October 2004

October 31

Halloween – what should I drink? Spirits, of course! It’s time to revisit some Del Maguey mezcal because those drinks are certainly possessed. Tobala remains a remarkably complex and layered drink. Sure it has some rubber smells, it also has tons of smoke and bucketloads of earth.

I think that some perfectly good tasters might not like this and the other del Maguey mezcals; these drinks have more personalities than Robin Williams and all the finesse of Mike Tyson at a women’s rights conference.

But to vilify these spirits as undrinkable or as among the world’s worst spirits, as two of the best spirits writers have done recently, is bizarre. I have nothing but the greatest of respect for Gary Regan and Paul Pacult. But it seems to not simply be a matter of a difference in taste. Rather, there is something mean-spirited in their lambasting of these wonderful mezcals.

Perhaps they too are possessed. But I’m delighted to toast all opinions with a glass of Halloween tobala.

October 30

Perhaps I’ve bitched about Veuve Clicquot nv in the last couple of years, but I’m not about to miss a lunch featuring vintage Veuve, La Grande Dame and Krug.

The non-vintage (they like to call it multi-vintage too) is better than I remember it being – must be some better stuff in the market now. At least that’s the idea; I might have to buy a bottle off the shelf to see if I’m full of it.

The young apple juice character of Veuve of late is still evident, but there are a few other flavors as well. Still, there’s little comparison to the wines that come next. La Grande Dame 1995 has piles of toast, the finish is like pears slices and a bowl of apple crisp. It’s a little simple, a bit sweet but it is so much FUN.

October 29

A few vintages of Chateau Guiraud to report. Down at the River Club, we had the 2000 and 2001 Guiraud, for the second time in a month. Not surprisingly, nothing has changed. The 2000 is rich and sugary but not much more than that. Okay, so that should be enough.

The 2001 is cut from far more complicated cloth. It has all the 2000 has, and more layers, more structure, more persuasion. This is a great bottle of Sauternes. While it is not of the absolute glory of the 1983 Yquem, and I can imagine it becoming so. I’m probably over-playing this hand, but it was that good.

Mike and Nancy Thiessen brought along a 1961 Guiraud to represent a previous generation. It was older. I call it grandpa. Like grandpa, the wine wasn’t very active, but it had some nice stories to tell. You could taste the botrytis and you could taste the fruit. A few years ago it might have a livelier step but, hey, it’s forty-three years old. I don’t know what that is in dog years but it’s old.

October 28

Finally got to try the Caymus 2002 and it’s less opulent and better behaved than you probably expected. Hardly any American oak is showing, and the middle is far more red fruits than black fruits at the moment. There were some stone fruit hints as well. More juicy fruit (raspberry, black plum) at the finish with spicy, pencil-laden oak.

Truthfully, I’m surprised. The alcohol is reasonable; the wine’s warm, but not hot. A little dry earth – it’s all much more sculpted than I expected and even a bit stingy. I’d like to think it will gain weight; it certainly has complexity. I’m not accusing Caymus of being unbearably light, rather, it seems deft.

October 27

It’s the 1997 that comes in third for the crowd. Some of it might be because we all praised it lavishly. On the other hand, the crowd was right; it’s showing its age, of course, but it’s very nicely balanced and it defines fun. Its Brett note doesn’t seem out of balance; it just adds to the fun.

While I’m raving the value of the 1997, Tim Vacon points out that the wine was in no way a value upon release. I would have to agree; though I was lucky enough to buy some far cheaper than most people did. At the time is stupidly priced. Now you might be able to find it for less than forty bucks.

The 1995 was almost reasonable at release. Now you wouldn’t want to pay what most retailers would ask for it.

Here’s a pleasant surprise – Penfolds Bin 389 2001. Bin 389, like much of the Penfolds line, has been better and better with nearly each new release. 2001 is ripe, ripe vintage in the Barossa, but not necessarily well-balanced. That’s one of the virtues of a traditional Aussie blend like this. A little of this, a little bit of that, and you got your basic balance happening.

Maybe this is a bit warm, but it’s not as far gone as many recent California reds.

It’s juicy, like Aussies reds should be, blue fruits and black cherries and little wisps of cedar. The American oak adds brightness but remains in check. I’d like it better if it cost what Penfolds Bin 389 used to cost. But like the quality, that too has risen.

October 26

The 1985 has tons of spice, but the character of the tannins is far more supple than one would expect from a wine with this sort of barrel spice.

The current of currant that described the 1995 is revisited in the 1985. Times two. Make that three.

The tannins are far sweeter than the 1995, but echo the character of that vintage.

Spiced currant juice. Aging. Lovely but needs drinking in the next few years.

October 25

The 1986 is the better of all these wines. It starts odd; a little reductive, too much oak, a little too much heat and Brett. Something far more wonderful emerges from these shadows.

The oak use is as deft as any of the wines in the line-up. The wine’s spiciness evolves into a delightful nuttiness. Most critically, the wine’s finish shows spark; it never loses fullness and richness but it exhibits exhilarating grip.

October 24

Tim Vacon, a great Orlando wine merchant (Tim’s Wine Market) queries the current state of the 1989. Jean-Charles likes it better than the 1990. I have to agree, though I think the 1990 will live longer than the 1989. Jean-Charles is less convinced of that.

I’ve found the 1989 to be layered, vivacious, and probably not long-lived. Then again I don’t have a good track record on the fat vintages of Bordeaux; I under-estimated the character of 1982, 1989 and 1990.

The 1989 is giving everything it has right now; the 1990 is probably doing the same. It however has less to give, but it makes the most of what it has.

October 23

The Lynch Bages 1990 is poured from a magnum so it’s in very good condition. But it’s not the ultimate experience I’m expecting. Rather, it’s friendly like a talkative neighbor, but an unusually beautiful one. You enjoy the conversation.

The middle and finish are like spiced cherry skins and juice. Fascinatingly, as it sits in the glass, it takes on a wildflower honey note. The wine shows a great use of oak; it concentrates the wine. It’s smoky and long. And the wine never seems to be less important than the oak.

October 22

The Lynch Bages 1995 is far more evolved. The alcohol is peeking out already. The 1994 that we taste behind the 1995 shows even more alcohol – not that it’s higher in alcohol. It shows the alcohol because it’s dying. As a crowd, we like drinking this, but I wouldn’t bother with it again.

The 1995 has five more years on it. I particularly like the finish of the wine, though the opening and middle are far less interesting. At the end, it has this lovely current of red currants and strawberries. Currant juice with cinnamon sticks and cloves.

October 21

The 1999 is as well received by the crowd as the 2001; some like it better. Bing and Morello cherries, good complexity, not likely to live very long. While it lives, it will be very nice to drink.

One of the crowd’s most pleasant surprises is the 1997. Round as Santa’s belly and just as jolly.

The 1996 and 1995 are the next pair. They are both keepers but for different reasons. The 1996 is a bit short of acid and a little overripe in spots, but it manages to show some attractive grip. There’s quite a bit of oak on it but there’s enough fruit to it.

I think I missed it on the 1996’s. I thought they were going to drift out of balance fairly quickly. Then I figured they would tighten up and get stingy. I wasn’t sure they would be able to become generous again. I said that of the 1986 California reds, and turned out to be completely wrong. The 1986’s just got better.

But of 1996 Bordeaux, there are fewer bottles of evidence. I find the Lynch Bages to admissible. No, far better than that.

October 20

A Lynch Bages vertical at the EpCot Food and Wine Festival with Jean-Charles Cazes. Thank you, Disney. It’s a fat selection, and all the wines are in very good condition. The 2001 is as good as any 2001 I’ve had yet. And I am a fan of the 2001’s; they’re over-looked and under-rated.

I haven’t had any of the top wines of 2001, but I’ve had lots of others and they can be completely pleasing. Strength in elegance ought to be the watchword of the best of the vintage. Jean-Charles says, “Some people kept the same level of new oak in 2001 as in 2000.” Obviously, that’s not a good idea.

But I have to say that I’ve had far more over-oaked 2000’s than I have had of the 2001 vintage. Nothing of the sort to say about the Lynch Bages. I write the word “elegance” three times.

October 19

Saw Sonic Youth the other night. A few other bands: the Music (gawd, didn’t we kill off bands like this in the 90’s?), and the Dresden Dolls – a two piece: chanteuse and piano, and outrageous drummer who occasionally plays guitar. They covered Jacques Brel’s “Port of Amsterdam” and Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs” – dedicated to the current administration, of course. Very fun band.

PJ Harvey didn’t show up; something about a problem with the airline in Toronto – it’s likely to be a good story and Thurston could shed no light upon it to the crowd. That bites; she’s the stuff.

To make up for it, Sonic Youth played for two hours and fifteen minutes. The second encore was forty-five minutes of reverb and feedback, more or less. The crowd quickly dwindled from several thousand to a few hundred. You might not have liked it too much but I thought it was fantastic – Lee Renaldo was walking around the stage with his radio pickup, gathering up feedback. Jim O’Rourke (let’s hear it for the new guy!) was working his lead and distorting the sounds; he was dancing on his foot controls and that’s the most animated I’ve ever seen him. Thurston was doing some fine stuff with the reverb from his guitar while Steve Shelley (I think) was knocking his mallets around inside the bass drum. Unstructured but beautiful; the brain tries to create order out of chaos and it seems to create a link between audience and musician.

But then again, I’ve been known to just stop and listen to airplane sounds and truck engines. So, what do I know?

October 18

Benziger Tribute 2001 – I’m glad people make wines like this, but I am hard pressed to react in other than matter of fact politeness. For one, it’s expensive, though no more so than most such California wines. It’s very extracted, there is some genuine earthiness and the Cabernet Franc, though only 12%, is showing a lot at the moment.

I think I need to taste it again in a few years. Right now it lacks the outrageous fleshiness that California is supposed to be heir to. In blending for complexity, it seems over sculpted. My friend Jimmy Frantze agrees, but thinks the wine is very incomplete and un-knit at this point. Time fixes lots of things, but I find that the vast majority of high quality California wines age less happily than I expect them to do. It’s only the very best that age very well, and a group of very surprising agers; like the 1985 Vichon SLD Cabernet. Back then, I loved it. But I never expected it to age so gracefully.

October 17

Optima Caberet Sauvignon 2000 Alexander Valley is living proof that the wine writers don’t get the 2000 vintage. Just like in 1998, they (and me too, I’ll admit), tasted a few bad wines and assumed that all the wines were bad. Those wines that were released early were bad wines, it’s true. The early release wines usually are the simplest of the lot.

And the wines from 2000, just like in 1998, weren’t fat, overripe, full of baby fat, simple and easy to love. They were stingier that we used to; and most of them would stay that way. Some of them are much better than that, however.

Of course, I wouldn’t expect any of the 1998’s or the 2000’s to be among the best wines of the decade. But I don’t care. I simply want them to be good and offer reasonable value for money. The Optima 2000 definitely accomplishes that. The 2000 vintage appears here as complexity, not stinginess. The boring overripeness of the 2001’s and 2002’s is the polar opposite.

But, as my friend Bob Bath says, it’s probably the 1999’s that are the best we’ve seen in a while. So far, based on what I’ve tasted, he’s right.

October 16

Benziger Chardonnay 2002 is pleasant. I’m told that it’s far more crisp than most California Chardonnay. Uhhh..so?

The Pinot Noir 2000 has some real character and reminds me of the Sauvignon Estate in its directness and honesty. The 2000 Syrah reminds me of the pleasant blandness of too many California Syrahs, though that makes it better than most Rhone wines. It also makes this far less interesting than any well-made Rhone wine.

The Merlot 2001 is much the same. But the 1999 Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon is really happy stuff; lots of spice throughout, a bit hard but cherry and currant flavors in profusion. This is ample evidence of the quality of the 1999 vintage.

October 15

Lunch with Kathy Benziger and a run-through of their current releases - nice wines all around. There are always a lot of values in this portfolio. The 2002 Fume Blanc was a trifle disappointing; I’ve liked previous vintages better. But there was an estate Sauvignon Blanc 2003 Sonoma Mountain that was pretty exciting. It was ripe and citrusy in the manner of some of the best Loire Valley wines in the last several vintages, without that Loire Valley earthiness, of course.

This, frankly, is not great wine, but it is very, very compelling. It probably gains from its organic, bio-dynamique upbringing. It tastes complex. It tastes healthy and it’s all too rare that those two appear together.

I could easily place that in the top ten California Sauvignon Blancs I’ve tasted.

October 14

Jim Barry died yesterday. He helped invent Clare Valley and he made some of the prettiest wines Australia has produced in the last two decades. He wasn’t afraid of making wines with intensity but he rarely made those over-the-top Barossa bombs that have absurd extract and not a bit of balance.

Maybe there’s a clue in his predilection for Clare Riesling; he drank it daily, they say.

While everyone raves about the Armagh, I often had more fun drinking the less expensive bottles; the McCrae Wood was definitely a favorite of mine. I guess I just like thinking I’m spending less for more.

I wish I’d met him but his legend looms large and, as far as I’ve ever heard, he deserves every bit of the acclaim he’s received and more.

October 13

The Syrah commits the same sins and is just as successful; it tastes like Syrah, it’s rich, round, and straight-forward, but never simple. IS that a sin? Probably not.

The Cabernets are both good. The Jacob’s Ridge shows floral character (nice) and some under-ripeness (not as nice) but the flavors are never green. Instead, there is a leafy note but the tannins are reasonable and balanced.

The Petite Sirah 2003 is far more successful for me. It’s pretty as hell. And I am a Petite Sirah ideologue. If it’s not really good, I have no use for it. I have plenty of use for this one.

October 12

The Merlot has lots of flesh to it, but it’s straight-forward and simple. My compatriots are more enthusiastic. It’s nice to see intensity and friendliness coexist in a bottle.

Rick hates Merlot that tastes like Cabernet, Syrah that tries to be something it’s not. “Think inside the bottle,” he says, “Think of the wine. Don’t be a Cabernet guy or a Merlot guy.”

His partner Rich Mounts owns Mounts Vineyards and grows delightful grapes that are used by lots of people, but Rick says, “I get to milk the best cows on the ranch.” With the exception of the Zinfandel 2000’s smallish dose of Brett, the wines are very clean and show oodles of fruit.

October 11

Rick Hamilton of Amphora Cellars certainly embraces his New World status. He describes his wines as being built to please him first. “That’s where the market is heading,” he says, “and I didn’t know that that’s where the market was headed. I just like to make soft, fleshy, voluptuous fruit bombs.”

All the wines could be described in those terms. For his Zins, he uses American and French oak, but is working with Appalachian Radoux, Minnesota Radoux, preferring the toasting regime from Radoux’s American barrels. I’m a big fan of both oaks, especially the Appalachian wood. Here, it dresses up the wine without smothering it, but then Zin can be pretty hard to smother.

My friend Robert Noecker concurs with gentle use of oak, saying, “Even a beautiful woman can be made ugly by too much makeup.”

October 10

I forgot about a rather tasty wine I had at the dinner at Casa Mono; it bears mention here. Maria Casanovas Reserva Brut was cheap and pleasing; ripe pear with some lemon zest and tangerine notes. It was pricey, fifteen dollars a glass, but textured and creamy. My friend Katrin had just tasted the rose version (Monastrell is usually added) and was raving about that. It was on the list at $70 a bottle so we moved on to other things, such as the Enrique Mendoza Santa Rosa 1999 (they were out of the Mustiguillo Finca Terrerazo that I wanted to drink).

The Mendoza was ripe and rich and New World-ish. Listed at $65, it was reasonable but not spectacular. I prefer spectacular.

October 9

Pazo Pondal Albarino 2003 was so much greater a drink. Within the realm of Albarino, Pazo Pondal is no special thing, but after Porcupine Ridge, I wanted to order a case. I’m not meaning to bad-mouth Pazo Pondal; it’s just that there are a goodly number of lovely Albarinos from the Rias Baixas in the Spain.

Pazo Pondal is a little short, but it’s full. Even more intriguingly, it improves with a day of airing. Most Albarinos aren’t going to do that, and it’s not as though that’s the measure by which wines should be judged. But it’s lovely stuff.

Peach, apricot, green pear, some flowers and a fat middle without the use of oak. How refreshing.

October 8

I really like South African Sauvignon Blanc. I really do. Plenty of great South African Sauvignon Blanc and I’ll be leaving for South Africa in early November to taste them. But having said that, I am sooooo disappointed in Porcupine Ridge Sauvignon Blanc 2003 from Boekenhoutskloof. They can make some nice Sauvignon but this ain’t it. It smells like green pepper juice; I used to get wines like this from California but at least they had texture. New Zealand sold wines like this for a while but at least there was brighter than sunshine fruit.

October 7

After the show Karen and Neal (he's George) are out front; they talk to each of us as we leave. Karen asks me about seeing her before and I told her about seeing a performance in San Francisco many years before.

She was midway through a fairly angry piece (fairly? What am I saying?), and there was a sound from the back of the packed auditorium. I hadn't noticed it, but the noise stopped Karen in the middle of the monologue. She asked, “Does someone have a child in here?” There was no response but we all got very quiet.

She repeated her question and a timid voice from the back said yes. Karen apologized and asked the woman to take her child outside. She was firm but nice about it and asked the house manager to give her money back. As the woman left, as both explanation and apology to the rest of us, Karen said, “There are some things that are just for grown-ups.” In my recollection, she added, “and that's okay.” Contemporary accounts of that evening differ on that but I was surprised by it all and thought that she showed integrity to handle it that way.

We talked about it for a few minutes and I got a signature in my copy of her new book.

Standing there talking to fairly naked people, I started to feel embarrassed that I was wearing clothes.

October 6

So Karen Finlay is one of my gods and so her new show, George and Martha, is showing. And it's a Karen Finlay show so I can get a ticket when I call the day before. There are empty seats in the theatre. All that infamy and you still can't sell enough tickets.

It's George and Martha as in Stewart and Bush. The Bush is visible. They are naked throughout (it's a motel tryst after all) and I can't do justice to the outfits (such as they are), body paint and glitter. It's funnier than hell, although some might find it simply offensive, it's far more complex than it seems, and swallows issues of power and anger, betrayal and self-loathing and finds more in common between these two characters than you would expect.

October 5

Dinner at Joe Bastianich and Mario Batali's new Spanish joint in New York, Casa Mono. Some very good dishes (crispy sweetbreads, pulpos a la plancha) and a very effective wine list. Gramona Gessami by the glass, which is a Muscat with some Sauvignon Blanc blended in, and the floral character makes remarkable sense with the mild vinegar and oil under some of these dishes, as well as the herbal notes in others.

The next night I had a plate at a spot east of Chinatown called Les Enfants Terribles to try something called Korogofefemougou. That would be steak covered in African spices with a strong dollop of ground cola nut. It was really good.

October 4

Bodega Pirineos Moristel 2003 – a great grape that no one knows, the Moristel seems like so many other grapes and is like no other. Somontano has lots to offer in terms of a number of red grapes, retaining aromatics and structure while reinforcing the intensity of the wine. But Moristel belongs to Somontano.

Floral notes like Mouvedre (which is called Monastrell in this part of Spain ). Sinewy cherry skins, like Sangiovese at its best. Not as nutty as Sangiovese, more fleshy like Zinfandel shows itself to be at the finish.

And soft. And friendly. That's Moristel.

Pirineos 2003 adds a chunk of blue fruits to the package, a hint of black cherry skins. But it's all fruit. Until the end. Then it tastes like Creme de Cassis without the Cassis (they use the leaves and stems too you know). Add cherry juice. Very pretty.

October 3

Producers can hardly be expected to offer $7 bottles (that's the front line price) at low yields. So what's my complaint?

It is this: there are wines of personality available from less well-thought-of places in the world at these prices. Perhaps someone is underpaid in their making, but it's rarely the equivalent of a Chinese sweatshop producing brand name clothing for the American market.

For now, we don't have to buy boring wines at $7 if we don't want to. So, are Mondavi Private Selection wines to be avoided? Like most of their competitors' products, the answer is yes and no.

What might make these wines worth your money, as opposed to more fascinating foreign wines? I'd like to see the rise of branded California blends, creating more complexity by combining varietal wines. The American emphasis upon varietal wines exposes these simple wines to a cruel light. A blend could accomplish so much more and still be affordable. After all, the Aussies have done pretty well with this sort of thing.

Fascinating and secretive blends with great proprietary names could change the marketplace.

October 2

With the expected breakup of the Mondavi group still to be sorted out, it seems a good time to taste through the Private Selection wines. Private Selection, what a name! It sounds so positive, and means so little. Each of the wines is cut from the old Gallo mold: anger no one, excite no one.

None of them are under-ripe; none of them have much structure or aromatics. The Pinot Grigio is particularly boring. Still, isn't that good enough for Italian Pinot Grigio drinkers? I think not. At least those over-cropped Italian Pinot Grigios have some tartness and occasional earthiness.

The Pinot Noir is pleasant and soft but extremely short. The Shiraz the same. Is there something wrong with wines such as these? They are clean and correct, just boringly over-cropped. And it's not as though greed was the motivation, they are all extremely affordable.

October 1

But the real reason I went to see “The Black Rider” is that my college roommate has a key role. Jack Willis is his name and he hasn't changed a bit since our work together in a Colorado theater company. He has a large man's persona, voice and presence.

He's bald for this role and most often wears either white makeup or a white outfit. He is the narrator and sometimes something far more devilish than Marianne Faithful's Devil.

Jack was great. His voice and persona was so consistent with my experience acting with him, that I thought it was all a coincidence. He was far more convincing for the rest of the audience. They were obviously blown away.

Jack was the first to rave about his fellow actors. Matt McGrath was brilliant, channeling Keaton, Chaplin and a 21st century ingénue, all at once. His physical performance was even more brilliant. I cannot wait to see this actor again.

Nigel Richards was just as rewarding. Please don't let me ignore the other brilliant work here; other great actors had moments here. But it's not the same. Willis, Richards and McGrath were at a different place and all performing at a very high level.