February 2005

February 28

But the difference is both too profound and too trivial to mention here.

Why? There’s not enough room. It would require a small cultural history of two continents to describe why it might be there. So, let’s just accept that it’s there.

February 27

Starwine is a rather amazing wine competition intended to be held in Philadelphia each February. The second annual Starwine opens tomorrow here in Philly and it’s a strange beast. Sommeliers from all over the world (with a lack of emphasis upon any place but the Americas and Europe) but a good, eclectic group.

Oh, how eclectic. The difference between the American and European palate is much talked about in the general media. Here we don’t talk about it, though it’s the eight hundred pound gorilla waiting in the back of the room, ostensibly waiting for a dance.

Yes, as the small poster in the legendary KC bar Milton’s used to advertise, “There is a difference.”  The poster depicted two infants staring into their diapers.

February 26

Nunzio also brought a 1982 Marcarini Barolo, and it was as bruising an experience as Barolo 1982 is likely to offer. Most people found it to be too much; I thought the earth in it was great fun. The finish was like iron shavings dipped in tar; the flowers were pretty hard to find.

The last Marcarini I loved and found to be mature was a 1964. Marcarini is definitely old school and this is what the old school thinks is def.

February 25

Once again Nunzio is the go-to guy for great brings. This time he has a 1982 Prunotto Barbaresco Montestefano. I’m a fan of Prunotto, and I was an even bigger fan of those wines in the 1980’s and early 1990’s. The 1982 was perfectly cellared, showed some Brett, but very much in balance with the lovely red fruits of the wine and the tar and smoke notes throughout the long, earthy finish. There was a touch of softness that proved Nebbiolo’s ability to show a kind side, even if it takes years.

February 24

Those wines I find odd. I can’t make my mind up about them.

I’m very clear about the Contrade. Delicious, round, layered, fascinating. Not terribly expensive on A-16’s wine list, but I haven’t had any luck finding it on the web at present. With a wine this pretty, I’ll keep looking.

February 23

The Contrade is a wine I need to know more about. What little we could decipher off the bottle was that it had spent perhaps two years in oak (I’d guess both new and used) and was finished in amphora. Yeah, amphora, the clay stuff.

The amphora thing is a bally-hoed return to the ancient past. Gravner has certainly garnered some notoriety with his amphora-rested and seemingly oxygen-affected (I didn’t say oxidized, now did I?) white wines from Friuli.

February 22

Perhaps if the Contrade hadn’t been there, I would have liked the Harmonium more. I doubt it, but perhaps. The Harmonium was very pretty but not very interesting; I’m still convinced that somebody snuck some Syrah into it. It sure tasted of Syrah to me.

February 21

But the most delightful wine of the evening was a Sicilian wine called Contrade Labirinto, composed of Nero d’Avola. We placed it beside a much heralded Sicilian Nero d’Avola called Harmonium. That wine was very impressive and New Worldly; that’s to say it smelled and tasted like brand new French oak barrels, expensive ones. The fruit tasted almost roasted.

February 20

The 1999 magnum of Vieux Donjon Chateauneuf-du-Pape might have been too big for the antipasti, but there were some super rich meats there, including lamb carpaccio and tripe, and the Donjon was only overwhelming in its alcohol and not over the top with tannins or extract.

February 19

I popped open a Chablis Premier Cru Montmains 1994 from Jean Collet and it was very austere. The Chablis soils were banging away at my fillings and it would have been great with oysters, but we were eating salami.

February 18

Vestini makes some great value wines. We tasted Le Ortole Pellagrello Bianco, which is made from that grape, Pellagrello. Don’t worry, I hadn’t heard of it either. I still don’t know what to think of it, but it’s fun and reminds me of spiced pear skins and pear candy, though it’s not sweet.

February 17

I finally had a chance to pop open a bottle of Clover Hill 1999 Brut from Tasmania. It’s garnered strong reviews in Australia but it was the first chance I had to taste it. It was very soft and fairly creamy, not at all yeasty, but gathered up a lot of fruity Aussie character into a velvety, gentle, even delicate package. That’s pretty impressive for Aussie bubbly, a wine that usually shows the delicacy of a bull ride.

February 16

Shelly is a delightful sommelier, the kind that makes you feel as though every wine you choose is something she is personally proud of, and grateful that you chose to drink. We ordered the 2000 Valentini; the wine we tried to order a month earlier and had found corked.

This time it needed decanting; it was fairly taut. It cracked open later with the same lemon and orange zest, almond and mushroom hint that we had found in the 2001.

February 15

Shelly Lindgren writes the fantastic all-southern Italian wine list at A-16. Yes, it’s true, we were back at A-16 after dining there only a scant month ago. That usually ticks me off. In fact, I have to admit that I was a little miffed heading there. I was thinking, “This is ridiculous. There are a million great restaurants in San Francisco and I’m eating at the same two twice within a month.” With the Slanted Door (see Feb 18), I’ve sworn to avoid it for the future.

As re A-16, I’d like to go back. Next week would do.

February 14

I love the wine list. A few too few wines from Rudi Wiest, too few producers from Germany. But the Austrian options make up for it. The ability to drink Niklaihof in 750ml bottle or magnum is far more exciting to me than you can imagine, if you haven’t tasted any Niklaihof wines. They are the product of bio-dynamic viticulture and winemaking and the life work of a very lovely, very regal and, it seemed to me in my short lunch with her, very modest producer of very great wines.

February 13

The new restaurant has a fantastic wine list but it can’t make up for the food; which is really good food. The food is really good, it’s true. But it’s not great. It’s nothing very close to great. And the old Slanted Door had great food, really great food.

February 12

The Master Sommelier Exams are fraught with terror for those in it. Those who are past it worry about nothing more than the wines we’ll be drinking tonight and the restaurants where we’ll drinking.

Slanted Door – Ferry Plaza – no longer exciting. The old Mission Slanted Door kicked complete and total butt on Vietnamese food and wine. Period.

February 11

Did I mention Jose Pariente Verdejo from Rueda 2003? Citrus peel, orange and lemon with some lime zest, a middle full of grapefruit that turns to lemon zest and lime creme. It keeps morphing from leaf to fruit and that’s part of why I love Rueda.

Jose Parientos, made and sold by the charming two Victorias, is a revelatory Rueda. It has integrity, bright fruit, focus and, best of all, not a shred of Sauvignon Blanc in it. So many of the Ruedas in this market have a little Sauvignon Blanc, and it shouts down the pretty character of Verdejo.

February 10

The J.J. Prum ’71 has tons of firne, the German term for all that freakin’ soil, slate, wax, and earthy goo. The fruits have a brightness to them that seems impossible: very citrus, orange and lemon. It turned to apricot, then sweet apricot, then quince. The texture grew from fruit compote to marmalade. Lots of quince. Some crème brulee’.

It never seemed to change. Then it was gone. Or empty.

February 9

That’s the way of great northern European dessert wines; they’ll age as other wines do. But if you open a bottle of an aged German, Alsace or Austrian wine, they don’t fall apart as you watch them in the glass. These wines have acid, and acid is good.

February 8

A few Rieslings and Gewurz’s later (nothing to worry about it here) we arrive at J.J. Prum’s Graacher Himmelreich 1971 Beerenauslese. Oommmmmmmm.

From the moment it’s poured to the time I’m trying to lick out the inside of my glass, it’s happily drinkable. It doesn’t fade in the glass.

February 7

The 1973 Chappellet Cabernet had more flesh to it. At least the tannins were spryer; the finish was longer and more compelling. For Joel, it was a vindication of the 1973 vintage. For me, it was worth it to drink either one of them.

February 6

Joel brought a 1974 Chappellet Cabernet Sauvignon with nutty oak and cedar. The nose had some fairly unclean components to it – Brettanomyces, some sulfur notes but the raisiny character of California Cabernet Sauvignon came through. It was cassis but it was in a mean, hard, drying-out shell.

February 5

No such claims for the 1978 Ducru Beaucaillou – I haven’t been happy with a 1978 Bordeaux in years, though I haven’t tasted anything really great since my ’78 Mouton a decade or so ago. And it wasn’t that impressive.

This one was going vegetal but the balance that was there, before it started to fade, seemed sleek and elegant, well, almost. Maybe classy? Maybe.

February 3

The 1982 Leoville Las Cases was far more persuasive. Lovely cedar, great color, and plenty of youthful fruit, it showed clean and soft at first and gained muscle as it sat. The oak overtook the fruit after an hour or two, but this wine is excellent good.

February 2

Our bottle of 1992 Mouton Rothschild had a few floating band-aids and a chunk of leather. It also had strawberries and flowers, but finished dry and hard. It’s still young but it’s hard to have unquestioning faith in it. It will improve, I’m sure, but I’m not sure how much.

February 1

The 1990 Chateau de Beaucastel was frustratingly Brettanomyces ridden, though it had a syrupy richness and texture. I like that in aged red wine.  I don’t like the Brett. I don’t believe that I should believe my own senses but mature bottles of Beaucastel eventually seem to lose their Brett notes. That should be impossible, but apparently, it isn’t. Hopefully, that’s next for this wine.