Is Xinomavro a Blue Cheer Cover Band?

For its name, which translates to "acid black," you'd be forgiven for thinking that xinomavro is a Blue Cheer cover band. It is, rather, a red Greek grape that is said to resemble both pinot noir and nebbiolo. As I drink the one xinomavro I have ever had, the 2005 Xinomavro Naoussa from Katogi & Strofilia, I get the comparison. The sweet tannins, nutmeg-suggestive aromas, and soft earthiness of this pale colored wine remind me of cool-climate Valle d'Aosta from the upper left corner of Italy, but with more stuffing. Its firm, acid-driven structure also made me think of a gentler take on young Langhe nebbiolo.

I'm not your xinomavro go-to guy; I simply lack the background. I can tell you, however, that I want to learn more. I can tell you that this wine comes from the Naoussa region in northwestern Macedonia (Google terrain map here), a Continental climate region that allows xinomavro exclusively. I can tell you that Palate Press published a good Markus Stoltz article last year and that John Szabo's article in All About Greek Wine is particularly fascinating, as Szabo compares xinomavro's anthocyanin and polyphenol counts relative to nebbiolo.

If xinomavro is always (?) put in oak, these articles and my palate both tell me that Katogi might sand down the grape's rougher edges more than they might have to, and that I should find a more complex, terroir-expressive wine in the better bottles. But it's a good introduction to xinomavro and I like the wine's energy.

Fushitsusha is not a Blue Cheer cover band, either, but I suspect that if some godless god threw Blue Cheer into a black hole, they'd be the result. For those who can stand them, this Japanese band produced a fistful of masterpieces in the 80s and 90s; this is but a taste, and their dense, crushing energy is nearly the opposite of what you'll find in the xinomavros of Greece.

Dinner at Taxim

Work's been pretty stressful lately, so I decided to treat myself to a dinner at Taxim. Rustic, ageless cuisine pulled into the 21st century by a young guy who visited every corner of Greece to understand the old ways? I was intrigued, and I hoped that Taxim's anti-orthodox (lower case o) sensibility would help pull me away from the chaos.

My hopes were fulfilled. The food was, in fact, pretty damn great. Well, the roasted peppers (piperies) were sweet and spicy and little more, but the other plates had a lot more going on. For example, the baba ghanouj-like melitzanosalata had more complexity and balance than I've experienced from any baba; its creamy earthy depth was very fulfilling. And while we've all had spinach pies, the prassopita, which featured wild leek, fresh dill, and garlic encased in an incredibly flaky phyllo dough, again provided a lot of depth. But the crowning (small) dish was the koukia me kavourma, fresh fava beans tossed with lamb confit and house-made (!) yogurt. I was tempted to order a year's supply. The balance between the sweet, the tart, and the savory flavors was fantastic.

I accompanied my meal with two glasses of wine. The first, the 2008 Zoe rosé from Domaine Skouras, was fresh and vibrant, an excellent pairing with all the dishes. Served cold, I mostly tasted sweet strawberry and raspberry fruit at first, but it gained depth as it warmed, and it took on more savory, herbal, and tart notes. It's a blend of agiorgitiko (St. George) and moscofilero. Less successful was Domaine Karydas's 2005 xinomavro from the Naoussa appellation west of Thessaloniki. My server (who was otherwise great) erroneously compared it to a pinot noir, but in fact it was more like a dull, overextracted Montepulciano d'Abruzzo. Perhaps the bottle had been open too long, as both a quick search of the internets and a look-see in the Wine Atlas suggests this should be better. The Wine Atlas even says that well-made xinomavro "can acquire a bouquet as haunting as all but the finest Barolo."

Maybe next time. In any case, I will always have my koukia me kavourma.