Another Cannonau From Sardinia

Pinot noir is frequently described as a "difficult" grape. That makes sense — it's literally thin-skinned, fussy in the vineyard, and requires the right conditions (and guiding hand) to yield a wine that's simultaneously deep and graceful. Grenache is never described as difficult, but in its own way it strikes me as just that. Grenache may grow easily and be found at a variety of latitudes in warm climates around the world, but it too requires the right conditions (and guiding hand) to yield a wine that's simultaneously deep, graceful, and transparent. I mean, not everyone in the Rhône is Château Rayas, right?

Grenache — called garnacha in Spain and cannonau in Sardinia — is typically a juicy grape, and a lot of times this means the fruit will be very forward, plush, simple, and often blowsy. So it's often blended with other grapes to provide acidity, lift, depth, and additional interest. But as Rayas proves, grenache can have all these things on its own if all the conditions are right.

I'm not going to tell you that the $17 2007 Ambito Cannonau di Sardegna produced by the Cantina Sociale della Vernaccia has the depth or grace of a $100+ bottle of Rayas Chateauneuf-du-Pape, but I will tell you that this wine, as with the (only) other Sardinian cannonau I have tried, is plenty more transparent than your typical bottle of varietal grenache. Heck, I reckon that even noted grenache-hater Lyle Fass would appreciate this. Yep, it's juicy and imbued with dark, slightly-baked fruit, but it's neither plush nor blowsy. Instead, it's restrained by a strong undertow of juicy anise, bitter pith, wild herbs, and firm, dry earth. It'd be great if it was more structured, but it definitely features a nice slap of acidity.

My attempts to learn more about this wine have been frustrated. The producer's web site mentions nothing about the Ambito and US importer Selected Estates has zip on any of the producer's wines. So I've no idea how the grapes were raised or if this was aged in tank, concrete, and/or oak (although obviously not much of the latter, if any). What I can tell you is that it was terrific with a cashew and herb-laden pasta and I'm pretty sure it would be even better with lamb.

Difficult, But Surprising

I hit Avec with a few friends last Friday night and spotted a wine from Bea I'd never heard of before: the 2002 Rosso de Véo. I immediately made a few assumptions. First, I assumed that the 2002 vintage in Umbria was less than optimal, as I knew was the case in the Piedmont, the Southern Rhône, and in many other European regions south of the 47th parallel. Next, I assumed that as it was bottled as a rosso, it would be a sangiovese-driven wine. Third, I assumed that since this was a Bea, it would be well worth drinking no matter the vintage or the exact composition.

Well, two out of three ain't bad. As it turns out, the vintage was indeed terrible, plagued with rain and hail, which the Beas dealt with by salvaging the grapes they could salvage and bottling the entire output as a declassified vino da tavola rather than producing their typical range of DOCG and DOC wines. So sagrantino is in the driver's seat here, augmented by montepulciano and sangiovese. But I didn't guess that on Friday, as it lacked the muscular tannins and assertive black pepper character typical of sagrantino.

Which is not to say the wine itself was lacking. The Beas themselves describe the vintage as "difficile, ma sorprendente," and had I known beforehand all they had to go through to produce this wine, I would have said the same thing, because I thought this wine was glorious, with a depth you don't expect from rain-diluted grapes. The structure here comes more from acidity than tannins, but what lovely acidity to frame the cherry fruit and slightly meaty notes. With its generosity and its silky, lithe body, the wine was effortless with our food, from the house-made sausages to the pan-roasted salmon to the snail polenta. The entire experience seemed effortless and generous, thanks to the hard work in both the kitchen and in the winery.

The Beas' achievement here is all the more remarkable as they did not (and never do) add sulfur, yeast, stabilizers, or external enhancers of any kind. They work hard and do not believe in shortcuts. The results speak for themselves. I am normally loathe to purchase $50+ wine at retail, let alone stock up on several bottles for the long-term, but with the Beas making a deeper and deeper impression upon me, I now know what I need to do.

Drinking Subzero

With the wind chill making it feel like -3 Fahrenheit, is there any better time to be drinking Muscadet? Well, it's what I've been drinking the last few nights — specifically, Henri Poiron's 2008 Domaine des Quatres Routes Sèvre-et-Maine. The only background info I've found on this wine comes from Jim's Loire, and then only that this domaine (of the two that are Poiron's) is sited on schist, a bit unusual for this granite-dominated appellation.

When I first opened it I thought it a dead ringer for a Chablis, but soon enough the seashell characteristics turned into the more quintessentially Muscadet characteristics of lemon and salty rocks. It shows good concentration and weight, and for all its clean, acidic snap it's a pleasantly warming wine, just the ticket for an absurd cold snap.

The First 2008 Pinots From Oregon

Last year I speculated that 2008 could be an interesting vintage in the Willamette Valley, as the long-range forecast called for a cool and dry summer. It turned out to be just that. In fact, winemakers were concerned that the delayed budbreak and the cool conditions combined would not allow the grapes to ripen properly, particularly if rain hit during harvest.

Not only was there no rain at harvest, but Indian Summer conditions allowed the grapes to ripen evenly and well. Winemakers were ecstatic about the potential quality.

I've now tasted two 2008 Willamette Valley pinots — both of them, coincidentally, made from certified biodynamically grown grapes — and things are indeed looking good, especially as the acids in both these wines are particularly nice. Montinore Estate aims for translucent purity, and if their 2007 was too light and tart, thanks to that challenging and wet vintage, their 2008 Estate Pinot Noir is just right. It's fresh and lively, with really nice acidity, nifty cherry fruit, and a light sprinkling of earth. I dig its vibe. It should deepen over the next year but it's fine to drink now. And at $19 a bottle, I like it even more! (Sidenote: these guys also make an excellent and quite dry gewurtztraminer.)

The 2008 Select Pinot Noir from Brick House Vineyards is really impressive, if painfully young — it's prickly, almost carbonic at first, and this will require some time to settle down. As with the Montinore, I'm really impressed by the quality of the acidity, as it's strong and robust but not brittle or thin. There's good depth to the fruit, and that red Ribbon Ridge earthiness is screamingly pure. I know that "elegant" is one of the most overused words in the wine world, but I can't think of a better one to sum things up. Give it some time so it can let it all hang out. (Sidenote: these guys also make a terrific gamay.)

My Decanter (or, Anticipation)

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. I'm hosting a gaggle of people and I've been merrily planning and cooking for the last several days. For example, I've already made the broth for the mushroom risotto, baked the Indian sweet potato pastry spirals, cooked the fiery sweet potatoes which I'll broil right before the meal, and made the Indian-spiced bean and vegetable salad. Later today, I'll make another vegetable salad (daikon, carrot, and green bean, blanched and julienned and dressed with a soy-based sauce), squash stuffed with bacon and apple, and tofurkey. Hey, I like tofurkey!

While these dishes may not sound traditionally Thanksgiving-ish, they are earthy much like the more traditional fare. So I still need to serve earthy, medium-bodied wines, just as I would for a more obviously traditional feast.

To that end, I've lined up the gorgeous 2002 Dirler Schimberg Pinot Gris, the elegant 2005 J.K. Carriere Willamette Valley Pinot Noir, and for those who want a more full-fruited red wine, the 2006 Domaine Gayda Chemin de Moscou, which is a Vin de Pay d'Oc from a 200m high vineyard in the Malepere appellation north of Limoux (see Google map) that's 55% syrah, 40% grenache, and 5% cinsault. We'll actually start the meal with a shot-sized pour of Isastegi Basque cider to accompany an arugula salad, and then at the close of the meal, I'll serve the 2005 Baumard Cuvée le Paon, a botrytised Layon wine that Baumard makes in only the best vintages. (Backup wines in case of extra guests or cork taint: Carriere's 2005 Chardonnay and the lovely 2008 Tenuta delle Terre Nere Rosso from Mt. Etna.)

The Carriere pinot has great structure and acidity and I will definitely need to decant it a few hours before the meal. The Paon, however, really needs a decant — it's outrageously young and the Baumard house style is reductive — so 12 hours ago I decanted it into... an old glass coffee carafe that I salvaged from a dead coffee maker. Yep, that's my decanter. It's perfect: it's wide, easy to clean, features a pour spout that makes double decanting a snap, and was absolutely free. And it of course works. I'm happy to report that some of the Paon's cavity-inducing baby fat has been shed and it's growing deeper and more complex, with excellent acidity and those quiet and remarkable tones of bitter herbs that I love in chenin.

OK, it's time to start the last of my cooking — no time to lose! Happy Thanksgiving to all of us.

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.