Wine in the age of mechanical reproduction, or:
Why Dolcetto is the best red wine I can afford.
Our world is dominated by a monoculture of mediocrity. Few brave souls accept the challenge of seeking the truly unique and special experiences that lay beneath the glossy veneer of postmodern consumer culture. You can easily witness this by comparing the parking lots of chain restaurants (full) with those of independently owned restaurants (not full). While the streamlined national casual chains flourish, the success rate for new, independent restaurants stumbles around 10%. The wine world too is dominated by a small handful of conglomerates (over 80% of wine sold in America comes from 7 multinational corporations), but the inner workings of the American wine market are quite nuanced, and often diabolical.
In order to maintain a secure footing in the massive US market, these companies have been carefully tracking consumer preferences and purchasing some of the most successful brands. Notice I didn’t use the word wines, as the conglomerates are, in most cases, merely purchasing the label that is slapped on the new bottle. Rarely are the same vineyards, winery or wine-making team employed to produce what ends up filling that bottle.
Under new ownership, production levels are tripled, quality is halved, and the price on the shelf is dropped a couple bones. Several manipulations, like the addition of toasted oak chips to give the impression of expensive barrels, or micro-oxygenation to mimic the effects of long term ageing, are used in order to convince the consumer that the bulk wine they are now drinking, has a modicum of similarity to the wine they originally enjoyed.
It’s a classic bait and switch marketing scheme that goes like this: an average wine consumer finds the aromas and flavors of a certain wine pleasurable. This olfactory memory is imprinted in their mind, and associated with the wine’s label. This event is repeated enough times that the wine becomes so popular as to catch the attention of executives from corporations looking to increase their market share. The popular label is purchased, the wine changed in the manner above. The average wine buyer, not privy to the mergers and acquisitions of the global wine trade, purchases the new wine with the pleasant memory in mind, only to be hoodwinked into buying gussied-up bulk wine. Thus, the result is the bizarre exploitation of the human olfactory system, the unethical appropriation of human sensual memory for marketing purposes, and the unfortunate homogenization of wine styles as truly special, handcrafted wines are replaced by focus group styled facsimiles.
Of course there are independently minded winemakers in any region of the world that wouldn’t dare dream of selling to one of these companies, but nowhere in the world is this trend rejected more than in the foothills of the Italian Alps, in a fiercely traditional region known as Piedmont, where as far as I know, no forces of globalization have encroached. Families still make the wines in this fabled region. The Piedmontese are best known for the two haunting and long-lived reds made from the Nebbiolo grape: Barolo and Barbaresco. While their price tags (starting around $40) make them relative values compared with wines of similar quality from France or California, they are hardly everyday quaffers. Lucky for us, these generations’ old family producers also need to make everyday drinking wine, and do so using the Dolcetto grape.
The under appreciated Dolcetto is a grape responsible for some of the sexiest wines under $20. Sexy in that they provide just enough gushing, ripe fruit to satisfy, but do so with a sophisticated, and almost bitter minerality that creates a mysterious and intriguing tension. Their aromas and flavors meander from intensely floral violet and jasmine, to bright and fruity cherry and pomegranate, and to herbal and savory anise and black olive. The texture can range from soft and easy in the most humble offerings, to obscenely plush and velvety in the more renowned bottlings.
Dolcetto reaches its apogee in the vineyards surrounding the town of Alba. Wines made from these vines are labeled Dolcetto d’Alba. They can be savored upon release, but can easily age for 4-5 years (2008 is the current vintage). I have my favorites (Grimaldi, Clerico, Vietti), but I’ve never had one I didn’t enjoy. Dolcetto d’Alba is truly my favorite red wine that I can afford, and I think safe to say, the best.
The author drank the following wines whilst writing this column.
Silvio Grasso Dolcetto d’Alba 2008 ($15) – This generous value wafts warm fennel and strawberry preserves to your lucky nose. Strawberry biscochitos, if you can imagine. Impressive, chewy tannins.
Giacomo Grimaldi Dolcetto d’Alba 2008 ($16) – Even better, more elusive nose with distinct jasmine perfume morphing to cedar then to a faint, prosciutto-like gaminess. Black velvet.
Vietti Dolcetto d’Alba “Tres Vigne” 2008 ($23) – Sex appeal. If you got the extra clams, splurge on this three-vineyard bottling, and serve to the one you love. The gorgeous label will catch their attention; the juice inside will thrill.
Please allow these beauties an opportunity to breathe. Pour a small glass to taste, and allow the rest to sit, uncorked, for at least a half hour.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Maynard's wine movie,
Some cities have an unexplainable affinity for one or two musical groups. For example, my hometown of Las Cruces, NM has perhaps the highest per capita rates of Bone Thugs n’ Harmony fans (also high is the Cypress Hill fanbase). Albuquerque has always seemed to me a Tool town. Bumper stickers, t-shirts and tattoos attest to this observation, as does the turnout for the recent bottle signing that lead singer/winemaker Maynard James Keenan conducted at the Whole Foods on Indian School; where thousands lined up to purchase a bottle or two of wine, and get some face time, while the singer-oenophile signed away. Because of the massive turnout, most fans were no doubt disappointed with the brief encounter with this iconic man.
Albuquerque Tool and wine lovers alike can get a more intimate view of Maynard and the trials and tribulations of attempting to forge a wine frontier in the high desert of Arizona (where Maynard has been creating his Caduceus wines for the past 10 years), on March 13, when the documentary “Blood into Wine” makes its Albuquerque premier at the Guild Theater. There will be only two screenings of this film (5:00 and 7:30 pm – all seats $9). I recently sat down to watch the film, and composed the following tasting notes.
Blood into Wine, 2010
The initial perception is visual, where one is confronted by supersaturated, and digitally manipulated scenes: quite pleasing. Much like the wine created in the film, it has some nice legs (there is a Milla Jovovich cameo).
As the film develops, we get a far more intimate picture of Maynard than we’re used to from this self-consciously aloof performer. A healthy dose of humor perfectly balances the technical aspects of wine making. Very entertaining.
Overall, this is a damn good film. The finish made me long to sip some Arizona Cabernet Sauvignon, maybe while listening to the old standby “Prison Sex,” or better yet, “Sober.”
Albuquerque Tool and wine lovers alike can get a more intimate view of Maynard and the trials and tribulations of attempting to forge a wine frontier in the high desert of Arizona (where Maynard has been creating his Caduceus wines for the past 10 years), on March 13, when the documentary “Blood into Wine” makes its Albuquerque premier at the Guild Theater. There will be only two screenings of this film (5:00 and 7:30 pm – all seats $9). I recently sat down to watch the film, and composed the following tasting notes.
Blood into Wine, 2010
The initial perception is visual, where one is confronted by supersaturated, and digitally manipulated scenes: quite pleasing. Much like the wine created in the film, it has some nice legs (there is a Milla Jovovich cameo).
As the film develops, we get a far more intimate picture of Maynard than we’re used to from this self-consciously aloof performer. A healthy dose of humor perfectly balances the technical aspects of wine making. Very entertaining.
Overall, this is a damn good film. The finish made me long to sip some Arizona Cabernet Sauvignon, maybe while listening to the old standby “Prison Sex,” or better yet, “Sober.”
Hip wading the Chianti River
Hip-wading Through Chianti
In all my years of conscientiously purchasing wine, there has always been one rascally region that has both: burned me with some of the most insipid, thin, tart, and bitter; as well as thrilled me with some of the sexiest, most exciting and affordable wines I’ve tasted. That dastardly region is Chianti. And, like a jilted lover still desperately grasping on to the hope that the good-times inspired, I keep coming back to Chianti because it is one of the oldest and most storied wine producing regions in the history of the world. Oh, but Chianti, I’ve learned your ways, and even have a few tricks that have led me to a recent streak of excellent value.
But before I divulge my secrets for navigating the more-often shallow, but occasionally-deep river of Chianti that flows from West-Central Italy to our shores, we must first visit the complex, confusing and often corrupt world of Italian labeling laws.
For all intents and purposes, Italian labels are broken into three categories: Indicazione Geographica Tipica (IGT), Denominazione di Origine Controllata (DOC) and Denominazione di Origine Controllata Garantita (DOCG). Conceivably each should be a guarantee that the wines produced within these governing bodies’ jurisdictions will be consistent with agreed upon standards. And also, conceivably, the quality of the wine should increase as they ascend from IGT to DOCG. Now, it’s worth mentioning at this point that traditional region known as Chianti has been a wine-producing region since Roman times, and its traditional varietal recipe based on the Sangiovese grape has been celebrated for centuries. But, when the DOC system was being implemented in the 50’s and 60’s, the large producers in the area that held the most sway, insured that the wines produced around the area known as Chianti, would be made as inexpensively as possible, and therefore, incorporated vast lands that had never, for sound viticultural reason, been planted to grapevines. The result was the influx of bad Chianti in the American market.
And although there have been several attempts to restrict the term Chianti (most notably, the elevation of Chianti Classico to DOCG status, and the recognition of the individual constituent subregions within Chianti as DOC),the large producers have remained in control. As a result, the American consumer is still confronted by a majority of bulk Chianti producers making crap wine.
Ah, but with every majority comes a minority. And in Chianti’s case, the minority is consistently excellent; there are just a few keys to finding the diamonds in the rough. The first advice I have for would-be Chianti drinkers is to look outside of the basic Chianti category. If a label carries the name of one of the seven sub-regions in Chianti (Classico, Colli Fiorentini, Colli Senesi, etc.), that’s a good start. Second (and especially if you are looking within the basic Chianti category), look for the best, traditional producers. These typically will be owned and operated by families that have resided in the region for generations, and whose reputations reside in the quality of the wine. My favorite producers are Badia a Coltibuono, Dievole, and Isole e Olena. Third, if your wallet allows, try a Chianti Classico Riserva. One might put you back 30 bones, or so, but it will be a rare treat, and well worth the price of admission. And finally, if you are feeling extra savvy, look at the back label for the importer. There are a small few wine importers that specialize in family-owned, quality-conscious Italian producers, and each has a logo on the back label of their wines. In my opinion, the best are Dalla Terra and Marc de Grazia. If you find either name on the back label of a questionable bottle, rest assured.
Now, if on you next restaurant outing, you find yourself confronted by a wine list containing a Chianti that carries the surname of a famous Renaissance painter, give it a pass. But, if you happen to come across a Chianti you’ve never seen in the supermarket, use the aforementioned advice to guide your decision.
The author tasted the following wines whilst composing this article:
Badia e Coltibuono, Cetamura, Chianti, 2007 -- $14 retail
Nice cranberry and hibiscus nose. Big cherry cream soda component. Is that mint? Nice soft tannins and food-friendly acidity. This is the perfect match for Mediterranean food (especially the smoky baba ghanoush from Sahara).
Piazzano, Chianti, 2007 -- $13 retail
Now we’re talking. This nose reminds me of classic Bordeaux. Incredibly distinct pencil shavings on the nose (replete with hard wood and graphite aromas). I can’t believe this wine doesn’t contain any Cabernet Sauvignon. Way bigger tannic structure that makes me trust that this wine could gracefully age for 5 to 8 years. Pair this with Prime rib roast, buttered asparagus and horseradish mashed potatoes. Seriously smokin’.
Pardon the redundancy, but these wines taste like wine. Don’t expect immediate gratification from either. They both would do well with a decanting, and most likely would unleash their true potential on their second day open.
In all my years of conscientiously purchasing wine, there has always been one rascally region that has both: burned me with some of the most insipid, thin, tart, and bitter; as well as thrilled me with some of the sexiest, most exciting and affordable wines I’ve tasted. That dastardly region is Chianti. And, like a jilted lover still desperately grasping on to the hope that the good-times inspired, I keep coming back to Chianti because it is one of the oldest and most storied wine producing regions in the history of the world. Oh, but Chianti, I’ve learned your ways, and even have a few tricks that have led me to a recent streak of excellent value.
But before I divulge my secrets for navigating the more-often shallow, but occasionally-deep river of Chianti that flows from West-Central Italy to our shores, we must first visit the complex, confusing and often corrupt world of Italian labeling laws.
For all intents and purposes, Italian labels are broken into three categories: Indicazione Geographica Tipica (IGT), Denominazione di Origine Controllata (DOC) and Denominazione di Origine Controllata Garantita (DOCG). Conceivably each should be a guarantee that the wines produced within these governing bodies’ jurisdictions will be consistent with agreed upon standards. And also, conceivably, the quality of the wine should increase as they ascend from IGT to DOCG. Now, it’s worth mentioning at this point that traditional region known as Chianti has been a wine-producing region since Roman times, and its traditional varietal recipe based on the Sangiovese grape has been celebrated for centuries. But, when the DOC system was being implemented in the 50’s and 60’s, the large producers in the area that held the most sway, insured that the wines produced around the area known as Chianti, would be made as inexpensively as possible, and therefore, incorporated vast lands that had never, for sound viticultural reason, been planted to grapevines. The result was the influx of bad Chianti in the American market.
And although there have been several attempts to restrict the term Chianti (most notably, the elevation of Chianti Classico to DOCG status, and the recognition of the individual constituent subregions within Chianti as DOC),the large producers have remained in control. As a result, the American consumer is still confronted by a majority of bulk Chianti producers making crap wine.
Ah, but with every majority comes a minority. And in Chianti’s case, the minority is consistently excellent; there are just a few keys to finding the diamonds in the rough. The first advice I have for would-be Chianti drinkers is to look outside of the basic Chianti category. If a label carries the name of one of the seven sub-regions in Chianti (Classico, Colli Fiorentini, Colli Senesi, etc.), that’s a good start. Second (and especially if you are looking within the basic Chianti category), look for the best, traditional producers. These typically will be owned and operated by families that have resided in the region for generations, and whose reputations reside in the quality of the wine. My favorite producers are Badia a Coltibuono, Dievole, and Isole e Olena. Third, if your wallet allows, try a Chianti Classico Riserva. One might put you back 30 bones, or so, but it will be a rare treat, and well worth the price of admission. And finally, if you are feeling extra savvy, look at the back label for the importer. There are a small few wine importers that specialize in family-owned, quality-conscious Italian producers, and each has a logo on the back label of their wines. In my opinion, the best are Dalla Terra and Marc de Grazia. If you find either name on the back label of a questionable bottle, rest assured.
Now, if on you next restaurant outing, you find yourself confronted by a wine list containing a Chianti that carries the surname of a famous Renaissance painter, give it a pass. But, if you happen to come across a Chianti you’ve never seen in the supermarket, use the aforementioned advice to guide your decision.
The author tasted the following wines whilst composing this article:
Badia e Coltibuono, Cetamura, Chianti, 2007 -- $14 retail
Nice cranberry and hibiscus nose. Big cherry cream soda component. Is that mint? Nice soft tannins and food-friendly acidity. This is the perfect match for Mediterranean food (especially the smoky baba ghanoush from Sahara).
Piazzano, Chianti, 2007 -- $13 retail
Now we’re talking. This nose reminds me of classic Bordeaux. Incredibly distinct pencil shavings on the nose (replete with hard wood and graphite aromas). I can’t believe this wine doesn’t contain any Cabernet Sauvignon. Way bigger tannic structure that makes me trust that this wine could gracefully age for 5 to 8 years. Pair this with Prime rib roast, buttered asparagus and horseradish mashed potatoes. Seriously smokin’.
Pardon the redundancy, but these wines taste like wine. Don’t expect immediate gratification from either. They both would do well with a decanting, and most likely would unleash their true potential on their second day open.
John Sutcliffe is a Friend of Mine
I have a little secret to share with you: some of the world’s finest wines are being produced in a small ranching community called McElmo Canyon, about 15 miles outside of Cortez, Colorado. The winery producing this phenomenal, yet under-the-radar wine is Sutcliffe Vineyards, owned and operated by the incredibly verbose and gregarious Welshman cowboy, John Sutcliffe. For just under a decade, John has been producing wine of surprising quality in a state known for overly-sugarfied, sappy…wait, Colorado isn’t known for its wine at all. Dismissing the typical distributor system, he has relied on word of mouth, wine dinners at the finest restaurants in the nation, and old fashioned schlepping to move his annual production of just over 2000 cases. Seemingly, this model is working as his boutique wine is now shipped to restaurants and resorts in New York, San Francisco, Dusseldorf, London, the Turks and Caicos islands, and soon Beijing. I recently sat down with Mr. Sutcliffe at the Artichoke Café for an enlightening discussion and not a few glasses of his newly released Viognier and Syrah.
IQ: How did a Welsh rugby player, raised with a chauffeur, who went to the same school as Winston Churchill, become a winemaker in the backwoods of southern Colorado?
JS: Well, it was never a lofty dream, we planted vines almost aesthetically on the farm while running cattle and growing hay. We grew the grapes, pressed them, and they tasted good. Making wine in the canyon feels almost biblical, mate. We’re completely frozen in winter and spring, roasted to death in the summer, blown away, I mean practically desiccated in the Autumn. But, we make great wine.
IQ: Describe your winemaking philosophy.
JS: Incredible patience. I’m a farmer, and everything I do stems from there. It sounds trite, but I know that everything is done in the vineyard. Listen, I firmly believe that our interference is damaging. I’m serious about this. Given that you are getting the best possible grapes, the gentlest low-tech press, the best French oak barrels, the happiest vineyard workers, all of which you’ll find at my ranch, the less interference the better. You know mate, there is a movement afoot that stresses both the idea of terroir [the French concept that the conditions under which grapes grow, including the composition of the soil and unique weather conditions, contribute a specific flavor to the wines] and leaner wines. It’s becoming quite fashionable to make lean wines. Now, I’m a firm believer in terroir, but what if your terroir wants you to make giant, lush fruit bombs with high alcohol levels. Our terroir defines the word extreme, so our wines reflect the harsh landscape and climate. We just acquired an incredible asset in Joe Buckel, formerly the wine maker at Flowers in Sonoma. Flowers was one of the most celebrated wineries in the country, and we’re delighted to have him on board. He wouldn’t be such a good fit if we didn’t share the same philosophy.
IQ: What winemaking region in the world does McElmo Canyon most resemble?
JS: You know I’m asked this question quite often, and I’m always at a loss for an answer. Nothing has the severity of winter or the blistering summer. Compounding both, we have an incredibly high altitude, which magnifies the effects of cold, heat and sun. But, the very things that terrify and terrorize us are what make the wines great and so special.
IQ: What is the most memorable wine you’ve ever drunk?
JS: Although I’m a red wine drinker, the wine that changed my idea of wine forever was a “Le Montrachet” [a grand cru burgundy with a prohibitive price tag, made from the Chardonnay grape] from the early 70’s. I don’t recall the producer, but I tasted it in New York soon after opening Tavern on the Green. So lush, and long. It seemed like bottled sunshine, which, I suppose, it was.
IQ: I’ve tried your Signature Chardonnay, and always compared it to white Burgundy, did that bottle shape your expectations of what the grape could become?
JS: Once you’ve tasted a wine with such power and grace…well it’s like having seen Coltrane or Charlie Parker, you can’t go back from it.
IQ: What’s the best wine you’ve ever made?
JS: We’ve been tasting the 08’s, which is our best harvest with Joe. I’m expecting to do a Bordeaux blend that we’ll call “Trawsfynydd” [pronounced traus-VEN-ith] which is the village in which my grandmother grew up in Wales. After barrel-tasting the different components, I’m sure that this will be the finest 100 cases that we’ve ever seen.
Despite the ridiculously unpronounceable name, the “Trawsfynydd” seems to promise a bright future for this boutique winery in southern Colorado. And it seems as though the secret of John Sutcliffe’s wines is getting out. His most recent wine dinner at the Artichoke Café was sold out a month in advance.
Sutcliffe Vineyards Viognier, 2008 – The nose is like walking through an orchard of peaches in the spring as well as late summer, when both the blossoms are in full bloom and the fruit is falling-off-the-branch ripe. Almost lurid. On the palette the wine shows the big roundness that the 14.5% alcohol promised, but without any off-putting fuminess one gets from high-booze wines. It has the viscosity that should accompany this ancient Rhone varietal. The peachy aspect remains intact throughout the long finish. 20 seconds after the initial sip, and one is left with a pleasant, almond bitterness. Sophisticated, stunning and altogether sexy.
Sutcliffe Vineyards Syrah, 2007 – Gorgeous nose that is full of over-ripe blueberries and fresh cracked black pepper. After a half hour in the glass, secondary aromas that reminded me of leather and really good beef jerky began to rise from the glass. A bit of tobacco made me regret quitting smoking. The first sip was eye-opening in its power. A rush of fruit, backed by some serious tannins, which are rare for this varietal. Also rare for such a lusciously rich wine is acid, which in this case was refreshingly high.
After tasting all of John’s wines for three vintages now, these two wines typify what I’ve come to expect: they will all taste correct according to the grape varietal, but they will also intrigue and amuse. I imagine that this is what John Sutcliffe adds to his particular terroir, an indescribable charm that sets him apart from any other winemaker I’ve met.
IQ: How did a Welsh rugby player, raised with a chauffeur, who went to the same school as Winston Churchill, become a winemaker in the backwoods of southern Colorado?
JS: Well, it was never a lofty dream, we planted vines almost aesthetically on the farm while running cattle and growing hay. We grew the grapes, pressed them, and they tasted good. Making wine in the canyon feels almost biblical, mate. We’re completely frozen in winter and spring, roasted to death in the summer, blown away, I mean practically desiccated in the Autumn. But, we make great wine.
IQ: Describe your winemaking philosophy.
JS: Incredible patience. I’m a farmer, and everything I do stems from there. It sounds trite, but I know that everything is done in the vineyard. Listen, I firmly believe that our interference is damaging. I’m serious about this. Given that you are getting the best possible grapes, the gentlest low-tech press, the best French oak barrels, the happiest vineyard workers, all of which you’ll find at my ranch, the less interference the better. You know mate, there is a movement afoot that stresses both the idea of terroir [the French concept that the conditions under which grapes grow, including the composition of the soil and unique weather conditions, contribute a specific flavor to the wines] and leaner wines. It’s becoming quite fashionable to make lean wines. Now, I’m a firm believer in terroir, but what if your terroir wants you to make giant, lush fruit bombs with high alcohol levels. Our terroir defines the word extreme, so our wines reflect the harsh landscape and climate. We just acquired an incredible asset in Joe Buckel, formerly the wine maker at Flowers in Sonoma. Flowers was one of the most celebrated wineries in the country, and we’re delighted to have him on board. He wouldn’t be such a good fit if we didn’t share the same philosophy.
IQ: What winemaking region in the world does McElmo Canyon most resemble?
JS: You know I’m asked this question quite often, and I’m always at a loss for an answer. Nothing has the severity of winter or the blistering summer. Compounding both, we have an incredibly high altitude, which magnifies the effects of cold, heat and sun. But, the very things that terrify and terrorize us are what make the wines great and so special.
IQ: What is the most memorable wine you’ve ever drunk?
JS: Although I’m a red wine drinker, the wine that changed my idea of wine forever was a “Le Montrachet” [a grand cru burgundy with a prohibitive price tag, made from the Chardonnay grape] from the early 70’s. I don’t recall the producer, but I tasted it in New York soon after opening Tavern on the Green. So lush, and long. It seemed like bottled sunshine, which, I suppose, it was.
IQ: I’ve tried your Signature Chardonnay, and always compared it to white Burgundy, did that bottle shape your expectations of what the grape could become?
JS: Once you’ve tasted a wine with such power and grace…well it’s like having seen Coltrane or Charlie Parker, you can’t go back from it.
IQ: What’s the best wine you’ve ever made?
JS: We’ve been tasting the 08’s, which is our best harvest with Joe. I’m expecting to do a Bordeaux blend that we’ll call “Trawsfynydd” [pronounced traus-VEN-ith] which is the village in which my grandmother grew up in Wales. After barrel-tasting the different components, I’m sure that this will be the finest 100 cases that we’ve ever seen.
Despite the ridiculously unpronounceable name, the “Trawsfynydd” seems to promise a bright future for this boutique winery in southern Colorado. And it seems as though the secret of John Sutcliffe’s wines is getting out. His most recent wine dinner at the Artichoke Café was sold out a month in advance.
Sutcliffe Vineyards Viognier, 2008 – The nose is like walking through an orchard of peaches in the spring as well as late summer, when both the blossoms are in full bloom and the fruit is falling-off-the-branch ripe. Almost lurid. On the palette the wine shows the big roundness that the 14.5% alcohol promised, but without any off-putting fuminess one gets from high-booze wines. It has the viscosity that should accompany this ancient Rhone varietal. The peachy aspect remains intact throughout the long finish. 20 seconds after the initial sip, and one is left with a pleasant, almond bitterness. Sophisticated, stunning and altogether sexy.
Sutcliffe Vineyards Syrah, 2007 – Gorgeous nose that is full of over-ripe blueberries and fresh cracked black pepper. After a half hour in the glass, secondary aromas that reminded me of leather and really good beef jerky began to rise from the glass. A bit of tobacco made me regret quitting smoking. The first sip was eye-opening in its power. A rush of fruit, backed by some serious tannins, which are rare for this varietal. Also rare for such a lusciously rich wine is acid, which in this case was refreshingly high.
After tasting all of John’s wines for three vintages now, these two wines typify what I’ve come to expect: they will all taste correct according to the grape varietal, but they will also intrigue and amuse. I imagine that this is what John Sutcliffe adds to his particular terroir, an indescribable charm that sets him apart from any other winemaker I’ve met.
In Defense of Aussie Wine
In Defense of Australian Wines
Fashions and fads, by their very nature, come and go almost overnight. This observation has special resonance in the wine world, where one day vintners are planting every hectare under their control with ultra-fashionable Merlot vines, and the next, ripping out the passé Merlot only to get the now-hip Pinot Noir vines in the ground. The trends are seldom rooted in reality, but usually sprout from the whims of an easily persuaded, and very fickle populace. Such is the case with the once-lauded-over, now-laughed-at Australian wines.
As few as three years ago, Aussie wine was the hottest juice in America (and not just because they are high in alcohol), driven by the so-called “critter wines” (i.e. wines with animals on their labels). But as their reputation for mass-produced plonk eclipsed their reputation for quality conscious fine wine, the industry lost its ability to command more than just a few dollars per bottle. As Americans began to realize that the Yellow Tails, Little Penguins and attach-your-cute-adjective-here Platypi they were swilling last year were no longer hip, the market for bulk Aussie wines in America tanked, taking along with it the family-owned, quality conscious producers as well.
Nowadays, the criticism of Australian wine seems to come in one of two forms: Old School snobbishness, and New School insecurity. The former is a snobbishness that is voiced mostly by cranky Francophiles (a group with which the author self-identifies) and other various sticks-in-the-mud. Aussie wine, or any new world wine for that matter, they argue, is inherently inferior to the style, grace and pedigree of the old world wines. These types complain about the exuberant fruit (“garish and banal”) and high alcohol (“pedestrian filth”) of Aussie wines, probably enjoy the smell of their own toe jam, and by complaining in such a fashion are most likely overcompensating for something.
As a side note, in the late 1800’s a microscopic bug called Phylloxera nearly wiped out the entire European wine industry by destroying most of the vines planted on the continent. It was found that North American rootstock was resistant to the louse, and so all of the most famous vineyards thoughout Europe were replanted with American rootstock. Phylloxera never hit Australian shores; so consequently, the Aussies have some of the oldest vines in the world, older than any in France (Sacre bleu!).
The latter complaint is more like the knee-jerk backlash against the critter wines that tanked the industry a few years back. Nowadays, it is usually coming from the insecure newbie, so concerned with not being lumped in with the tragically unhip still fawning over the silly wombat on a bottle of grocery store wine. The advocates of this brand of prejudice are coincidentally the same who cast off all Riesling as being “too sweet,” then proceed to down a half gallon of Dr. Pepper or frickin’ Sweet Tea with lunch.
Both of these attitudes are unfortunate, both for the families of quality-driven producers in Australia thinking of closing up shop, as well as for the complainers themselves. Those silly enough to adhere to either line of criticism are doing themselves an injustice in not reveling in what the wines have to offer in abundance: a particular type of warm, ripe fruit that can be found nowhere else in the world. But for those in the know (a group with which you can now self-identify) there is one bright side to the ridiculously fickle fashions and fads: just as the price of really high quality merlot dropped soon after Sideways debuted, the once-prohibitive price of some of the best Aussie juice has been similarly slashed, and it’s now possible to get in the driver’s seat of something really tremendous for under twenty bones. Highly recommended are any wines by d’Arenberg, Kaesler, Langmeil, and Glaetzer. All are super-premium, all world-class, and none have critters on their labels. The following wines are especially good values the author drank whilst writing this.
Woop Woop Shiraz 2008 ($11-13) - Silly name, excellent wine. Imagine taking the quintessential aromas and flavors of blueberry/plum (a blum) and polishing them to high gloss, then adding a hint of eucalyptic cola (a high quality cola – free-range, organic, hippy coop-cola), then making sure the result is super soft and juicy; that’s basically this wine.
Kaesler “Stonehorse” Grenache, Shiraz, Mourvedre 2006 ($17-18) - Earthy tobacco and mushroom (like the water after re-hydrating dried shitake) on the nose. If cherry and velvet ever had a love child, it was born in this wine. Succulent. After 45 minutes of air, there appears a new aroma, so woody and minerally, that can only be described as pencil shavings. Wow, long finish, too.
Fashions and fads, by their very nature, come and go almost overnight. This observation has special resonance in the wine world, where one day vintners are planting every hectare under their control with ultra-fashionable Merlot vines, and the next, ripping out the passé Merlot only to get the now-hip Pinot Noir vines in the ground. The trends are seldom rooted in reality, but usually sprout from the whims of an easily persuaded, and very fickle populace. Such is the case with the once-lauded-over, now-laughed-at Australian wines.
As few as three years ago, Aussie wine was the hottest juice in America (and not just because they are high in alcohol), driven by the so-called “critter wines” (i.e. wines with animals on their labels). But as their reputation for mass-produced plonk eclipsed their reputation for quality conscious fine wine, the industry lost its ability to command more than just a few dollars per bottle. As Americans began to realize that the Yellow Tails, Little Penguins and attach-your-cute-adjective-here Platypi they were swilling last year were no longer hip, the market for bulk Aussie wines in America tanked, taking along with it the family-owned, quality conscious producers as well.
Nowadays, the criticism of Australian wine seems to come in one of two forms: Old School snobbishness, and New School insecurity. The former is a snobbishness that is voiced mostly by cranky Francophiles (a group with which the author self-identifies) and other various sticks-in-the-mud. Aussie wine, or any new world wine for that matter, they argue, is inherently inferior to the style, grace and pedigree of the old world wines. These types complain about the exuberant fruit (“garish and banal”) and high alcohol (“pedestrian filth”) of Aussie wines, probably enjoy the smell of their own toe jam, and by complaining in such a fashion are most likely overcompensating for something.
As a side note, in the late 1800’s a microscopic bug called Phylloxera nearly wiped out the entire European wine industry by destroying most of the vines planted on the continent. It was found that North American rootstock was resistant to the louse, and so all of the most famous vineyards thoughout Europe were replanted with American rootstock. Phylloxera never hit Australian shores; so consequently, the Aussies have some of the oldest vines in the world, older than any in France (Sacre bleu!).
The latter complaint is more like the knee-jerk backlash against the critter wines that tanked the industry a few years back. Nowadays, it is usually coming from the insecure newbie, so concerned with not being lumped in with the tragically unhip still fawning over the silly wombat on a bottle of grocery store wine. The advocates of this brand of prejudice are coincidentally the same who cast off all Riesling as being “too sweet,” then proceed to down a half gallon of Dr. Pepper or frickin’ Sweet Tea with lunch.
Both of these attitudes are unfortunate, both for the families of quality-driven producers in Australia thinking of closing up shop, as well as for the complainers themselves. Those silly enough to adhere to either line of criticism are doing themselves an injustice in not reveling in what the wines have to offer in abundance: a particular type of warm, ripe fruit that can be found nowhere else in the world. But for those in the know (a group with which you can now self-identify) there is one bright side to the ridiculously fickle fashions and fads: just as the price of really high quality merlot dropped soon after Sideways debuted, the once-prohibitive price of some of the best Aussie juice has been similarly slashed, and it’s now possible to get in the driver’s seat of something really tremendous for under twenty bones. Highly recommended are any wines by d’Arenberg, Kaesler, Langmeil, and Glaetzer. All are super-premium, all world-class, and none have critters on their labels. The following wines are especially good values the author drank whilst writing this.
Woop Woop Shiraz 2008 ($11-13) - Silly name, excellent wine. Imagine taking the quintessential aromas and flavors of blueberry/plum (a blum) and polishing them to high gloss, then adding a hint of eucalyptic cola (a high quality cola – free-range, organic, hippy coop-cola), then making sure the result is super soft and juicy; that’s basically this wine.
Kaesler “Stonehorse” Grenache, Shiraz, Mourvedre 2006 ($17-18) - Earthy tobacco and mushroom (like the water after re-hydrating dried shitake) on the nose. If cherry and velvet ever had a love child, it was born in this wine. Succulent. After 45 minutes of air, there appears a new aroma, so woody and minerally, that can only be described as pencil shavings. Wow, long finish, too.
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