Elizabeth Spencer Petite Sirah for WBW #40

Like Zinfandel, Petite Sirah is a big juicy grape that thrives in a hot climate. But whereas Zin is well-known in its own right, Petite Sirah — which is synonymous with the Durif grape and is not a "small" version of Syrah — is a bit more obscure. In fact, PS is typically a blending grape that frequently augments Cabernet and Zinfandel-labeled bottles, thanks to its dark color and serious dark fruit. But it shouldn't be overlooked as a varietal wine; not when 100 year old vines are found in Mendocino County.

So all y'all who do a bit of California dreaming should probably check out Petite Sirah. Myself, I do little California dreaming, since I'm no fan of the inky fruit bombs that state too frequently produces. But since Sonandora of Wannabe Wino is hosting the Petite Sirah tasting for Wine Blogging Wednesday #40, I have to spread my wings. Which is, of course, a good thing.

I sought out a more balanced, lower-alcohol PS to suit my preferences. I found one! The wine I drank for your reading pleasure is the Elizabeth Spencer Special Cuvée North Coast Petite Sirah 2005 (at a slightly frightening $32 — although I could have bought more expensive examples). Spencer sources the grapes from the Suisun Valley just east of Napa, which is reputedly cooled by nearby San Pablo Bay; and indeed, this only has 14.2% abv. It's fermented with 20% whole clusters — a good sign for me, since I like a spicy red wine — and aged for 20 months in French oak.

Here are my notes, spanning three days.

Day 1: Inky, concentrated purple. Smells strongly of blackberries and spices, tastes strongly of blackberries and spices. Rich yet balanced, with good supporting acidity and modest tannins. It's not too sweet and the length is decent, and it's fine paired with vegetable soup and a buttery onion tart. But it has no complexity.

Day 2: Everything's fading — the fruit, the spice, the inky concentration — and nothing subtle has emerged. It's simply a shrunken version of its previous self.

Day 3: It's recovered its concentration somewhat, and it strikes me as more tannic today. The spice is elevated slightly compared to the fruit, which is now more like blackberry and blueberry compote. But it's no more interesting for it.

Honestly, I approached this wine with an open mind, but even this well-made, balanced example of Petite Sirah did not touch me in my special places — unlike a couple of $12 European reds I've recently put in my mouth (more about these in my next post). Objectively speaking, though, this is a good selection for people who like inky but reasonably food-friendly wines. My advice for those who like this style is to buy the Elizabeth Spencer with confidence and to drink it young.

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.

Scoring The Hermit Crab

Last night I went to Wine Library TV for the first time. I'd heard this online show was entertaining but, as with all things, I was skeptical. Somehow my first hit was on a show about points, and there Gary was, decrying mindless point-chasing with charm, verve, and passion.

"I'm here to say that wine ratings are straight garbage," he says. "To make your decision based [solely] on that is a monumental mistake." To further that, uh, point, I'll add that Robert Parker didn't grab power in some shirt-staining coup. He was handed that power. If you're just dipping your toe into the wine lake, points can help you learn what you do and don't like and gauge your taste. And personally, I enjoy scoring wines in the privacy of my home because, as Gary says, it's fun. But point-chasing is just lazy.

Anyhooters, Gary's review of the 2005 d'Arenberg The Hermit Crab McLaren Vale caught my attention, not least because he praised this Viognier-Marsanne blend's balance and lack of heat. I rarely buy South Australian wines, having been burned one too many times by hot, sugary, confected monstrosities, and the McLaren Vale is one of the hottest regions of them all. But what the hell, I thought, and so I picked up the 2006 release.

I gotta give it to him, The Hermit Crab ($16) is fresh, refreshing, and balanced. Full aromas of warm pears, ripe apricots, and petrol infuse the nose without obsequiousness or undue pungency. It's both creamy and refreshing in the mouth, and the slight zing of ginger and light minerals carries through on a long finish. It conveys presence rather than heaviness, and at 13.5% abv, you could pair this with anything this side of a bivalve.

I give this wine two thumbs up!

A Varietal Counoise

Now here's something different — varietal Counoise. If used at all, Counoise is apt to play a walk-on role in Châteauneuf-du-Pape, but here it stars in the one-grape revue Domaine Monpertuis Vignoble de la Ramiere Cuvée Counoise Vin de Pays du Gard 2004.

Um, that's a mouthful, but then, so is this light bodied wine. I really like it — it has a pronounced pepper-and-herb nose, bright red fruits of pomegranate and cherry and cranberry, stones, and an acidity that grabs the tongue in a bony bear hug. Shy and retiring it's not, but this is a food wine with lift: it goes really well with modestly spiced lamb shawarma, and I'd also pair this with rosemary chicken, steamed broccoli dressed in salt and pepper and olive oil, or any number of lighter Mediterranean dishes.

At $13, it's a good choice not just for Monday night but for most any night, such as Thanksgiving. With its food-friendly lift and bright, peppery character, I'm a bit mystified why Counoise is not more broadly grown in the Rhône and the Languedoc, if nothing else but to add a kick to some of the bigger, richer wines. Its scarcity is odder to me than drinking varietal Counoise!

Thanksgiving Wine Plan

I'm a geek, so I get quietly if palpably excited by considering wine options for get-togethers — and Thanksgiving is a Big Daddy of the wine year.

Now, I'm still not sure where or with whom I'll be, which complicates matters, but the debut of the J. K. Carriere Willamette Valley Chardonnay, vintage 2005, is assured a place at my table in any case.

J. K. Carriere has always pushed the line that they're a Pinot-only producer — and fantastic Pinots they are — but it seems that winemaker Jim Prosser plotted the release of this Chardonnay some time ago. The grapes are sourced from the cool, organically- and dry-farmed Temperance Hill vineyard in the Eola Hills. What makes the release particularly exciting is that it is "built in an old-world style... [it's] made for food and exhibits a dominance of savory and mineral over fruit.... [with] high acid and no obvious oak."

Could a white wine, and an American white at that, be more perfectly modeled for Thanksgiving dinner? I will find out in four days.

Binge and Purge

I'm 100% fifty-fifty that I'm going to eat until I have a fat attack this Thanksgiving. That's why I welcome the Brenda Dickson calorie purge plan. Welcome to her home!

(Warning: not appropriate for the office or for tender sensibilities.)