals in a very traditional method.  All other sparkling wine produced elsewhere is just . . . well . . . sparkling wine.  Since the United States failed to sign the international agreement in 1930 which limited the use of the word, “Champagne,” some U.S. wineries that produce sparkling wine call it “Champagne.”  Domaine Carneros, however, chooses to focus on the name of the house and the region in the product name, simply indicating that it was produced in the traditional “methode champinoise.”

Domaine Carneros produces three sparkling wines (all of which have been in my collection, but alas . . . I’m down to a single bottle of Le Reve).  Their Brut Cuvee is a beautiful blend of Chardonnay and Pinot Noir (white of course, with no contact with the skins) which is delightfully dry (the meaning of the Brut designation).  The Brut Rose Cuvee de la Pompadour is a lovely pink (the pinot is left on the skins just briefly) and is a little more fruity and floral than the other two.  Le Reve Blanc de Blancs (100% Chardonnay) is my favorite.  Rich and buttery with fine streams of bubbles which do, indeed, tickle the nose as you sip.

The grapes traditionally used in Champagne are Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, and Pinot Meunier.  The Carneros region produces Chardonnay and (due to the cooling breezes blowing up from the Bay) Pinot Noir.  In fact, the domaine often produces more Pinot Noir grapes than needed for their sparkling wines and so bottles a very good Pinot Noir still wine.

The whole process of making Champagne is amazing and far too involved and complex for me to relate here . . . you’ll get bits and pieces of it as I talk about our wonderful time in the Champagne region . . . but legend has it that Dom Perignon (the monk who supposedly invented the method) ran to tell his brothers of his discovery calling, “Brothers . . . come quickly . . . I am drinking stars!”

But that’s not the story.  The story is in the sharing.  I have spent a few beautiful hours on that wonderful terrace of the chateau at Domaine Carneros tasting their sparkling liquid sunshine.  Lisa and I discovered it together alone, at first.  Then we had the joy of sharing it with some of our great friends, Todd and Dena and Greg and Tammy.

And then, a couple of years ago we spent a weekend in Napa with our beautiful (one of our three) daughter, Hope, and her friend (and ours), Sara.  It was an incredible weekend complete with hot air balloons, champagne brunches, and grape stomping at harvest parties.

Sara had to leave a couple of days before the rest of us, so she missed Domaine Carneros, but Hope was able to be there with us.  It was unforgettable for a number of reasons, not the least of which was the book Hope chose to read on the terrace (that girl is ALWAYS reading something . . . wonder where she gets that?).  Charles Dickens’ “Hard Times.”  Note the picture below.

And hence the title for this bottle-told story. You’ll find I love literary references and movie quotes.  In fact, the title of the previous post (walking the parapet) was a quote from the movie Blazing Saddles.  Extra points if you caught that.  Wine culture doesn’t HAVE to be stuffy.

So . . . this New Year’s eve, whether I’m enjoying my bottle of Le Reve, or the 2000 Dom Perignon that was a gift from my great wine buddy Terry, or one of the bottles of “real” Champagne I brought back from Epernay, France, what’s in the glass will only be part of the story.  The REAL story will be the people I’ll be sharing it with.  Don’t know who that will be yet (Lisa will be there, of course), but I know that the combination of good sparkling wine, great friends, and the advent of another year (my fifty-first) will yield yet another incredible memory.

Bottoms up!

I suppose it’s no surprise that the bottle that comes to mind first when I’m “musing” is my 1997 Brunello di Montalcino. Brunello is certainly the king of Tuscan wines and is among the most well-known and best wines of all of Italy. It derives from the Sangiovese varietal native to Tuscany. Sangiovese (Latin for “blood of Jove”) is the basic varietal not only for Brunello, but for a number of central Italian wines including Chianti, Vino Nobile di Montepulciano, and (more recently) is blended with a number of varietals like Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Syrah, and/or Merlot to form so-called “Super Tuscans.”

Although Sangiovese can be found in Napa, Texas, and several other places around the world, the Tuscan climate is ideal for this thin-skinned grape. The relatively dry, warm weather helps the berries mature to produce a fruity young wine that has enough structure to age well in oak and bottle to yield a firm and full-bodied wine which pairs well with rustic Italian fare.

But enough technical stuff . . . let me tell you how I first met Signore Brunello.

As I mentioned in the introduction to this blog, Lisa and I first experienced wine on our twentieth anniversary trip to Italy. Prior to that, the only wines I knew (vaguely) had names like “Thunderbird” and “Mad Dog 20/20.” Oh yeah . . . there was that “Boone’s Farm” stuff, too. I’d never really seen a wine glass and DEFINITELY had no idea about wine tastings.

When we arrived in Florence, we found that in every restaurant we were given a carafe of “vino della casa” and a couple of tumblers with no stems. Nothing fancy. Once in a tiny restaurant in Montepulciano, we were allowed only one glass from which we were both to drink . . . but that’s another story.

We also learned that dinner in Italy is an “experience.” The first time we showed up at a restaurant before 7:30 and were turned away, we realized we were in uncharted waters. Eventually we learned that dinner begins about 8:00 and lasts until midnight or later. At first we thought the restaurant service was just slow . . . but we soon learned that the service was excellent, as long as you adapted to the rhythm of Italy. And part of that “rhythm” was enjoying the carafe (actually just a pitcher) of wine.

On the second half of that trip we were in a cooking school in Castello di Tocchi, just south of Siena. Each day we’d cook in the castle’s kitchen with Giancarlo, our chef/teacher and Leonardo, our interpreter/comedian. Then after lunch, Leonardo would take us on a cultural excursion. Every day we’d visit a different village or cultural site.

One day we drove through the Tuscan countryside to a hill town called Montalcino. At the top of the village sits a medieval “fortezza” or fortress. After we strolled the parapet for a while, Leonardo led us into a huge stone lined room . . . almost like a chapel. On a number of tables around the room sat what looked like a THOUSAND gleaming glasses.

Now those of you who have shared wine at my home know how I feel about glasses. I wash and polish every single glass by hand for Lisa and I and our guests. Sometimes (at least when we lived in the BIG house) that meant polishing fifty or more glasses. Even for smaller dinner parties when I’m serving multiple wines, each wine deserves and receives its own glass, so preparing the glassware is quite a ritual. I just believe that wine is experienced better in a clean (sparkling) glass appropriate to the wine itself (I have glasses for reds, whites, Burgundies/Pinot Noirs, Bordeaux/Cabs, Sauternes and dessert wines, etc.). And of course part of the appreciation is visual . . . when you hold that wine up to the light of a candle or chandelier and see the ruby glint in the reds and the diamond sparkle in the whites. Nothing irks me more than to be distracted by water spots or streaks on the glass. And that obsession probably began that day in the fortezza atop Montalcino.

Anyway, over the next couple of hours, Leonardo and the docents of Montalcino led us on an adventure of sight, smell, and taste that I’ll never forget as we sampled Brunellos from a number of producers from the village. Because of the angle of the sun or the way the sea breeze (the ocean is a long way away, but there is virtually no obstruction between Montalcino and the shore) hits the various slopes (North, South, East, or West) of the hill on which the village sits, the wine can display subtle but detectable differences in taste and aroma. It was quite an education.

A few years ago, a scandal threatened Brunello’s reign as the supreme wine of Tuscany. Because of its DOCG (Controlled Origin) status, there is a stringent requirement that Brunello be made of 100% Sangiovese grapes grown in the region. An accusation was made (it was later revealed to have been made by a group of non-Brunello Tuscan wine producers) that a majority of Brunello producers were mixing other varietals (Merlot, Cabernet, etc.) into their wines to increase the yield. The claim was that the number of bottles produced in several vintages in the early 2000’s exceeded what should have been possible given the number of acres under cultivation. After many cases of wine (600,000 from Castello Banfi alone) were impounded, investigators performed genetic testing which eventually vindicated the Brunello producers showing that the years in question had simply been unusually productive for the region.

I’ve tasted many wines since that afternoon in the village of Montalcino. And yes, many of them far surpass the Brunello in a pure head to head tasting. And I’ve visited many wine producing regions and tasted at a lot of vineyards and wineries. But that particular day I will never forget. And I’ll always have a Brunello or two tucked away in my collection.

If you’re looking for Italian wines (Brunello or any of the other great Italian offerings of which there are stories yet to come), I can recommend a couple of places. Costco (my “go to” wine supplier) is usually very light on Italians. They trend more toward California wines, a few good French selections, and a ton of value priced wines from Chile, Argentina, and Australia. Central Market (in Dallas and Houston) are a shade better than Costco in terms of Italian selection. In San Diego (where we lived when we made that first trip to Italy) we found a little Italian market called “Mona Lisa” in the Little Italy section near downtown which stocked a few bottles of Italian descent. If you’re in or near Dallas, I can highly recommend Jimmy’s Food Store on Bryan Street. It’s a cluttered paradise of all things Italian including homemade pasta, cheeses, and an INCREDIBLE selection of Italian wines. Best of all, it’s less than ten minutes from our place!

So here’s to Leonardo and Giancarlo and to the beautiful little hill town of Montalcino. If you ever want to share a bottle of Brunello, come on over.

It was in my fortieth year that I discovered (seemingly from nowhere) my passion for wine. Perhaps it would be more correct to say that I discovered my passion for the culture of wine. Lisa and I had carried on both of our families’ traditions of zero alcohol for our twenty years of marriage (a tradition for which I am still thankful, even though our personal choices have changed).

We celebrated our twentieth anniversary with an extended trip to Italy, the first half of which was spent exploring Florence . . . consuming the art and architecture, dining under the incredible Tuscan skies, wandering the cobblestone streets, picnicking in the famed Boboli Gardens (where picnicking is supposedly disallowed) . . . and the second half of which was spent in a cooking school housed in a thousand year old Tuscan “castello” from which we discovered the hill towns and picturesque villages more incredible than we had ever imagined.

We learned many things on that trip about Italian art, Renaissance history, and Tuscan cooking. We also learned that in Italy, wine was not a commodity or a “recreational beverage,” but a way of life. I was entranced by the entire experience . . . the idea that, despite significant technological advances, the same basic processes have been part of winemaking for thousands of years.

My preconceptions were challenged while wandering through the vineyards of Italy, visiting with the local producers, and finding them to be anything BUT the pretentious, egotistical snobs I had always imagined wine people to be. These folks were hard working farmers whose generations-old connection to the land was palpable.

Not only did I have to correct my thinking about the producers, but the drinkers of wine as well. Despite the fact that wine was consumed with every meal and also as a social activity, I don’t believe on that trip (or in any of our subsequent trips to Europe) I encountered a single person whom I would describe as “drunk.” Any intoxication at all was only evident in the congenial conversation and warm hospitality of the Italians (which I would later discover to be true of the French, as well).

After being introduced to the complex sensory (vision, smell, taste) and social (long, slow dinners with incredible conversation and camaraderie) experience that was wine on that trip, it was clear that both Lisa and I would be adding wine (in moderation) to our dining experiences back in the United States.

Since two of our kids were still at home at the time, we continued to maintain our alcohol-free home, deciding that we’d rather wait until they were old enough to decide on their own approach to wine before confusing them by making an “about face” in our home. So for the next few years, all of our enjoyment of wine was reserved for travel and time away from home.

Because we were living in California at the time, our initial foray into domestic wines was, naturally, in Napa Valley. After moving back to Texas, we felt obligated to at least “check out” the Texas wine culture, so just before our last daughter graduated from high school, we visited the Hill Country for the “Wine and Wildflower” tour. As we stopped at winery after winery, we’d discover a wine that we liked and we buy a couple of bottles. At the end of the weekend, after visiting several Texas wineries, I discovered that we had packed the car with five cases of wine!

And so began our “collecting.” Over the next few years, we’d visit Italy again, covering several wine regions in that most enchanting of wine countries. We’d also visit Croatia, Greece, Turkey, and (of course) France. In all of these countries we’d find wines to be appreciated, bringing home what we could carry or ship. In fact, returning from France, a couple of years ago, we had thirty bottles in our luggage! But that’s a story for another time . . .

Much of our wine we have shared with friends and family, which is a major part of our enjoyment. Through the years, our collection has evolved. For example, Texas wines only make up a small percentage when once the entire collection was from Texas!

Our total bottle count hovers around 150 depending on how much we’ve been entertaining or what new bottle has caught my eye somewhere. Many of our bottles we’ve had for some time. We don’t drink them as frequently as you might imagine. And none of them are terribly expensive. In fact, my favorite “go to” wine (of which I always have a couple of bottles on hand) is an $8 wine available at Costco.

Since we’ve spent the last six months or so in a sort of “limbo,” I’ve been separated from my collection. Last week, when we moved into our new place thirty stories above downtown Dallas, I enjoyed unpacking most of my bottles and racking them in our apartment. As I was unpacking each bottle, I was reminded that each and every one of them represents a story. And that’s the fun part.

I’m really not a wine snob. I don’t spend a lot of money on wine. In fact, I LOVE to find a wine that Lisa and I and our friends enjoy at a really low price. But what I really love is the stories.

And so, I decided to start writing them. Partly because I’m getting older and might forget them. Partly because I like telling them. Mainly because they’re just good stories. Some better (more eloquent) than others, it’s true. But all good. And some even have pictures!

I’ll be sharing them here from time to time. Probably at the rate of one every week or so. Nobody may ever read them but me. But that’s okay. The joy is in the telling. And if you’re ever at my table, you’ll probably hear them anyway.