Three Exuberant $12 Reds!

I don't care what Brooklynguy says! I'm going to use exclamation points!! Because these are exuberant wines!!!

No, really — when I consume wines like the ones here, I envision cartoon exclamation points circling my head. To me, "exuberant" wines shower the mouth with spices and herbs. They're joyous rather than serious. Exuberant wines are full of life, carefree and vivacious, but not shallow — rather, they're engaging in ways that many serious wines are not (sometimes you feel like a nut; sometimes you don't). I don't think anyone's confused What's Opera, Doc? with Wagner — but isn't What's Opera, Doc? genius in its own right?

I've tasted the following wines over the last month or so.

Zantho Zweigelt Burgenland 2006
This Austrian red may be the most exuberant-ish-ist of them all, for this is one of the most extroverted, joyful little wines I have tasted. It bursts with pomegranate and raspberry fruit and it sings with strong notes of briar and pepper. Interestingly, I haven't been taken with the other Zantho releases I've tried (a St. Laurent and a Muskat), but this one makes me laugh.

Guilhem Durand Vieilles Vignes Syrah Vin de Pays d'Hauterive 2004
This is a really lovely Syrah from the Languedoc that overdelivers at its price point. Its rocky nose drives cool blueberry, sweet black cherry and a hint of cinnamoned green apple upward while a bit of blackberry and dried cherry join the above in the mouth. The acidity is proud but unobtrusive and the tannins are modest and the finish is long and stony and even a bit spicy; it reminds me of a nice Barbera. Refreshing, balanced and lovely.

Château Tour Boisée Minervois Cuvée Marielle et Frédérique 2004
This is the most profound of the three wines here, and I've consumed three bottles of this in the last 4 months to my total delight. It smells utterly purple: lavender and blueberry and plum. There's underbrush here, too. Briar. Thyme. Marjoram. Solid tannins and sweet blueberry fruit, with refreshing acidity and a nice long finish of herbs and blackberry. Spicy, rich, and balanced. Hurrah! This is, strikingly, dominated by Cinsault — it's 35% Cinsault, 25% Grenache, 15% each Syrah and Carignan, and 10% Mourvèdre. It was aged for 8 months in concrete vat — no oak! I can't recall a better $12 red.

Grilled Lamb, Mencía, and Asirtiko

It's cold something horrible roundabouts here, so why not grill some meat. Yes, that's right, barbecue! In the dead zone of winter! Two nights running, no less. And since I weigh a mere 140 with a jacket on, I decided to pig out and grill four rack lamb chops, though two would have sufficed.

Ah, but what to serve with the lamb? I narrowed my choice to either the 1999 La Rioja Alta Viña Ardanza Reserva or the 2003 Descendientes de J. Palacios Bierzo Corullón. Since I'd had the former previously (it is a fantastic, traditionally-made Rioja, deep and pure), I opted for the Palacios, which comes from the Galician region of Bierzo.

Now, I had the 1999 Palacios Bierzo roughly six months ago but I found that vintage lacking in fruit. Completely. As in all stone. I don't know if it was dead or simply shut down, but it didn't improve over the course of five days. So I figured the 2003 would be younger, fresher, less of a risk.

I was right — it is fresher, it does have more fruit. The problem is, it's overoaked. Wines made from Mencía should be deep but sharp, not unlike a Loire Cabernet Franc, but here the oak has muted the unique Mencía voice to a melodious but blunt pidgin Spanish. It tastes like it could be a Ribera del Duero, or even a Malbec from Argentina. This was even more apparent when paired with the simply grilled lamb, for neither were elevated. And given the amazing terroir from whence these grapes sprung — awesomely steep schist hillsides that can only be tilled by mule — it's a total shame.

For no want of oak I much prefer the younger and cheaper Descendientes de J. Palacios Petalos Bierzo — it's modestly oaked and it's deep, smoky, spicy, and very sexy. Fact is, I wish I had a half case of the 2005 handy right now!

Now, what I haven't told you yet is that on both nights I started with an aperitif of the 2006 Sigalas Asirtiko Athiri Santorini. I only wish I had a slab of grilled fish with which to pair it; for this, my friends, is a stunning wine, and it equals if not exceeds the beautiful 2005 vintage.

Asirtiko (also spelled Assyrtiko) and Athiri are grapes that grow only in Greece and mainly on Santorini, the bushes clumped low on the ground to survive the fierce winds. You can tell this is no ordinary wine when the crisp, sweet aromas of spearmint, clover, chamomile, and apple leap from the glass. It smells almost like a cross between Viognier and Riesling. But rather than sweet or full, this ultra-dry and unoaked white, flecked with peach flavors, is marked by a profound and zesty saltiness that's not the least bit overbearing. It's like a perfect Muscadet, only more so. It's also flawless — it remains tasty, pure, and long even as it warms to room temperature.

So... Who wants to guess which wine I'll be buying again?

Pickle Surprise!

I don't even want to think about which wine goes with this dish!

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!