October 2, 2019

Review: Tenuta Santomé Raboso Riserva 2011

Grape(s): Raboso Piave

Region: Veneto, Italy

Winery: Tenuta Santomé

Style: Full-bodied, aged, red

Tasting Notes: Bourbon soaked cherry, leather, tobacco, fig, date, toffee, caramel

Pairing Suggestions: This is a wine you want to be at the center of your gathering, not competing for attention against an expensive steak, although they would pair nicely. For me, I’d serve this with a nice big charcuterie and cheese board, something that will provoke thought and conversation around the wine, which should enhance everyone’s enjoyment.

TL/DR: It tastes like Ron Burgundy’s apartment.

I haven’t really updated much in the past couple of months and, yeah, I’ve been busy at work, but the truth is I was kind of burning out on the whole blogging thing. For the most of the past year I’ve really been pushing myself in my free time to try new wines and write about them, but, let’s face it, not every wine is really so remarkable that I can spend a couple hours contemplating it and finding something meaningful to say. I didn’t like the idea that I was posting content just to post content.

It’s important to have a drive to constantly create, but if what you’re creating isn’t good, what’s the point? I wanted to be inspired, to remember what it was about wine that made me love it in the first place.

By chance, one of our reps was touring through the city with an Italian winemaker, showing him around and tasting out his wines. I wasn’t initially in the meeting, but was called in toward the end to try a few things. My interest was low, we weren’t really looking for new wines at that moment, but I was polite and tried what was offered. None of it was bad, but our selection is small and we just didn’t need a new Chardonnay or Pinot Grigio. Finally I was handed a glass made from a local grape, something I’d never heard of before, exactly the kind of thing I’m usually scouring the city to find, my interest was suddenly piqued.

The wine was Tenuta Santomé Raboso Riserva 2011. Raboso, in this case, refers to Raboso Piave, a notoriously astringent grape that has a reputation for being difficult to work with. When consumed young, wines produced from this grape are aggressively tannic, which helps to explain the name, Raboso, which literally means “angry” or “pissed off.” Like many angry youths, Raboso mellows as it matures to become more sophisticated and complex in it’s later years.

In this case the wine is developed in batches, spending the first 3 years in barrel, some maturing in French oak and others in Chestnut, before being blended together and aged in bottle for a further 2 years. The winemaker considers the it ready for consumption after 5 years and releases it for sale.

It’s rare to have the opportunity to drink aged wine in today’s market, unless you’re willing to invest time or spend some money. Every bottle of wine comes with some risk (cork taint, oxidation, etc), but the more money you spend, the greater the risk involved. This is one of the most exciting things about Tenuta Santomé’s wine for me, the producer has taken the lion’s share of the risk in creating this magnificent wine by aging it before release, all we have to do is enjoy it.

As wine ages it loses those bright fruit flavors to develop more rich flavors like toffee, tobacco, mahogany, leather-bound books, bourbon-soaked cherry; basically it tastes like Ron Burgundy’s apartment. If you’ve never had the opportunity to experience an aged wine, this is one worth seeking out.

As I said before, we weren’t looking for a wine when the winemaker came to visit, there really wasn’t even room on our list, but when you stumble across a wine like this, you don’t let it escape. We made room.

I don’t like buying the same bottle twice; once I’ve tried something I like to move on and look for new things, but there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t consider taking a bottle of this home. For me, it represents everything good about wine; it’s the reason we place importance on it, why we drink it. This is a wine Bacchus would have served at one of those ancient Roman rave/ orgies. It’s also a metaphor for life, showing us that the fire of youth can become something greater with age, and a reminder that we should seize the opportunity to enjoy what we have while we have it.

Review
September 17, 2019

Review: Koehler-Ruprecht Pinot Noir Rosé Kabinett Trocken 2017

Grape(s): Pinor Noir

Region: Pfalz, Germany

Winery: Koehler-Ruprecht

Style: Dry rosé

Tasting Notes: Raspberry, wet leaves, forest floor, earth; funky fresh.

Pairing Suggestions: If you’re outside and eating food, this is a good choice. Chicago Style Hot Dog, salads, spice-rubbed meats, hot wings, charcuterie, grilled fish, sushi.

TL/DR: Holy shit, I’m actually impressed with a rosé!

In many ways, I see rosé as the Chris Farley or John Belushi of wine. It is forever in a state of arrested development, always up for a good time, the life of every party, the perfect travel companion for street festivals, concerts, and bad decisions, but it’s not exactly the kind of wine that makes you want to settle down and start a cellar. Oh no! For that, you know you’re going to need a more stable red or white, willing to go the distance, because deep inside we all know that if we keep hanging out with rosé we’re eventually going to find it slumped in the corner with a needle hanging out of it’s arm after one speedball too many.

While I recognize not every rosé is the same, they do all kind of taste the same. After the first couple of sips you realize the color is a lie and it’s not what your brain expected it to be, but it has enough acidity to be refreshing and it tastes vaguely fruity, what’s to hate? So, you go ahead and drink it anyway. Look, I’m not trying to make anyone feel guilty; I’ve never met a rosé I wasn’t willing to drink, but I’ve also never really been impressed by one… until now.

Koehler-Ruprecht Pinot Noir Rosé Kabinett Trocken 2017 is the only rosé I’ve ever been impressed with. That may sound hyperbolic, but I promise you I’m not exaggerating. If you’ve heard me talk positively about a rosé in the past, I was just trying to be nice. This is the real deal and, if you know me, it kind of makes sense, because this is about as untraditional as a rosé can be.

Firstly, it’s German, which I didn’t even know was a thing. Doesn’t rosé usually come from Provence or California? Maybe I just don’t spend enough time in the rosé aisle of the store, but Germany is not a country I associate with this style of wine. That’s one of the things attracted my attention.

I first encountered this wine at an industry tasting with a friend, before we had even walked through the door there was buzz around this strange German rosé. We made it a point to seek it out and after tasting it, we just looked at each other in astonishment.

That’s the second thing, the taste. For me, Pinot Noir either tastes very fruity or very earthy, the best Pinot wines usually display a combination of both. I’ve also noticed that the heavier a Pinot is, the more likely it is to showcase earthy flavors. This is a medium bodied rosé that is driven by the earthy flavor profile, with very subtle hints of fruit. So, the winemaker was not only able to achieve a nice balance of flavor from the Pinot Noir grapes, but they were also able to present that as a truly unique expression of rosé.

Absolutely masterful.

Unfortunately, this wine is going to be a rare find. We ordered as much as we could get our hands on at work, and blew through those few cases very quickly before the vintage was sold out. The 2018 vintage is still a very nice rosé, but I was not as impressed with it. Perhaps a little more time in the bottle will allow it to develop, with a limited stock available to us, I doubt it will be on our shelves long enough for me to find out.

I guess the lesson here is not to let your bias steer you away from trying things you think you don’t like or, if you do, simply accept the fact you may miss out on something amazing.

Review
June 20, 2019

Review: Asconi Special Collection Old Tavern Liquor Red Wine

Grape(s): “Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and other varieties of red types of grapes”

Region: Codru, Moldova

Winery: Asconi

Style: At 16% alcohol, I suspect this was fortified in some way (yeast usually dies around 15%). It’s listed in several places as a dessert wine, though the label refers to it as a “liquor red wine.”

Tasting Notes: Weak structure, unbalanced, simple, low tannin, low acid, overly sweet, red fruit flavors.

Pairing Suggestions: Suitable for making Gluhwein or Sangria, but not really a wine that I felt could be improved by food.

TL/DR: “… it’s fucking terrible.”

I’d like to tell you this is the first time I’ve bought a bottle of wine that looks like a tree, but that would be a lie. A wiser man would have learned from the first experience, he would have remembered why it’s better to not drink wine from strange bottles. Hell, at the very least, a wiser man would have encouraged caution. I am not that man. Oh no! When I see that beat up van with missing hubcaps and the words “free wine” hastily painted down the side, I open the door, and climb right in. Regardless of how pretentious I may seem, sometimes I’m little more than a thirsty Philistine.

This free-spirited attitude usually works out in my favor, most of the strange wines I’ve encountered were positive experiences. I mean, it’s one of the reasons I started this blog. However, I recognize not everyone will agree with my opinions and I never want to make someone feel wrong for hating a wine I liked or liking a wine I didn’t. After all, society is a grand tapestry of clashing ideas, a beautiful mosaic of diverse perspectives that should be nurtured and cherished. That being said, this wine… it’s fucking terrible.

Okay, maybe that’s a little harsh and to be fair, I’m not the biggest fan of dessert reds. It’s the one style of wine popular in Eastern Europe that I’ve never been able to appreciate.

Made from “Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and other varieties of red types of grapes” this “liquor red wine” comes to us from Asconi winery in the Codru region of Moldova. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that one of the strangest wine bottles I’ve ever seen has some of the oddest descriptions.

There are two ways I assess quality. The first way is keeping in line with how I was trained, taste the wine, break down the structural components, look for complexity and diversity in flavor. Sweet wines require high levels of acidity to balance out the excess sugar, in this case the acidity was lacking, unbalancing the wine. It was sweet, but not refreshing. Think of it as the difference between drinking soda vs. soda syrup, one is light and refreshing the other not so much.

The second method is more straight-forward: did I enjoy it? I think I’ve made it pretty clear I didn’t, but to drive the point home I’ll tell you I have about 20 bottles sitting beside my couch, these are wines I’ve tasted and photographed that are waiting for me to write reviews on. Only one of those bottles has any wine left in it. In fact, there’s about 3/4 of a bottle left.

This less than stellar review might lead some to the conclusion that it’s best to avoid wines from Moldova, or Eastern Europe in general. Others might suggest that my experience is no different from any encounter with a sweet wine. I strongly disagree with both sentiments.

When someone tells me they don’t like sweet wine, I usually just assume they’re saying they don’t like cheap Moscato, which is a valid opinion. It’s usually awful for the same reasons I disliked this wine. If, however, you’re telling me you don’t like Sauternes, we probably can’t be friends. I mean, at that point what do you like? Well-done steak? Taylor Swift? The films of Uwe Boll? It’s probably better we just part ways amicably.

As far as Moldova, they make some amazing wines, this just happens to be one that didn’t impress me, and one bad experience will in no way dissuade me from trying more in the future. At least this was fun to photograph.

Review
May 21, 2019

Review: Joseph Cattin Cremant d’Alsace Brut NV

Last month I wrote a review on Muré Cremant d’Alsace, it was the final selection in our quest to find an Alsatian sparkling for the wine list at work, but it wasn’t the only one we tried. There were at least two others, Camille Braun Cremant d’Alsace, a wine we’ve carried in the past, and Joseph Cattin Cremant d’Alsace. Okay, there’s no way this won’t sound like bragging, and if I’m being honest it kind of is, but any day you have to come into work and try multiple samples of one of your favorite styles of wine, well that, my friend, is a good day.

Domaine Joseph Cattin was founded in 1720 by François Cattin, a Swiss builder who relocated to the Alsatian village of Voegtlinshoffen. The winery has been passed down through the family for 11 generations to today, where it is operated by Jacques Cattin and his wife, Anaïs. They have more than 65 ha (160ish acres) of vineyard spread across 3 sites, near the villages of Voegtlinshoffen, Steinbach, and Colmar. Also, since I’m always judging producer’s online presence, it seems worth noting that Joseph Cattin has a well-designed, user friendly, website.

The wine is a blend of hand-harvested Pinot Blanc and Auxerrois grapes. More than some of the other cremant d’Alsace I’ve had in the past, this wine had a distinct tropical flavor for me. There was also a clear evolution of flavors as the wine crossed the palate, moving from crisp and fruity to a more biscuity/ yeasty flavor that is generally associated with autolysis. These bready flavors are often cited in sparkling wines produced in the traditional method, though to be honest I rarely taste them with the same intensity they are described in tasting notes. In the case of this wine, it is just the opposite; the producer’s tasting notes make no comment on flavors associated with autolysis, though I found them more prominent here than in most Champagne I’ve encountered.

While we ultimately went with the Muré Cremant d’Alsace for our wine list, I would have happily chosen the Joseph Cattin. The goal for us was to find something reminiscent of Champagne, and we did that. Texture was an important component in our decision and the Muré Cremant d’Alsace was able to deliver a creamier mousse, which gave it the advantage. However, if our goal had been to teach to the nuances of sparkling wine, I believe Joseph Cattin would have had the advantage (at least for me) based on the structure of its flavor. If you’ve never experienced these biscuity, bready, yeasty, flavors in a wine, I’d recommend picking up a bottle.

Review
May 11, 2019

Review: Domaine Boyar Traminer 2014

A couple years ago a friend asked if I would do a wine tasting in her apartment while her father was visiting. He was both a history buff and a lover of wine, so we agreed to make the theme of the tasting Ancient Wines. She gave me a budget and I did some reading to figure out what to serve. Finding ancient grapes still in use today was harder than I thought it was going to be, so instead I focused on old winemaking techniques and regions that have a long history of wine production.

In retrospect, it wasn’t a bad lineup, especially for someone as new to wine as I was, but I couldn’t help being surprised at how young so many of the wine grapes we use are. I mean, wine is prehistoric and is prominent feature in many of our earliest writings, we’ve been drinking the stuff for thousands of years and yet most of the grapes we use are from the past 200 years or so. We have no truly ancient grapes I’m aware of, the oldest varieties I’ve encountered usually date back to the middle ages. The oldest wine grape I was able to produce for the tasting was Riesling, which dates back to 1435. Still old, but hardly ancient.

This was probably the catalyst for my obsession with obscure grapes, the desire to find something truly ancient; I wanted to know what the Greeks and Romans from antiquity were drinking. Ever since I did this tasting, I’ve gone further and further down the rabbit hole of wine and every time I see a grape or region that has historical significance, I take notice. That’s how I stumbled across Traminer.

The earliest reference of this grape dates is back to 1242, making it among the oldest grapes we still have today. It’s directly related to Pinot, another very old grape, though we don’t know which is the parent and which is the child in this relationship. Traminer is also a parent to Sauvignon Blanc, Chenin Blanc, and a host of other grapes. Over the years it has fallen out of favor, though most wine drinkers have encountered a more fashionable mutation of Traminer, Gewürztraminer.

I was genuinely surprised when I found this bottle sitting on the shelf at Binny’s, in that weird section of the store next to the kosher wines and sweet reds from Eastern Europe. After visiting the producer’s website, it made more sense.

Domaine Boyar was established after the fall of the communist regime in Bulgaria. I love history, it’s that crucial component that gives wine a sense of romance. A winery rising from the ashes, the turbulence and strife, of a failed bureaucracy, like a phoenix? We were off to a good start, but the next lines ruined it all, they began talking about “key markets,” their “portfolios,” and other corporate bullshit. That’s when I sensed something, a presence I’ve not felt since…

Domaine Boyar is in bed with Constellation Brands. For those unfamiliar them, Constellation is a beverage giant responsible for a significant percentage of shit I don’t want to drink, Kim Crawford, Meiomi, Mondavi, Woodbridge, to name a few. It’s sort of like finding out that nice girl you just met moonlights for Emperor Palpatine. “Yeah, I started working on the Death Star while I was in college, and after I began my career I really missed the excitement of millions of voices suddenly crying out in terror and then being silenced, so now I pick up a couple shifts on the weekends. They’re like family.”

Look, I don’t want to sound pretentious. If you enjoy one of these brands, please continue, I would never want to take that away from someone. Wine is a very confusing, and often frustrating, topic. Companies like Constellation make it much easier for the average consumer to navigate.

I’m generally not a fan of how they do business. They are the charging corporate bull of Wall Street set loose in a China shop. Like any large company, their actions have far reaching consequences I often find distasteful, but at the end of the day it’s their lack of romance I really have a problem with.

Beautiful pictures of rolling vineyard hills set against corporate doublespeak about global markets and a long list of awards I’ve never heard of is about as sexy as pillow talk via a PowerPoint presentation. Sometimes you can wander so far into the echo chamber of business that you forget why people are buying what you sell, why you wanted to sell it in the first place.

All that being said, let’s be real, what were the chances of me finding a wine made from this grape in Chicago without Constellation? I can’t complain too much in this instance.

So, how was it? The wine had tropical flavors of lychee and pineapple, with hints of grapefruit. It was the kind of wine best enjoyed with shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, preferably with your feet propped up on something while sitting in the shade. If there was ever a wine that needed a tiny umbrella, this would be it. Was it complex? Not really. Sometimes that’s important for me when I’m having a wine, it wasn’t this time. Instead, it was refreshing, likable, and easy to drink. The evening was better after I opened the bottle than it was before. In the end, that’s what matters.

Review
April 24, 2019

Review: Vina Belje Graševina 2016

I walked into Augusta Food and Wine with the intention of buying a bottle of wine, instead I walked out with two. It seems like that’s what always happens to me when I shop there, not that I’m complaining. In this case I couldn’t pass on this bottle of Graševina from Croatia.

What do I know about Graševina? Nothing, I’d never even heard of it, but I’ve had some solid success with Croatian wines, mostly from the Dalmatian Coast. This bottles comes to us from Podunavlje, a river basin of the Danube on the border of Serbia and Croatia. It’s as far from the Dalmatian Coast as you can be in Croatia.

The producer, Vina Belje, trace their history back to 1697, when Prince Eugene of Savoy was awarded the land and developed it into an agricultural estate, though records indicate wine has been produced here since the 3rd century CE.

In Jancis Robinson’s book on grapes, a significant portion of the entry on Graševina deals with how it is frequently confused with Riesling. Although DNA testing reveals there is no relationship between the two grapes, Graševina is frequently named as some variation of Riesling in wine producing regions throughout Europe. Having tried it, I can kind of understand why.

Straw-green in color, with a cantaloupe rind nose, the wine was light-bodied, with high acid, flavors of green bell pepper, melon, cantaloupe, and dill. To me, it seemed an exceptionally food friendly wine that is unfairly overlooked and underappreciated, just like Riesling.

In the future I’ll have to pay more attention when I’m shopping white wines from Eastern Europe, that bottle of “Rizling” I’m passing by may in fact be Graševina, not that I’d mind in either case, but while I’ve had Riesling from Transylvania, I didn’t even know what Graševina was.

Review
April 17, 2019

Review: Muré Cremant d’Alsace Brut NV

It’s no secret that I love wines from Alsace, so I was thrilled when we started carrying this cremant at work. With the exception of Champagne, I don’t think there is another sparkling wine that holds up to what is being produced in this region. Personally, I prefer the range of flavors I find here to those of any other sparkling wine.

The Muré family has been producing wines for 12 generations, going back to 1650 in Alsace. They are certified biodynamic by Demeter and organic by Ecocert. Grapes are picked by hand and their juice is pressed from whole bunches, on the stems. Their website has a wealth of information, including an annual report on harvest conditions. It’s a great place to geek out while sipping on a glass.

This wine is a blend of Pinot Blanc, Auxerrois, Riesling, Pinot Gris, and Pinot Noir, a pretty standard line-up of Alsatian grapes. It is the least expensive of their sparkling wines, but has a fascinating texture, almost like I was biting into an apple. I found flavors of nectarine, apricot, pear, apple, wet stone, honey, and a touch of citrus. Structurally, it was dry, with high acid, playful, creamy, effervescence and a long finish.

We wanted a wine that would sit comfortably between Prosecco and Champagne, in terms of price point. I’ve not been as impressed with cremant from other regions in France, and have had terrible luck with Cava. When it was suggested that we might, once again, carry a Cremant d’Alsace, I was thrilled. Of the 2-3 we tasted, this was the only one that displayed a texture creamy enough to set it apart from our Prosecco and rival our reserve list Champagne. This is an incredibly food friendly wine that would pair with a wide variety of dishes or to just enjoy after a rough day of work, because you deserve something nice in your life, damn it.

Review