A Mosse and a Baudry from 2009

The basic take I've heard regarding the Loire vintage of 2009 is that the vintage is quite full and ripe, with favorable warmth for the reds, perhaps over-warmth for the whites, and a fine September (and mostly fine October) for healthy grapes of all colors. But this is a generalization, and each wine will speak in its own voice, some to an extent that overturns expectations.

Bernard Baudry Chinon Les Granges 2009
I adore Baudry's wines and I was expecting full young fruit, easy drinking, and expressive typicité in equal measure, with a low 12.5% alcohol promising a snappy attack. In practice, this has all the classic, lovely aromas I love about Chinon, but although the wine is nicely proportioned, with the acidity and fruit and minerality seemingly in their right places, the palate is strangely muted; it just doesn't have the spark, the informal elegance, or the mid-palate depth that I associate with Les Granges at this age. I drank this over three days' time in the hopes it would blossom, but it never unfurled (and actually it just turned slightly medicinal by the third night). Curious. John Gilman reported a favorable experience; might this be undergoing a particularly sullen adolescence?

Mosse Anjou Blanc 2009
I'm really honing in on the structure and acidity of the 2009 Loire whites I try (and by "whites" I really mean Muscadet and chenin from its many appellations). I'm asking myself if they have the bones and the guts for aging, or if even hints of softness that apparently mark some wines obscure terroir and suggest a short life.

Agnès and Réné Mosse's basic Anjou Blanc suffers not the least from softness. Rather, I was overjoyed (as in, you would have told me to settle down) to find a marvelous and highly expressive wine with considerable focus and complexity. There's some passionfruit on the nose that's allied to cantaloupe and ginger aromas, but any tropical fruit characteristics are solely aromatic. It's the snappy, medium-bodied palate that really makes me happy; there's a spicy singularity here that obviates the need to list the many descriptors I could use, particularly as it's so complete and quite long. That the vines for this cuvée were planted within the last ten years make the complexity and singularity that much more impressive. The mere 7 grams of RS are not enough to render this a sec tendre; it tastes completely dry, and the alliance of austerity and voluptuousness that is a hallmark of top-notch Anjou sec is in full force here. People, can you feel the love? I sure can.

Not a Rosé, At First Blush

I have decided that 2011 is going to be a great year. And to get the year kicked off, I'm going to fete this exuberant little number that I admittedly drank a few months ago but which would have been great over the last weekend. It's a wine that seemingly shouldn't be what it is, and is definitely what it says it is not.

"Ceci n'est pas un rosé," says the Anjou producer Domaine des Sablonnettes, who are really a couple named Christine and Joël Ménard. And you'd believe them at first blush, so to speak. Look at it: this cabernet franc and cabernet sauvignon blend couldn't possibly be rosé? Ah, but it is, and not surprisingly it's a Vin de Table, not one approved by the appellation authorities.

If "vibrant" is a Loire hallmark, this wine was so vibrant that it seemed to possess a life and an imagination of its own. It had a snoot of earth and rhubarb and garden herbs and crazy dry rocks. The firm, tart, joyful palate made me think of a raspberry-strewn rock garden; and then it turned so long and airy on the finish. I was really taken with this.

I cannot find much information about this wine, save that the Ménards grow the grapes biodynamically, never inoculate or chaptalize, that sort of thing. Had I known of the Ménards last June I would have dropped by when I passed through Rablay sur Layon, the better to understand them and their not-rosé. An opportunity lost.

No, stop! This is not a wine for brooding upon regrets! It is for celebrating, and I in turn will simply celebrate it. Cheers to us all!

And On the Second Day, He Rested

Tuesday nights are not for opening the best bottle of wine, but — correct me if I'm wrong here — we all hope for something not merely tasty, but something darn good, yes? I opened the following sub-$15 wines on various Tuesday nights and was happy with two of the three.

Château de la Roulerie Anjou Rouge 2008
This cabernet franc comes from the schistous soils of St-Aubin de Luigné and it's textbook unoaked 2008 Anjou — there's an edge to the acidity that jousts well with the dark, juicy, and fairly concentrated plum / blackcurrant fruit, the stemmy dried herb notes, the brown and rock-flecked earth tones. Did I say the fruit is juicy? Yes, but it's also almost entirely bereft of sweetness. Clearly, this is old world and old school. I really enjoy the way this wine shows a fair amount of heft upon entry and then lifts nicely toward the back of the palate, and I enjoyed it with a spicy butternut squash soup. See a nice profile of the domaine from The Wine Doctor.

Domaine Catherine Le Goeuil Côtes du Rhône Villages Cairanne 2007
The 2007 Rhônes I've had that emphasize restraint can, I think, justify much of the vintage hype. Some I've tasted show phenomenal balance and depth. This, however, is not one of them. Despite the undercurrent of minerality and the fleshy, tasty fruit, this is a bit heavy, a touch hot, and quite alcoholic, and while there is acidity, this performs as if it were acidified — it isn't quite integrated into the wine somehow.

Quattro Mani [toh-kai] Exto Gredic Vineyard 2008
Once upon a time I had a sauvignon blanc from Slovenia and I thought, "If Chablis grew sauvignon blanc, this is what it would be like." I was wrong, in the sense that there wasn't any seashell chalkiness, but there was a dry, steely, acid-forward character to the wine that I've since found in all the better Slovenian non-contact whites I've had, and which I find in this wine as well.

I'm not sure who's behind the Quattro Mani brand but the concept is to hire named vignerons to produce wines from throughout Italy and points nearby. This one's made in Slovenia by Movia winemaker Aleš Kristančič and it's damn cool and distinctive. Hell, it's even a single vineyard wine made from the friulano grape, or tocai friulano as it is also known. The nose is, vinously speaking, exotically herbal — it has leek, macerated mint, and basil aromas — and it's also a touch honeyed. Its steely structure is unmistakable, and still it's overlain by a round, almost rich, yet somehow un-fruited body. The finish is long and fairly complex, and it's a pretty mighty achievement given the price tag.

Visiting Romain Guiberteau in Saumur

At last I reached the Mothership: the Loire Valley, home of my adored chenin, home of rare indigenous varieties secreted in small plots, and home to some of the most dynamic set of winemakers in the world, many of whom pursue natural winemaking in their own ways and on their own terms. As much as I would have loved to have visited the Touraine, I focused on the Layon because of its schist and because I correctly assumed the winemakers there would have particularly interesting things to say.

But before I hit the Layon, I stayed in Saumur and biked down to Domaine Guiberteau in Mollay, just west of the great calcareous vineyards of Brézé. After experiencing three of Romain Guiberteau's wines earlier this year, it was a no-brainer to visit, a must.

Romain's grandfather bought up vineyards some decades ago but the domaine began bottling its own crop only in the mid-80s, and Romain has taken the domaine in a completely natural direction: No chemical sprays, no chaptalization, no enzymes or stabilizers, indigenous yeasts only, and a leave-it-alone approach — to paraphrase Romain, when you leave a wine alone, such as letting chenin rest on its lees rather than stirring it, it may take longer for the wine to be what it will be, but it will be better when it gets there.

Like many a Burgundian, Romain begins the tasting with the reds, which are made entirely from cabernet franc. 2009 marks a new direction for the domaine-level wines, as they are now to be aged in inox only rather than used barrels as was previously the case (and will still be the case for the lieu-dits). This allows him to respond to clients' requests for a lower-priced wine, but he also now prefers to emphasize the fruit. He finds that his reds up through 2006 are too big and concentrated for his taste. I think they have the stuffing and balance to age very well and are not at all overly large, but that is my taste. Regardless, it's clear that more recent vintages are not the least bit lesser; they are merely different.

2009 Rouge: The domaine wine had just finished malo two weeks prior to my arrival and it will be bottled in September. It is a beautiful wine, very pure, and the greatness of the vintage shines through. It is the essence of cabernet franc, fresh and deep and savory. 75% of the grapes are plucked from calcareous soils and 25% are of argile.

2008 Rouge: This spent 15 months in used barrels. 2008 was a high acid year and it was a difficult vintage, as 60% of the crop was lost to a freeze. Between my bad French and his much better English I try to understand the nature of the freeze — apparently it was not frost — but I will have to let this point be a mystery for the time being. But there's no question about this wine's beauty with its lovely dark fruits. Again, there is no trace of overripeness or overextraction, and for it the wine seems effortless. Romain says this should be particularly good in 2012.

2007 Les Motelles Rouge: This 1.4 ha lieu-dit is planted on argile in Montreuil-Bellay and the wine spent 18 months in a mix of one, two, and three year old barrels. This is lighter and more floral than the 2008 domaine, as befits a cabernet franc from 2007, but it still has good tannins and a lovely raspberry aspect. I ask about disease pressure and other problems, but Romain said he experienced none of that in 2007.

2007 Les Arboises Rouge: Romain does use some new barrels for this wine but there is not a trace of vanillin or toast. Rather, its purity is striking. This comes from a calcareous lieu-dit in Brézé and it's a bit less floral than the Motelles and shows greater acidity. The balance is great, too, and I love the red plum-like fruit. Like the Motelles, the vines for this wine were planted over 50 years ago.

Now it's time for the whites. Romain says he trades with winemakers from both Burgundy and from the south; he gets their reds, they get his whites, everyone is happy. I have nothing to trade, but I am still happy. Asia should be happy, too, as they get 40% of his production. Here in the US, only Illinois sees his wines.

2009 Domaine Blanc: This spent six months sur lie — no battonage, as previously mentioned. I've tasted a good amount of dry, unoaked Loire chenin over the years, and they are often nice straightforward wines for easy drinking. This is several notches above those wines. Just as the rouge is the essence of cabernet franc, this wine is the essence of dry chenin from primarily calcareous soils. Gorgeous apple flavors here, with depth and presence. Some young vine fruit is blended with fruit from 55 year old vines.

2008 Clos de Guichaux: This is a monopole of extremely young vines grown on argilo-calcaires, but Romain does not want to print "monopole" on the label until he is sure that the wines will perform well year in and year out, through difficult vintages and easy. The vineyard has only 30 cm of soil atop the bedrock. Romain likes this with cream sauces since its high acidity really cuts through richer food. For my part, I find this is gorgeous, with beautiful peach-driven flavors and impeccable balance. This spent 13 months in two to four year old barrels.

2007 Clos des Carmes: This is another monopole and it says so on the label. It's 2.6 hectares but only 0.5 ha worth makes it into this wine; the rest goes into the Brézé blanc. Interestingly, the vines were only 3 years old when the grapes were harvested and yet this cuvée was aged in 100% new oak for 24 months, which unlike the other wines imparts some vanillin character. Romain does not follow a recipe; he says that the batch that was aged in these barrels turned out the best and so he decided to bottle it separately.

2007 Brézé Blanc: I guess I'm an unoriginal thinker, because my notes again use the word "gorgeous." That's not to say that the wine isn't distinctive: it shows honeyed aromas that the above whites do not, and it's full in the nose and even fuller in the mouth. Of course, it's still dry. It has the acidity to move things along and the wine is both fully present — it hits every part of the palate in just the right way — and very long. This spent 24 months in new and used barrels, and no obvious oak flavors come through. It's complex and transparent. I ask Romain what makes Brézé special, why the wines from this slope are just that much better than most other spots in Saumur, and he says he doesn't know, exactly.

But to invoke Gertrude Stein, there's there there, and Romain confesses that he's very lucky: he has access to great terroir and is making a solid living without compromising his approach. Luck, yes, but also skill: these are the best Saumur wines of any that I've had. I climb back on to my bike and see a youngster looking at me inquisitively from inside the house. Someone inside is playing a piano; family is over for the day and Romain goes back inside to join them.

Guiberteau's Fabulous Saumurs

Why the blogs are not abuzz over the wines from Saumur's Domaine Guiberteau is beyond me. Nothing from even Jim's Loire or any other Loire-friendly, English language blog out there that I can see. The wines are a tad pricey (mid-20s), but they're worth it as far as I'm concerned. I'm very happy that my friend Erin turned me onto them!

The wines are ultra-clean, but they are also naturally-made, transparent, and completely expressive of place. If I (and Google Translate) interpret their French-only web site correctly, the domaine hand-harvests both their organically-grown chenin blanc and their cabernet franc from 25+ year old vines to the tune of 45 hl/ha. Romain Guiberteau ferments the wine solely with native yeasts, eschews all enzymes and stabilizers, and ages the basic "domaine" level wines in two to four year old oak barrels (the top wines do see some new oak, but I've not had them). The soils are clay and calcareous silex.

The first wine I experienced from Guiberteau was the 2005 Saumur Blanc, and it's stunning. The aromas of lavender, paraffin, and apple skin show great clarity. The wine is dry and utterly precise on the palate, with a come-to-jesus delivery of elegant concentration (and concentrated elegance) — the pear and melon fruit is layered with chalky minerality, stony lemon, rainwater, and firm, well-structured acidity. The texture is full and nicely defined — the angles haven't been overly sanded down — and the finish is long.

2007 may have been a more difficult vintage, but the 2007 Saumur Blanc is, in its own way, just as successful as the 2005. It's very firm and dry as befits the vintage, but there's a richness underlying the steely, high-acid structure. It's slightly chalky on the nose; otherwise, it's quite closed aromatically speaking. It's more expressive on the palate, with flavors of melon, tart apple, honey, and nuts, and it's very dry on the long, citric finish. It's exceptionally well balanced and has the bones to age, and it should blossom as it does — it's just a baby!

Finally, I was gratified to comes across the 2006 Saumur Rouge on the wine list at the vegetarian-focused Green Zebra. This 2006 was just barely coming into its drinking window, as you'd expect from a concentrated, well-made Saumur rouge from this structured vintage, but expressive it was: a twinge of herbs, some black olive notes, beautiful acidity, and good earthiness. It was a great companion with my green papaya salad, my earthy dal, and even the pan-seared scallops served with braised mushrooms. Meanwhile, my dining companion, who's not geeky like me but enjoys solid reds with good fruit, very much liked it as well.

Do these wines represent the Platonic ideal of excellent Saumur? Maybe! I've never had the Saumur-Champignys of Clos Rougeard, for example, so I'd rather not spout such things off. But I'm happy to spout off about Romain Guiberteau's wines in general.

The Loire Transmitted Via Baudry and Puzelat ca. 2007

After I fell in love with dry and demi-sec Vouvray some years ago, I was driven to learn more about Loire chenin, and so I crossed the river to Montlouis and went downriver to Savennières. I began reading about reading about the nearby appellations, and soon enough my palate was making loop-de-loops throughout the Loire. Hello, Bourgueil, hello, Chinon, pleased to meet you. I was initially more intellectually engaged by Loire reds than emotionally engaged, but then I found some that changed that dynamic, although doubtlessly my palate became more open to these wines simply by virtue of exposure.

The rains of 2007 in the middle Loire did not necessarily cause dilution, but acid and tannin levels are typically lower than in the more structured vintages that surround it, and people more experienced than I say that 2007 Loire reds are early drinkers compared to 04, 05, 06, 08, and (it is thought) 09. That is, while my favorite producers' wines are transparent in every vintage, the wines from 2007 will likely express the terroir and the vintage more quickly and are less apt to last. I continue to put this received wisdom to the test.

Thierry Puzelat Le Telquel (lot 2007)
It's now more common for American shoppers to see Loire reds made from grapes other than cabernet franc, and among the 500,000 cuvees that Thierry Puzelat makes, both with his brother under the Clos Tue Boeuf moniker and on his own, is this 100% gamay, a negociant bottling sourced from a variety of vineyards in the central Loire. Back in August of 2008, Mr. McDuff reported that there was "no mistaking it for anything other than Gamay" due to its pure and bright red fruit. With a further year's evolution under its skinny belt, I actually could mistake this for something other than gamay, but I would not, I think, mistake it for anything but the Loire.

Certainly with its nose of black cherry, smoke, roasted barley, black olive, and worcestershire sauce, I wouldn't peg this as Beaujolais — the olive note in particular recalls, say, Saumur, although the barley and smoke notes push this wine closer to the Clos Roche Blance 2007 Gamay. The Telquel is fairly concentrated and the texture is more rustic than refined, and driven by robust cherry-tart acidity. There's plenty of primary, non-sweet fruit on the palate — tangy plum, mostly, with a hint of olive — yet it's just starting to turn autumnal, with aspects of dried leaves and brown earth minerality.

Is this an expressive early drinker? You betcha. I suspect the acidity will seem harsh after the fruit fades but I expect this to drink very nicely over the next 6-12 months.

Bernard Baudry Chinon Les Granges 2007
Baudry's entry-level Les Granges, per the excellent profile at The Wine Doctor is "a wine produced from 6 hectares of vines planted on alluvial sand and gravel soils on the banks of the Vienne between 1985 and 1988; when the Vienne bursts its banks the vineyard can flood, and Baudry has been known to undertake pruning from a rowing-boat." Um, wow.

Les Granges is meant for early drinking — at least by Baudry standards. I'm not sure whether this sees oak or not. The Baudry web site mentions nothing about oak aging, but I've read elsewhere that it is aged in older, more neutral oak. It hardly seems to matter, as I am consistently bowled over by the purity, elegance, and transparency of M. Baudry's wines (even the 2003 Les Grézeaux was astonishingly elegant given the crushing heat of the vintage).

My rule of thumb is to wait three years before opening better Loire cabernet franc, a rule that even this meant-for-early-drinking wine validated to some degree, as it was fairly tight when first opened. But no worries: over the course of the evening it slowly revealed aromas of coffee, smoke, candied ginger (!), sweet black cherry, and especially iodine. It also became very expressive on the palate, as the flavors of cherry, graphite, and blackcurrant are nicely framed by (and integrated with) both acidity and tannins. Finally, there are fine, pure, iodine-rich minerals on the medium-long finish.

It's a mystery to me why I don't have more Baudry in my life. I think that's a mystery I should solve.

Giving Napa a Chance

Cornelia was dutiful; that was the trouble with her. Dutiful and good: 'So good and dutiful,' said Granny, 'that I'd like to spank her.' She saw herself spanking Cornelia and making a fine job of it.

— "The Jilting of Granny Weatherall" by Katherine Anne Porter

I rarely give Napa wines half a chance. I am — shall I admit it? — prejudiced. As in, I presume, prejudge. They're apt to be hot, overoaked, overripe, blah blah blah. This has too often been my experience, but my experience is limited.

I felt it was time to confront my prejudice. To experience more.

So I shelled out the clams on a 2004 White Rock Claret, a sustainably-grown blend of 60% cabernet sauvignon, 20% merlot, 15% cabernet franc, and 5% petit verdot from north- and west-facing vineyards in the Napa foothills in the Stag's Leap Range. "We have never used pesticides," say the Vandendriessche family on their web site, and "avoid the use of herbicides." I'm also pleased that the wine bottle is not overly heavy.

Craig Camp recently noted that "cabernet franc is packed with umami," and that "its 'umami' effect on cabernet sauvignon cannot be overstated. A dollop of cabernet franc 'lifts' the nose and expands the finish on many a cabernet." That's certainly the case here, as this is a very well balanced wine that delivers a wide range of aromas and flavors with, yes, umami characteristics. I find licorice, cocoa, soy sauce, mint, tobacco, blackberry, and even a subtle high note of cranberry. The nose is both sweet and brothy, and it's quite velvety and rich on the palate but not at all heavy, thanks to its low yet still fresh acidity, and this shows an admirable streak of brothy minerality on the finish.

This White Rock Claret is darn tasty, and as it's not at all hot, overoaked, or overripe, I'm pleased that it overruns these prejudices. In fact, I think there are many lovely things about this wine.

So why am I not excited? One problem is that it lacks depth; all the action is on the front of the palate. Another is that the lovely fruit and umami characteristics are nicely integrated but they do not become more than the sum of their parts. Flavor and texture is emphasized at the expense of structure. And then there's the fact that the mouth turned swampy on night two — there goes what structure was there.

Most importantly, even at its peak the wine feels tame. Imagine if James had never crawled into that giant peach: his life would have been circumscribed by Sponger and Spiker. The White Rock Claret hits its marks but is not unbound. It's so dutiful that I'd like to spank it.

Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm just Granny Weatherall here, unappreciative, "tying up in hard knots." And she was, in the end, wrong about everything. I'm calling 'em like I see 'em, in any case.

Drink Your Green Vegetables!

Do you like a hit of eucalyptus or mint in your cabernet sauvignon? Do you appreciate the green bell pepper flavors you can find in Loire cabernet franc? I sure do. Such qualities are rightly damned when they reflect underripe grapes or the dilution caused by overly high yields, but in the right proportions these characteristics can be interesting, worthy, and true.

I look for a hint of vegetables in my Loire cabernet franc, and I find them in the 2006 Filliatreau Saumur-Champigny La Grande Vignolle. This wine, which comes from the eponymous vineyard that's romantically sited between the Loire River and chalk cliffs into which houses have been carved, tees off with aromas of sweet smoke, roasted meat, ground pepper, purple flowers, green olive, and tart red fruits. Fabulous. As it's a bit on the dark side I wasn't surprised that the fruit is fairly concentrated, though not overextracted, and that the tannins are still a bit aggressive. In other words, it's got some oomph, but I expect that it'll be deeper and silkier in a year or two (good Loire cabernet franc needs at least three years to unfurl its flag). Finally, it has very nice acidity, a healthy dose of minerals, and of course the vegetable flavors — particularly broccoli and green bell pepper — are a feature rather than a bug, as they accent the drinking experience nicely. Meat and vegetables in one wine: it's like a meal!

Whereas I look for vegetables from a Saumur-Champigny, I would not expect that vegetable flavors would be welcome in a Northern Rhône syrah, and yet in the case of the 2005 Cave de Tain L'Hermitage Vin de Pays des Collines Rhodaniennes, they are. It's varietally correct, with aromas of bramble, stems, black pepper, violets, and blackberries, but it also includes a hint of fresh, juicy, green bell pepper. These characteristics are delivered to the palate with some really nice acidity and spice. There's plenty of ripe black fruit in this barely-medium bodied wine, and a clean, rocky, bell peppery finish. I do want to emphasize that the fruit is certainly ripe; the vegetable component is subtle and it is a feature, not a bug. So while the wine is not complex, it is balanced and very satisfying.

The kicker? It's only $10. Oh wait, there's a second kicker: the alcohol level's only 12%. You can drink this on a Monday night, as I'm doing this very moment.

Pif Pif!

You do things in a certain way for long enough and the odd begins to seem normal, and vice versa. Habit and context. Ditch that SUV and eventually you'll wonder why you ever had it. Taste a fresh-picked green bean and you'll never buy canned again. Drink enough natural / "real" wine and that grocery store wine tastes downright artificial.

That said, when I tasted the 2004 Clos Roche Blanche Touraine Pif, I thought, "Dang, this sure is a strange little wine!"

Some context here. Catherine and Didier of the Loire estate Clos Roche Blanche are big stars amongst the natural winemaking set, as they not only farm organically but avoid using "organic" pesticides, rigorously pursue biodiversity in the vineyard, implement certain biodynamic practices, and avoid sulfur. All the hard work this requires means the wines should be more expensive than the mass-produced stuff, yet the wines are extremely affordable. Also, they make the wine themselves, even though they have no formal training, so they're not paying the salary of a winemaker or a consultant.

To the wine. What does this 2004 Pif taste like? Well, the first thing to know is that it's a blend of cabernet franc, the Loire's signature grape, and malbec (which is called cot in the Loire). Unlike the malbec you'll find in Argentina, the cot grown in Touraine ain't all drippy and plush, and indeed, this wine starts off on a tart note. It just needs a little air, and then it unfurls like a shoot. That's when the acidity mellows and a note of smoke from the cot emerges.

Speaking of shoots, the Pif shows broccoli, wet leaves, wet dirt, and grilled mushroom characteristics, along with high-toned cranberry and raspberry fruit. It's concentrated, with scratchy tannins, yet spry. It is, in short, a complete wine with oodles of character, and it sells for only $14.

Now for the strange thing: this didn't pair well with the dishes I tried — roasted potatoes on day one, spinach pie and lentils and rice on day two. I thought for sure the earthiness of these dishes would work well, but the wine turned into a wallflower on both occasions. So if someone has a better pairing suggestion, I'm all eyes!

Am I compaining? Hardly. Not only is the Pif a good wine, it is a real wine, and I've had nothing quite like it. It's not a fake wine posing as real. As if to illustrate the difference, I was sipping the Pif tonight when a new McDonald's commercial came on my TV, advertising chicken for breakfast with the tag line of something like, "Isn't it great to be counterculture?" You betcha! Go tell it on the mountain, daddy-o!

Grilled Lamb, Aged Chinon, and Sancerre Rose

Happy Memorial Day, everyone. Last night I had a few friends over for grilled meats, wine, and conversation. Before the sun went down and the conversation turned (even more) bawdy, I popped open the 2006 Pascal et Nicolas Reverdy Terre de Maimbray Sancerre, which is a rosé made solely from pinot noir. Last summer this was terrifically tart and even showed sharp, flinty grapefruit a la sauvignon blanc; it was obvious it needed time. Now, it's showing very well. The acidity is still prominent but it's not nearly so aggressive as it was last year, as it's been stitched into the beautiful strawberry nose and palate. It's clean but it has suggestions of complexity, thanks to the minerally finish that dances on the tongue. Nice to see how some rosés not named Heredia can really gain from some time, and it went really well with the earthy wontons (chives, eggplant, porcini) I fried up as an appetizer.

Thanks to the Storyteller Wine Co. I was able to snag a few bottles of the 1996 Jean-Maurice Raffault Chinon Clos d’Isoré, which comes from vines that are over 70 years old. Twelve years from harvest, this is irrepressibly fresh and impeccably balanced, and it was just so good with the grilled Provencal lamb and roasted peppers. It strikes high but savory notes on the nose, particularly cherry, salt, pepper, and a hint of meat. Spicy yet subtle tobacco flavors join the above, and the acidity here is incredibly refreshing. It's not one of your lighter Chinons, and the substantial and well-integrated tannins make their presence known on the midpalate, but what really makes the whole package work is the long minerality — something for which the Clos d'Isoré is known, or so we are told. Given this wine's structure and verve, I would expect it to further deepen with another five years or more.

For WBW #44, French Cabernet Franc

Kudos to Gary Vaynerchuk for selecting French Cabernet Franc for Wine Blogging Wednesday #44. I say kudos since these wines can be tinny to many (taste) buds and it's my hope that these quintessential bistro wines earn more of the respect they deserve.

France's Loire Valley is known more for its whites — Vouvray, Sancerre, et al — than for its reds, and their white grapes thrive in the chalky tuffeaux soils that characterize this region. But in some places the soils are so limey they promote chlorosis, so it becomes desirable to grow red grapes such as... Cabernet Franc. And these red wines are, if known at all, known for their freshness, their acidity, and their frequent vegetal expressions; hence their apparent tinniness to many palates.

Myself, I like Loire Cabernet Francs as a rule. The flip side of that rule is that I can find them more intellectually interesting than emotionally engaging. The interplay of green olive, tobacco, and cherry is undeniably fascinating, but not always lovable. Yet as I have fallen madly in love with a Loire red or two, I seek others to fall for. For this event I tasted two — one from Saumur, one from Saumur Champigny — and opened my heart.

Thierry Germain Saumur Champigny 2005
Germain is the well-regarded owner of Domaine Roches Neuves but this is a negoce bottling, made "for" Theirry Germain Sélection (49). This wine is not as tobaccoey (is that a word?) as Germain's Roches Neuves bottling but is likewise an extracted, concentrated, but still terroir-specific Saumur Champigny. The black cherry is both thick and slightly tart, the acidity is in your face, and there's a dark mineral undertow that casts an almost sinister shade behind the bright, happy fruit. I imagine this would be terrific with almost anything this side of a shellfish. In short, it justifies itself as a good bistro wine, particularly at $16.

Domaine de Château Gaillard Saumur 2004
This is a phenomenal, ageworthy wine. Now, the Saumur appellation is less esteemed than its neighbors: supposedly meaner than Saumur Champigny, less structured than Bourgueil, and less refined than Chinon, which The World Atlas of Wine says "makes the silkiest, most tender wine of the [middle Loire] district." Yet this wine encapsulates all that is good about those regions: it's refreshing, structured, and refined.

The nose here is totally intriguing. It's softly meaty, something between cold flank steak and blood sausage, accompanied by sweet green herbs such as tarragon. Likewise, it's softer and more herb-sweet in the mouth than your typical sharp-cherry-and-tobacco Loire Cab Franc; and yet it also displays that typicity as well. With air, the tannins start lashing the tongue. I've never had a Loire red quite like it!

On day two this becomes a bit more typically Loire-ish — the meaty aromas have faded, chalky sweet cherry-n-tobacco aromas take the fore, the tannins have melted a bit without sacrificing structure — but it's still elegant and delicious. The minerality is a touch salty, the ripe tannins hint at sweetness, the acidity is cut like a swimmer's body.

Why is this wine so balanced? Maybe it's because of Mattieu Bouchet's Demeter-certified biodynamic farming. Maybe it's because many of the vines are over 80 years old. Maybe it's because the wine sees no new oak. All three and more, I'd wager; and I'd certainly wager the $17 I paid for this. Absurd.

Buddha In the Loire

Writers often describe wines as beautiful or deep. The following two wines may be that, but to me, they more specifically embody wisdom and enlightenment. It's no surprise to me, anyway, that both come from the Loire and are imported by Louis/Dressner.

François Pinon Cuvée Tradition Vouvray 2006
Can François Pinon do any wrong? 2006 was a difficult vintage in the Loire — warm rain plagued the region beginning in mid-August and abundant grey rot tested nerves — but Pinon's organically-grown, naturally-vinified, lees-aged Cuvée Tradition is practically the equal of his 2005 and 2004 releases. It may not be quite as full and creamy as those vintages, not so reubenesque yet sleek, but it's equally fresh and clean. And while I don't get figs from this vintage, this vin tendre (tender wine — between off-dry and bone-dry) has the telltale Chenin Blanc note of honeydew and a zippy, clean spice on the finish. Pinon proves as much as anyone that a good producer, an intelligent and wise and opportunistic producer, can usher excellence through less-than-excellent conditions.

Bernard Baudry Les Grezeaux Chinon 2003
Loire reds usually hit me on an intellectual rather than atavistic level. They may say interesting things, but soon enough I'm thinking about picking up cat food.

Baudry's Les Grezeaux says the right things. It's hand-harvested at 40 hl/ha, fermented in cement, and aged in used rather than new barriques. On the first day, the complimentary aromas of black olive, black currant jelly and asparagus were well-integrated and the flavors were simultaneously concentrated and light and pure (the 12.5% abv is remarkably low for such a hot vintage). The acidity was robust and the tannins were gripping but very smooth, and the clean, minerally finish brought to mind well-filtered glacier water. All these compliments said, I admired it rather than loved it.

On day three, though, I was felled by a love bomb. In the first place, all those distinct aromas had stitched together more completely and a soft sandalwood note emerged. Second, the flavors, minerality, and acidity were likewise better integrated. Most impressive to my pleasure center, the mouthfeel became smoother, richer, almost velvety, without compromising the structure or the fresh, clean finish. The net effect is that this wine is completely itself. It rubs my third eye; and if I haven't quite seen Nirvana, Baudry's Cabernet Franc amply demonstrates its good karma.