pop & pour

By Raymond Lamontagne

We have reached the penultimate day of what was occasionally a rather hectic yet still always fun endeavor (for me, in any event … I did not have to write one of these suckers every single day). This is my last advent entry, at least for this year, and our loyal readers (I know there are at least three!) can probably predict the country from which this special wine hails. If it is me writing about Advent wines this year, there’s a solid 50% chance the wine is Austrian. If that were not enough, I have also ended with the same producer with which I started, Gruber Roschitz, neatly closing the circle. Its been a wild ride, if one defines wild as cracking wine books, doing many Google searches, and, you know, drinking. These are three things I do rather frequently anyways, and it was a pleasure to share it with the world. Thank you Peter and Dan. And thank you to everyone who reads our musings.

Who me, peek? It was clearly the cat.

The Grubers are three siblings:  Ewald, Maria, and Christian. Ewald provides the winemaking philosophy and oenological know-how, Maria is the marketing genius, and Christian handles the important work in the vineyards. Gruber Roschitz does not shy away from modern technology, although the winemaking remains anchored in low intervention principles such as moving the liquid as little as possible, using no fining, and no fertilizer in the vineyards except compost. I’ll also admit that I love the critters on the labels. The Grubers offer several theories as to the nature of these goblins or sprites. I prefer the “little children of Bacchus ensuring joy and pleasure” account. YMMV.

Botrytized or noble-rotted Chardonnays are not particularly numerous, although if you go looking you will find a few from around the world. Although some argue that Chardonnay is less susceptible to noble rot than Riesling or Semillon, other sources state that this varietal’s tight clusters make it one of the most susceptible grapes. Regardless, a non-Riesling trockenbeerenauslese is rather intriguing. TBAs are explicitly made from late harvest grapes, all of which are botrytized and painstakingly picked by hand. My powers of deduction lead me to conclude that these grapes hail from the Hinterholz vineyard. Here the soil lies over bedrock and an adjacent woodland helps to regulate temperature, producing a large contrast between day and night and yielding a smooth Chardonnay. Of course, the noble rot is going to be a game changer. Read the rest of this entry »

By Raymond Lamontagne

There had to be a Bordeaux in here somewhere! Due to all kinds of understandable economic, availability, and supplier-based reasons, and maybe just garden-variety sanity, you knew that a 375 mL bottle of Bordeaux in an Advent Calendar was not going to be something prestigious and expensive. Indeed, the best Bordeaux has been priced right out of everyday grasp (for most of us). I have two special bottles (a 2014 Margaux and a 2012 Mouton Rothschild) that together cost about half of what I paid for one of my Magnum Cellars over/under wine coolers, and rest assured they will not be consumed anytime soon. I occasionally have nightmares where one turns out to be corked, or where I take one out to gaze longingly at the label, fantasizing about the glorious bouquet within, only to have it slip out of my clumsy grasp and go full shard all over my hardwood floor. Bordeaux bottles are robust, but still. I’d lick first and get my tongue stitched up later. I also have one 1986 second growth bottle that I purchased on sale (a Ducru-Beaucaillou) and this should be enjoyed soon. Probably now, as I write this. Logically I know it is time to drink up, but emotionally I still succumb to that treacherous wine geek logic of “But should I wait just a weeee bit longer??” … Cheaper options might be less titillating, but they are far simpler to navigate from a drinking perspective. I am a Burgundy lover who nevertheless visits the world of Bordeaux often, and although the chateau model of classification is easier to learn than Burgundy’s tortuous terroir-based system, there are still a galaxy of options to master. In this case, fear not: the Bricks team did their research (of course!). Good value Bordeaux from the lowest ranked Bordeaux Rouge AOC and Bordeaux Superieur Rouge appellations can be found, and Chateau Recougne might just be one of the best of the Bordeaux Superieur wines.

Bordeaux Superieur covers the same huge geographic area as Bordeaux AOC, namely the entire region. However, Superieur must hail from vineyards that are more densely planted than garden variety Bordeaux. Crowded vines are more stressed and yield fewer but better quality grapes. Superieur grapes are also riper at harvest, resulting in higher alcohol levels. Many Superieur are “Right Bank” wines from the areas north and west of St. Emilon and Pomerol. If one wishes to strike a balance between quality and price point (quality as defined within the rubric of “everyday drinking pleasure”), this strikes me as a wonderful option. It turns out I am not alone: one analysis concludes that thirteen bottles of Bordeaux Rouge or Superieur are consumed every SECOND somewhere on the planet.

According to legend, Henry IV visited Chateau Recougne and was extremely impressed by the quality of the wine made there. He declared the land “Terra Recognita” or “recognized land”. Today winemakers Xavier and Agnes teach their children the wine-making art, producing reds, whites, and roses. Recougne falls within Fronsac, an area highly regarded in the 18th century and now sometimes panned for producing Merlot-dominant wines that taste hard and crudely earthy in contrast to the plush offerings of St. Emilon. Fronsac has made a comeback, however, and I’ve recently had a 2004 Chateau Villars that aged marvelously and was top-heavy with notes of “sous bois” (forest floor), plum, spice, and sundry caffeinated beverages, punching well above its weight class. Recougne itself seems to be in good hands, with the family managing several parcels of old vines of 50+ years, using environmentally friendly viticultural techniques including minimal spraying, and working to reduce yields through green harvesting and careful canopy management. Read the rest of this entry »

By Raymond Lamontagne

Day 16 and we are still in California. Today we leave behind the high ABVs from grapes grown in the hot interior but vinified in Napa, to get a look at what Jon Bonne calls the “new California wine”. Rutherford is considered to be among the finest Napa Valley AVAs. It lies on the valley floor, getting ample sunshine and warm temperatures, two factors that translate into optimally mature grapes that yield opulent, richly-flavored wines. However, a cooling fog also moves northward up the valley from the Bay area, modulating the sunshine that would otherwise napalm the grapes into a watery oblivion. The results are ageworthy wines that display a precise balance of fruit and acidity. Although Cabernet Sauvignon is the undisputed king across the region, more traditional California variety Zinfandel retains a few toeholds here and there. At Frog’s Leap, Zin is the favourite.

Interestingly enough, the same Riedel varietal tumbler glass is used for Sauvignon Blanc/Riesling on the one hand, and Zinfandel on the other. Maybe they mean white Zinfandel?

John Williams and Larry Turley started Frog’s Leap in 1981, ultimately creating a successful boutique winery that grows only organic grapes and practices dry-farming of vineyards (no irrigation, which many believe leads to sickly vines and bloated grapes that contain less acid, more sugar, and fewer of the  phenolic compounds that make wine worth inspecting, as opposed to crushing). They also incorporate at least certain aspects of biodynamics. Although these guys do not take themselves particularly seriously, stewardship of the land is another matter. Careful attention to yields, the aforementioned dry-farming, and respect for terroir work together to spawn Zins that show restraint, high-toned acids, earthy flavors, and (thankfully for the Advent-soaked liver) more reasonable ABVs. All of this emerges with minimal use of intervention. John Williams believes that nature makes wine, rather than man or woman. Finally, some of Cali’s fascinating grape-growing heritage is reflected in the fact that these old school Zins are often technically field blends: Other black grape varietals grow amongst the Zinfandel vines and are tossed into the pot to round out Zin’s corners and provide additional aromas, flavors, and mouthfeel. These can include various teinturiers (grapes with red flesh, historically used to provide more colour) as well as old warhorses that might be consigned to the dust bin of history were it not for a recent (positive!) trend toward preserving the past. The 2015 Frog’s Leap Napa Valley Zinfandel is 79% Zin, 19% Petit Syrah (or Durif), and 2% Carignan. Let’s delve in.

Cork Rating: 6.5/10. I like the Frog’s Leap swoosh, but otherwise this looks a bit like a cigarette butt.

This is a truly smoky, meaty wine upon first impression. One quick sniff yields powerful hickory smoke BBQ sauce and fresh ground beef. A few more sniffs reveal bramble jam, complete with canes and leaves, pumice stones in a sauna, dill seed and weed, allspice (maybe I should just say pickling spices across the board). I taste mealy Saskatoon berries, blackberries purchased in winter when they are rather tart, strawberries, raspberries, maybe a dab of peach conserve and a sprinkle of sweet dried chilli. None of these fruits are overly ripe or cooked, and everything is just a day or two past green. Peter and I exchanged Instagram messages while tasting this wine, and in addition to what turned into a rather wonderful conversation about the twists and turns of life, he helped provide this take on the primary fruit. Somewhat sweet but far from jammy, and every bit as balanced as Rutherford promises to deliver. Fresh acidity lifts everything up, and the tannins have some grip and just enough stem. This is what I absolutely love about an old fashioned Cali Zin: bright fruit but with ample old thorn-bush shrubbery, robust smoke and spice, tons of country character, nothing blowsy. Curry spices (star anise, cumin, coriander) show up late. Finish is persistent and features another perfect symmetry between fruit and aromatics. After last night’s alcoholic explosion, this is a breath of fresh air. Incidentally, some of my favorite wines are those that trigger bittersweet memories. This one takes me back to the raspberry patch in my old backyard in NW suburban Calgary. I do not live there anymore and I am happy in the downtown core. But the memories remain.

92 points

By Raymond Lamontagne

We’re back in DAC. The Old World classics continue to roll with an Austrian red, and I’m on deck for my third Austrian wine of the blogging campaign. The Calgary wine scene has seen a recent proliferation of Austrian sips, many natural or biodynamic, and the vast majority that I’ve sampled are charming, characterful, and delicious. A few have been stunningly superb. The entry level Krutzler Eisenberg Blaufrankisch is a textbook example that the winemaker describes as a “people’s wine”:  uncomplicated, approachable, congenial, and Krutzler’s best seller, yet still hearty enough to pair with richer meals. This is the Reserve, however.

I wonder if its Austria??

Blaufrankisch is often deemed “the Pinot Noir of the East” due to its proliferation across Eastern Europe and presumably also its taste characteristics. I can see the analogy, although to my palate, crossing partner St. Laurent often seems more quintessentially “Pinot”. Blaufrankisch can yield densely tannic wines (see Fox Run’s offering from the Finger Lakes, NY, which was sublimely floral but excoriated my tongue). This young impetuosity often gives way to a velvety mouthfeel and deep cherry and woodland berry flavors with age, while retaining a pronounced acidity. So yes … A Pinot relative at least in spirit.

One of Blaufrankisch’s parents is the fascinating Gouais Blanc. Gouais is a vinous Genghis Khan: decried as a barbarian, but sowing its seed far and wide. This white grape was deemed coarse and far too rustic, banished to the hinterlands early in the Middle Ages. This ill will almost rendered it extinct. Gouais did however have ample opportunity to cross with Pinot numerous times, perhaps imbuing the latter with some degree of hybrid vigour, and those crosses live on as some of the top wine grapes in the world today (Gamay and Chardonnay!). Fortunately extinction was forestalled and Gouais persists as a prime source of genetic diversity, if not a stellar offering in the glass. The other parent of Blaufrankisch is the ultra-rare Blaue Zimmettraube, recently re-discovered in the German Rheinhessen region. Most evidence suggests that Blaufrankisch itself originated in Lower Styria (in present day Slovenia), spreading to Germany (where it is called Lemberger, the name also used in NY and other US states), the Czech Republic (where it is called Frankovka), Slovakia, Croatia, Serbia, and even Italy. Finally, Blaufrankisch is a rising star in Hungary, where it goes by the pert handle “Kekfrankos”. Some claim that these names lack market appeal. I say slap on an appropriately Gothic font and let the flavours speak for themselves. Besides, “Lemberger” sounds like a cheese. Read the rest of this entry »

By Raymond Lamontagne

The series of odd coincidences continues during my debut blogging gig, as on day nine I draw a Riesling to complete the “favorite grape triumvirate”, and my second offering from Markus Huber. Perhaps Markus should put me on staff. An Austrian Riesling no less, a curveball tossed just as we were starting to think that we could accurately soothsay this superbly curated array of classic regions and styles. Stuart Pigott (see book in photo, a quaint but scholarly little tome) describes the Austrian persuasion as the most underrated Riesling in the world, stating that these are more crisp and fruity than Alsace, and more full-bodied, aromatic, and balanced than those of Germany. Lofty praise indeed. Although such sweeping generalizations are easy to puncture with counterexamples, particularly where Riesling is concerned, the claim is not entirely without merit. Austria’s warmer climate means that the grapes can reach greater physiological ripeness, a state more challenging to reach in colder northern regions. Less acidic, riper grapes mean that wines can be fermented completely dry, in contrast to many of the sweeter German examples. Or so goes the argument. Dry is far from rare in Germany these days.

Riesling constitutes 15% of Huber’s production. This one hails from the Berg site, an east facing vineyard with dry gravely and chalky soil stained red by iron and manganese oxides. The vineyard lies at high elevation, allowing a lengthy ripening process, and hot days and cool nights provide a Burgundian type climate, which according to Markus Huber yields “very fine aromas and spicy finesse”. Note that this is an Auslese, the German/Austrian category for a later harvest wine, with grapes picked when they are shrivelled and high in concentrated sugars. Although this means that most Auslese wines contain residual sugar, they can be fermented dry, with dryness representing a typological dimension separate from the Pradikatswein categories that capture ripeness. The Huber website makes mention of botrytis or noble rot being desirable for Auslese wines. I’ve heard and read different musings regarding the issue of botrytis and the Auslese designation. The final word seems to be that while many such wines are free of noble rot, a fair number do contain some botrytized grapes. Rest assured that any Auslese is going to be large and formidable, heedless of the presence or absence of noble rot character.

Besties hugging it out.

Here we go: 2015 Huber Riesling Auslese. I should note that I have a very low detection threshold for petrol or kerosene notes. I occasionally get these even in non-Riesling white wines, and research on other grape varieties supports the notion that I am not having olfactory hallucinations (in this case). Perhaps atypically for such a sensitive individual, I very much enjoy these diesel tractor aromas caused by 1, 1, 6-trimethyl-1, 2-dihydronaphthalene, or TDN (you can see why the acronym is an absolute must … Just a little vinification pun to keep ya on your toes). Low key to moderate TDN greets me right at the door, and then I am introduced to notes of honeysuckle and yellow asters, elderflower, furtive pink grapefruit and lemon-lime, chalk, Epsom salts, starfruit, a pinch of cinnamon and mace. The nose is mellow but rewards close scrutiny. Take your time here. The aromas are exquisitely fresh and the prominent yellow flower notes evoke a mountain meadow. The amateur botanist in me adores all these weedy wildflowers. A sip provides a sluice of tinned mandarins, fruit cup peaches and pears, dried papaya spears, candied grapefruit, Kraft caramels, a slight drizzling of honey. Not a dry Auslese (as supported by the 6.5% abv). I enjoy switching my focus between the floral nose and the focused sweetness on the palate. Fortunately there is enough acid to prevent this from being cloying. This golden deity features the somewhat clipped Huber professionalism also apparent in the Gruner from the number three spot: very precise, clean, elegant, even somewhat delicate for the style, and full of finesse. I love this winemaker and this region, but surely there isn’t a third hobgoblin of a bottle lurking in that crate, with me in the crosshairs.

92 points