November 2004

November 30

Preparing for the Jefferson Cup Invitational leaves little time for the more pleasant task of tasting. There are a number of wines in the competition that I’d like to taste, but instead, it’s my judges who will have that pleasure.

Even after the initial competition is over and we’re preparing for the Jefferson Cup taste-off, I haven’t a spare moment to taste anything. It ain’t fair.

My judges aren’t too harsh to the wines this year; there have been past Jefferson Cups with judges wielding hatchets and not scalpels.

November 29

This year, out of those five hundred wines, the judges chose just over two hundred fifty wines to receive the “Certificate of American Merit”, which respects wines exemplary of their regions and varieties. Next the judges chose just over one hundred wines (there was no pre-ordained number or percentage) that they believed were truly great examples. Those will receive certificates announcing them as “American Examples of Greatness”.

This year, sixty-five wines were selected as Jefferson Cup nominees; out of those, judges picked ten wines to be awarded the Jefferson Cups. By selecting both vinifera and non-vinifera wines for the Jefferson Cup each year, the hope is to respect the diversity of American viticulture and Thomas Jefferson's own acceptance of native varieties and hybrids. (full results)

November 28

And of course the judges have often rejected wines from those places. It’s my intention to keep selecting the best wines I can find from unusual regions and placing them before the judges for honest and blind assessment.

November 27

After all, these wines have been pre-selected so I think they have already risen to a standard far above most competitions.

The judges have the right to overrule my belief in all these wines. If they think the wines are deserving of no award at all, so be it. In the past five years, the number of wines rejected by the judges has varied from fifteen to thirty percent. Some might think that thirty percent is a pretty big number. But I’m happy with it; I’ve picked wines from places not always known for high-quality wines. While New York, Virginia, Michigan, Texas and Missouri might not surprise some tasters; we’ve included and awarded wines from Oklahoma, Nebraska, Iowa, Idaho, Wisconsin, and Kansas to name a few.

November 26

The Jefferson Cup Invitational does not award golds, silvers and the like. Rather, the invited wines have all proven their excellence in competitions and tastings throughout the last year. We hand out other awards titled “Certificate of American Merit”, and “American Examples of Greatness.” I’m not sure if that’s such a great idea, but we’ve been doing it for five years so why change now?

I simply hate that so many people think the only good wines are those that win gold medals. So I chose different nomenclature in the hope of alerting people to worthy wines, even those that may not place in the top ten percent of our tasting.

November 25

The other Texas wine is a odd grape I have raved about for a couple of years. The Black Spanish grape is an unknown grape; indeed we don’t even know where it comes from. It might be a wild hybrid, it might be a native American vine, it might even be a grape brought by the Spanish Franciscan monks to Texas in the 16th century. Whatever it is, it’s unique and, to this writer, something to be experienced more than once. Why more than once? The first time it might frighten you.

The smell and flavor are of oranges, roses, lilacs, perfume, musk, red currant jelly, raisins, figs, dates and stinky black plums – you have entered the strange and happy world of the Black Spanish grape. The flavor is tannic, but figgy and juicy; warm and grippy, overripe but snappy, and completely fascinating. I run a wine competition called The Jefferson Cup Invitational and it’s a different sort of wine competition. For one, it’s an invitational in which approximately five hundred wines are pre-selected from all the wine producing regions in America.

November 24

Two Texas wines – the first is from the strangely named Texas Davis Mountains AVA in western Texas. Blue Mountain Wines have been touted to me by my Texan friends before. This wine, the 2001 Cabernet Sauvignon, actually seems to justify their enthusiasm. Certainly, Texas Cabernet is always (well, probably always) going to carry the green, harsh tannins of climates too warm for the grape. In climates too warm, the sugars reach full maturity long before the tannins and phenolic character can reach maturation.

The Blue Mountain Cabernet is one of those. It smells dusty, a bit leafy, black currant with leaves and stems. But the flavor, especially after an hour or two of air, is lush, friendly, black berry and blue berry flavored. It’s the best Texas Cab I’ve tasted and very impressive.

November 23

I don’t want to overstate the situation in South Africa. But these wineries had full blown clinics capable of handling hundreds of patients over a week’s time frame. These wineries employ fewer than fifty and care for many, many more.

The requirements of this population still elude my intellectual grasp. I ask about the public transportation from the townships. The response from my South African friend is one of surprise; she can’t imagine that I would ask about buses and cabs, when houses, beds and food are what these people need first.

November 22

Dr. Cluver is in fact a doctor. That came in handy at this point. In fact one of the remarkable aspects of the wine industry in South Africa is that the large estates bear a resemblance to a plantation in some ways; many of them have small clinics for anyone in the area who is sick or injured.

That came in handy. My bandages got changed on a regular basis, each day, at a different winery for the next week. For free. That’s pretty cool. In America, I would have been set back a couple of thousand dollars and I’d be suing the Cluvers as we speak. They’d have to shut down the pool and stop hosting clumsy American visitors with silly ideas about dashing across the top of a fountain.

November 21

Elgin is a little bowl of a valley that contained orchards until only recently. While we’re nearly a stone’s throw from the ocean, and not at all far from Capetown, this area was very late in being settled by Europeans. The hills and mountains around us capture the cool winds from the ocean, and capture some sunlight as well; for a time it kept Europeans out.

I was delighted to be tasting wines at Paul Cluver. My visit was memorable and I regret that the Cluver family will probably remember it as well. I thought I would skip across the top of a granite pool in a clearing; it turns out that part of the pool was covered in moss. I floated around for a few seconds, trying to find the bottom of the pool, until I gave up and crawled out. It was mostly my pride that was injured, although I had some nice scarlet streams running down my hand.

I guess I should have let go of the glass sooner. Sorry, I couldn’t do that. It was filled with some of Dr. Cluver’s wonderful botrytised Chenin Blanc. My Irish friend Dermit Nolan says it’s a mark of my integrity that I wouldn’t let loose of the glass.

November 20

But certain areas seemed on the cusp of something new and great. Swartland’s vineyards along the coast, cool and even misty, had a few lovely Sauvignons. Walker Bay, Elgin, Mossel Bay and new regions such as Elim were a revelation to me. Indeed, two revelations were blowing my tiny little mind.

One is that Sauvignon Blanc is not done expressing itself; we thought New Zealand had created a new style of the grape and that was that. Styria in Austria is in the process of becoming a lovely blend of New Zealand’s pure fruit and the eastern Loire’s earthy richness.

But these new regions of South Africa offer something with the vibrancy of New Zealand, the focus of Styria, and even a touch of Loire Valley earth (although not too much). On top of that, these new regions show remarkable delicacy. And none of them shows more of this succulent delicacy than the oldest region of South Africa, Constantia. The Sauvignon Blancs from Klein Constantia, Groot Constantia and Buichtenverwachtig are stunning.

November 19

My several goals for my trip to South Africa didn’t go unfulfilled. The Pinotage is troublesome but promising, the Sauvignon Blanc is extremely exciting, the reds are far too often flawed by Brett or volatile acidity and the cool climate sites offer the hope of greatness.

However I was surprised by the sameness and inevitable boredom of some Sauvignon Blancs. Far too many were simply wanna-be New Zealand Sauvignon Blancs, with predictable green pepper and asparagus, but far too little crisp and round fruit. As one winemaker said to me, “If we are simply following someone else in their style, then we will never be leaders.” Stellenbosch, Paarl and Franschoek offered much of that homogeneity.

November 18

We’re all yelling over the neighborhood jam. We’re opening more wine. I confess my anger at the election, at conditions in bigoted and hateful America, in an America that pretends to be Christian but is far more interested in hurting people than showing Christian compassion. I tell Laura that I can’t believe we were so unable to change things in America during the last election. “Oh, you Americans,” says Laura, “you think you can go to Virgin Galactica and change things and change the universe.” She laughs harder. “You think you can change the world. But you can’t change anything, man, you can’t change anything.” We’re both laughing now.

November 17

They are very hopeful. Laura has followed a path she never expected. She is a Uhlambazi, a traditional healer. She edits a magazine for the township. They have their shabeen. “But it’s not like other shabeens,” she says, “We’re not trying to sell as much alcohol as possible. And we don’t serve alcohol to children.”

One of Tandile’s friends owns Jimmy’s. It’s a butchery and shabeen around the corner. Driving past we spot the place; it’s packed with every age and gender, music is spilling out with the smells and smoke.

Laura and Tandile’s shabeen has only our crew of seven whites, Laura’s cousin, a neighbor and three barely jamming musicians. Laura’s mom is laughing hysterically, the cousin is singing like he's the township Frank Sinatra meets Buju Banton.

November 16

He always loved birds. He couldn’t say her name, but he always loved birds. On the day of his funeral (that’s always on Saturday) there was a bird that was hit by a car. A huge flock of birds gathered around the dead bird.

There are birds that linger around the house for days.

The house is the house where Tandile was born. His father is dead, his mother has moved to the eastern Cape. She’s blind and doesn’t want to be a burden.

November 15

Laura and I are talking. How can I release hatred of things and people that are wrong? You have to release it, she says, release it to God. We don’t decide what will happen, God decides.

That doesn’t do me much good.

There is a greater power, she says. It’s hard to accept a child who is born with birth defects. And after living nine years with cerebral palsy, after never being able to say his mother’s name, her son died. Two years ago.

I have to release that, she says, and accept what I cannot change.

November 14

His wife Laura is completely remarkable. She says that white visitors are surprised by how happy the people of the townships are, “we are always smiling and they don’t understand why. They say, ‘How can you be so happy when have so little?’ It’s because we let go of our anger.”

She explains: “We have fought a war without guns, we fought our war with stones.” And you won. “Yes, we won. With nothing. So we don’t worry.”

This is from a woman who lost two brothers to the police during apartheid. Two killed. One spent fourteen years in prison. For nothing.

“I am not angry. If I am angry, then there is no room in my heart to feel joy.”

November 13

The notions of racism, voyeurism and liberal guilt are confounded by South Africa. For reasons that should be obvious, I’m on a township tour, hooked up Su Birch, a bigwig in the Wines of South Africa group, a woman of remarkable dedication and accomplishment. She is part of the amazing group of people trying to change life in South Africa.

If she says Tandile is cool, he must be cool. He’s a poor guy in the township of Guguletu building a business; it’s a straight-forward effort to create a tour guide service. But this is no ordinary tour; we’re driving through the some of the poorest places on earth.

November 12

So the first thing to report is that I haven’t had any lobster. In fact, I’ve had exactly three mussels and one shrimp. This is a meat eating country. The poor folks eat chicken, because it’s cheap and plentiful. The chicken is plump, big, and flavorful; I haven’t seen any pork, apparently, that’s cultural. Beef, they’re short on.

When we’re up-country, near Malmesbury, we have some really well hung (it’s a reasonable descriptor, okay?) Springbok and fantastic and exotic venison among which is some Edan. Think the texture and structure of beef with the flavor of venison; I mean, it’s a kind of deer, right?

November 11

I’m headed for South Africa so there aren’t going to be any dispatches for a week or two. It’s my first trip so there are many reasons to be visiting, it’s not only the great Sauvignon Blancs, the on-going travails of Pinotage and the intriguing Shiraz. There are so many faces to Chardonnay there right now, though few are compelling. Cabernet-based blends, when they aren’t spoiled with excessive Brett, can be amazing and long-lived. Some sparkling wines have real character. Great dessert wines are centuries old here.

So my agenda is full. And I want to eat lobster and every other sea creature I can find there.

November 10

Da Vinci Chianti Classico 2003 - While this is a softer, milder version of Chianti, this wine won’t change anyone’s mind about that venerated Italian wine region. Why not? Chianti tends towards tart cherry flavors, brambly fruit, and a dusky plum finish; for some people that’s still a touch too rough and tumble. Those folks should remember that Chianti wants food to soften its grit. With this bottling, toss in a bit of red licorice and stir in the aforementioned softness and mellowness, and you’ll get a friendly enough Chianti for most cuisines.

November 9

A few days at home and a few wines to taste before I head to South Africa.

Falesco Vitiano 2002 - Vitiano is a remarkable bottle, made not far from Rome, but grown in the neighboring state of Umbria. The winemaker, Ricardo Cottarello, is a legend and a great guy, and while some of his wines are bloody expensive, Vitiano consistently represents one of the best wine values in the world. It’s roughly one third each of Cabernet, Merlot and Sangiovese.

November 8

A dinner at a fantastic restaurant in Dallas called Tei Tei’s Robata. At last, a reason to be in Dallas. The food is perfectly poised Japanese cuisine; a few clunkers but a lot of wonderful flavors. Washu beef cooked on hot rocks, brilliant sashimi, sick baby hamachi, I mean sick good.

The sake list is far too pricey but there are some great sakes here. I did some of the standard masu: Suishin (Hiroshima’s finest) with a Riesling like freshness. The Wakatake Daiginjo has always been my steady friend for Japanese restaurants; I usually compare it to Sauvignon Blanc. My friend Pat Dodd says it’s more like Gruner Veltliner. He’s right. There’s a bit more mineral and mustard seed, or something like that.

The next sake we order, Masumi Ginjo, has great roundness and delicacy. And a sake I have never seen before, Ura Kasumi-Zen Ginjo, has diamond like clarity despite all its variant facets. This stuff is amazing and the food almost always matches it.

November 7

A few other bottles to note; Domaine de Nizas Coteaux de Languedoc 2000 is utterly fun to drink. It needs to be consumed, I suppose, but it has pretty balance and fruit, along with a dose of barrel spice.

Da Vinci St. Ippolito IGT Toscana 2001 has a genuine Sangiovese character, with cherries and nuts. There’s a great blue fruits intensity to it, with raspberries and red plums.

Nine Stones Shiraz Hilltops 2003 - Nine Stones has some really pretty fruit to it. The Hilltops bottling is just as fat and blue fruited as the McLaren Vale bottling, but has the same tidy structure. I could drink this wine again.

November 6

And after drinking through a range of the world’s Chardonnays, I have only one to report. Chalone Chardonnay 2002 has always been good, but there is no doubt that the wines have improved in the last ten years.

If that seems faint praise, try this. Very, very few Chardonnays from California have complexity. Those that do, gain all their complexity from barrel time. Not this guy. Not Chalone Chardonnay

Something genuine is happening in this bottle.

November 5

Some pretty white wines to recommend. Hugel’s 2003 Gentil (an Edelzwicker-like blend of white grapes) shows its Muscat floral notes and fruits as varied as banana, pear, melon, quince, apricots and lemons. Some people think blends of this sort are too simple; but being a blend can be an asset.

Hugel’s Riesling 2002 is nowhere near as complex, but focused and happy. This is pure fun drinking, with flowers, pears, apricots, quince, a sweet front and middle, and a delightful bittersweet finish.

November 4

Hogue Genesis Merlot 2001 – Once upon a time, I thought the Genesis merlots were great aging wines, at least until I actually aged them. Then I decided I didn’t like them very much; their hardness was just mean.

But this wine, while tannic and grippy, it has nice layers and pretty fruit. Maybe they’ve softened the style, maybe the vintage is rounder.

Another wine that has sometimes struck me as too tannic is Ponzi’s Reserve Pinot Noir. The 2001 has already softened up. Though I’m not very fond of the nose (that sage/rosemary aroma that seems to come from Pinot Noir grown on volcanic soils is in full effect), the rest of the wine is lovely: rich middle, full, juicy, and long.

November 3

Odds and ends: Geyser Peak Zinfandel Lopez Vineyard 2002 is as juicy as any bottle of Zin you will ever taste. Bear in mind that Lopez as well as other Cucamonga region old vine Zin vineyards is sometimes the source of a tiny percentage of the blend in a surprising number of North Coast big name wines. Just two or three percent of Cucamonga Zin and any wine gets, well, juicy.

Also, a caveat to add about this wine. Nobody ever accused the Zins from this area of being elegant. Picture a three hundred pound lineman in a tutu and ballet slippers.

On the other hand, it’s not heavily alcoholic. It’s a delight to drink with grilled meats.

November 2

As with the La Grand Dame Rose ’95, I wonder if these two bottles got a little heat damaged. Who knows; if so, it’s not obvious.

Krug Grand Cuvee is having none of those complaints. It’s exactly as it should be and that’s a happy thing. It’s an intensely nutty wine; I’ve heard people insist that it’s flawed because of that. Some people would ask who else is available if they won a date with Carmen Electra.

The toast shows up at the end, with a whiff of toasted coconut. But, because it’s Krug, there are many other flavors, such as mint, cherries, cooked apples, currants, blueberries. To call this complex is to call the Jackson Family a little eccentric.

Krug 1990 simply heaps more toasted nuts and chocolate on to the glorious mess. It adds texture and power. This is why I can become addicted to Champagne each holiday season.

November 1

Back to Veuve. The 1996 Veuve Clicquot Reserve is far more reserved. A couple of people think it’s corked. A new bottle appears, and it’s pronounced as fine. They both taste pretty much the same to me. Reserved and yeasty with tart quince notes. And the finish is pure toasted nuts. Cool.

The 1996 Rose is sweet and round with more evanescent Pinot Noir aromas than half of the Pinot Noirs I have to taste. The fresh fruit intensity is laced with flowers.

The 1995 La Grande Dame Rose is radically different. It shows its age from the color to the finish. Leaves but black fruits hidden among the red currants.

The Krug Rose is leafier still but shows toasted nuts and toasted chocolate, okay, and toast too. Red fruits and orange zest. Dried leaves and zest, nuts and chocolate with good length and cherry and red plums.