Iconic Wine in the Making

Thomas Jefferson, America's first wine connoisseur and gourmet, dreamed Virginia would one day make wines comparable to his most beloved French imports. I witnessed his dream come true this past weekend in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. In observance of our nation's birthday, I wish to share a tale of wine, legendary in the making.

Portraits Courtesy of Emily Plimpton EmFlash Tumblr

Six am the alarm clock, better known as my daughter, started chattering away. The day peaked through the windows, crystal blue skies and no rain clouds on the horizon. Anticipation and intellectual curiosity stirred within. I threw off the sheets--and the dog--to prepare for an excursion into the Virginia countryside in search of an iconic wine in the making.

Portraits Courtesy of Emily Plimpton EmFlash Tumblr

Fast-forwarding through set-up and group assembly, the shuttle bus rolled down the highway. While passing gently rolling hills coated in wildflowers and meadow grass, I couldn't help to wonder how RdV vineyards would be situated on any slope of significance, where grapes could receive maximum exposure to light. The landscape appeared too flat. Soon enough, though, the bus wheeled on a narrow, curving road and slowly motored its way through a perfect, rural setting.  Driving underneath a lush canopy of green forestry, trees blocked our view for the most part, until suddenly, a clearing in the trees revealed a gate on the left. A quick glance led to an unexpected sight. A steep, south-facing slope loomed ahead of us, marked by emerald green vertical stripes. These parallel rows of vines lined the hillside, forming nature's own rendition of solar panels. Nestled at the bottom of the hill, wedged against a more easterly facing slope sat the winery itself, divided in half by an impressive silo with two stark white wings extending outward.

Upon entering the facility, the group immediately felt the raw force of architectural impact. Structured lines bounding open spaces without exact symmetry proved truly fascinating in scope. A centered stairwell descended to a lower level leading to the tank room, cellar, and underground cave. Natural, welcoming light illuminated the center of the foyer and penetrated the wings, highlighting a skylight silo grounded in a concrete base left unpolished by paint or surfacing. The dualism of natural, raw elements intertwined with man-made elegance took center stage for the remainder of the day.

The man himself, Rutger de Vink, approached the group in towering confidence. His aura quickly overtook the gathering and his energy seethed with sheer focus and determination. I could envision the silent dialogues within his mind, an invisible stream of ideas and philosophical curiosities, defining a man of great depth and drive. He reviewed the agenda for the day and quickly set forth to take the first group up the "mountain" while the second group departed for the wine cave with de Vink's winemaker, Joshua Grainer.

I promptly set off to the kitchen and missed the wine cave tour while my brother and I prepped for the afternoon's luncheon. Luckily, my roommate was all eyes and ears for the tour led by Joshua. She happened to glimpse minute aspects of the winery that added to its captivating tranquility. I have included her photographs below and a link to her Tumblr feed. She felt the magic and gentle peace that pulses from the very walls of a wine cave. She captured a couple's mumblings to each other and felt compelled to share them with me. An older lady whispered to her husband, "Honey, if we weren't already married, I would marry you in this room." How else can I describe the overwhelming power of standing in the depths of Mother Earth? Joshua Grainer simply states, "For me, wine is perhaps life's greatest intellectual and sensual pursuit. The environment at RdV allows me to take this quest to the pinnacle."

Portraits Courtesy of Emily Plimpton EmFlash Tumblr

Portraits Courtesy of Emily Plimpton EmFlash Tumblr

After lunch preparations were well underway, I joined the second group for the winery tour. We set out for an authentic hay ride. While we slowly inched up the hill, Rutger shared his wine beginnings and his vision for RdV. He explained his search for soil and viticultural experts worldwide who visited his land and provided consulting expertise. They all said he has the soil and site to produce magnificent wines, but they were too inexperienced with the Virginia climate to guarantee his success. He dared to forge ahead with his dreams, and now eleven years after his first plantings, we stood at the pinnacle of his vineyards and absorbed the fruits of his labor.

Portraits Courtesy of Emily Plimpton EmFlash Tumblr

Portraits Courtesy of Emily Plimpton EmFlash Tumblr

Portraits Courtesy of Emily Plimpton EmFlash Tumblr

The sheer, impressive landscape spread out before us lay testament to his noble intentions. The vines were expertly manicured and standing astute, ready to perform their duty, like Roman legions anxiously awaiting Cesar's next call-to-arms. A gentle breeze glided over the butte and the serenity of nature settled in as if the vines were practicing their vinyasa. I imagined how often I would come here just to sit and reflect. I listened eagerly as de Vink discussed terroir and the importance of water availability to the vines. He spoke to his past failures and immediate corrections and the current status of the grapes and weather. But, I felt transposed. I did not recognize this as my Virginia and homeland. I could have been standing in Napa or Piedmont, but never had I witnessed such undertakings and potential at any other Virginia winery until now. This fact was proven after we descended the hill and indulged in a tasting of RdV's 2008 vintage poured against a 2005 Chateau Montrose, a classified second growth of the Bordeaux 1855 classification, and a 2007 Opus One.

Portraits Courtesy of Emily Plimpton EmFlash Tumblr

My personal tastes ranked Chateau Montrose as the most complex, but the RdV was a close second still not showing all in its youth. A good portion of the group, though, preferred the RdV over the Montrose and Opus. A few enjoyed the Opus the best, but with the RdV ranking second instead of third. The RdV was predominantly a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot. The juice lapped lusciously over my tongue, revealing powdery tannins, pristine fruit, balanced acidity, refined levels of alcohol, and a finishing touch of finesse. The aromas were a bit closed down at that moment in time, but the wine still rang of purity. No remnants of herbaceous elements lingered on the edges as are usually evident in most Virginia reds. The body and texture of the wine was seemless and somewhere perfectly in between the body and texture of the Montrose and Opus--the Montrose offering loads of minerality behind the fruit, while the Opus was fortified with oak tannins and vanilla tones.

Regardless of how the wine was ranked, the RdV was clearly in its class as an iconic wine. Just as the 1973 Stag's Leap changed the path for Napa wine and placed the region on world class wine maps, RdV scales uncharted territory and redefines the world's perspective on Virginia's capability of producing fine wine. I cannot wait to buy more RdV for my cellar and experiment with its age-ability, and learn more intimately the evolution of its flavor profile.

Cheese Rules

The first Cheese Boot Camp class the other week went extremely well. Everyone love the cheese and enjoyed the wine pairings immensely. So, I thought I would share some tips on how to match a wine with a particular cheese. In a world where you can choose from thousands of cheese and even more wine, the concept of picking the perfect wine for a cheese can proof daunting. First rule, lighten up and go with the flow. The best is to enjoy overall and accept that no definitive rules exist for such a subjective topic. It's hard to find a wine that doesn't work well with cheese. You might come across some clashing pairs, but follow some easy guidelines listed below and you'll be on your way to cheese and wine bliss.

Consider the cheese selection first and then go for the wine pairing. If you have the option for a cheese plate, make sure your wine bridges the various flavors between the different cheeses, even if you have one or two odd balls the accoutrements might ease the pairing. There are seven styles of cheese and usually each category pairs with particular classes of wine. When considering cheeses from France, Spain or Italy, go for a wine from the same region if you want to keep it simple. Like Crottin de Chavignol and Loire Valley whites or reds (Chenin Blanc, Sauvignon Blanc, Cabernet Franc, Pinot Noir, or Gamay). Munster with Alsatian or German Rieslings. Manchego with an inexpensive, fruity Spanish Tempranillo or Grenache/Mourvedre blend. Cow's milk semi-firm cheeses from Colorado, Wisconsin, or California with California Chardonnay, California Syrah, or Oregon Pinot Noir.

So how do you determine category or style of cheese by appearance? The rind depicts the style; hence your visual clue.

1. Fresh Cheeses have no rind. Think mozzarella, feta, cream cheese, ricotta (although that's slightly different as it's made from whey and not curd). They also have the most moisture and least complexity. Best to go for light to medium bodied wines or rosés (Riesling, Sauvignon Blanc, Pinot Gris, unoaked Chardonnay, Trebbiano, Dolcetto, Beaujolais, rosés from the Loire or Provence).

2. Soft cheeses with fuzzy, white rinds made from Penicillium candidum form your soft-ripened category of cheese . The rind forms because the cheeses are stored in humid, warm facilities attracting the mold that makes the cheeses we know as Brie, Camembert, Explorateur and Pavé d'Affinois. The rind imparts an earthy, mushroom aroma and flavor but the good gooeyness in the middle ranges in flavor from mild, tangy, salty to rich, buttery and more strongly flavored. Best to consider texture of these cheeses and match to a wine. I love Pinot Noir with Bries or Camemberts. Any wine with smooth texture from high glycerol content gives the sensation of silk, satin sheets. A sheer softness can be found in medium-priced Cabernet Sauvignons ($18-$35), Chiantis with volume, rich Bordeaux mostly from the Right Bank. But, there is nothing better than slicing a warm baguette and slathering it with fresh, creamery butter, topped with Fromager d'Affinois (or any triple-cream, soft-ripened cheese) and guzzling a glass of decadent red like Australian Shiraz that's over-the-top with fruit and jam, delivering a velvety mouthfeel. Sparkling wines not heavy on the sur lees aging pair quite well, or even New Zealand Sauv Blancs and French Sancerre.

3. Natural rind cheeses exhibit blue-grey molds with a wrinkly rind. This style encompasses all your small-sized French goat cheeses, and some American styles like the Wabash Canonball, Crocodile Tears, Crottin de Chavignol, for instance. They are harder to source in the states, but they're phenomenal with Loire Valley reds and whites (Pouilly-Fume, Sancerre, Touraine, Anjou, Saumur, Vouvray, Chinon, Bourgeuil) Chenin Blancs, Cabernet Franc, Pinot Noir and Gamay. Quintessential pairings would be your tangy Sauvignon Blancs from Sancerre, Quincy, Menetou-Salon, New Zealand or South Africa.

4. Semi-soft/Semi-firm cheeses cover all the cheeses in the middle such as Edam, Sonoma Jack, Fontina, Lambchopper, P'tit Basque, Abbaye de Belloc, Tomme de Savoie. They are not hard and they have pinkish brown to dark grey rinds, some or waxed or covered in herbs & spices. They have a somewhat "elastic" feel. The key is they do not have sticky, stinky orange rinds, or the fuzzy, bloomy white rind. They are more distinctly flavoured and can be made from goats milk, sheep or cow. So, they pair well with wines from around the world. Go for bolder flavors found in Rioja, Priorat, Argentina or Cahors Malbecs, Chiantis/Sangiovese, California Zinfandels, Cabs or Syrahs, Oregon Pinots, Burgundy. Truthfully, they are incredibly versatile with a range of medium to full-bodied reds and whites. This category is more experimental. Best to taste the cheese first and determine how aromatic, mild or robust in flavor it is to match a wine with equal complements.

5. When you're brave you explore the washed-rind cheeses which have an orangey-brown sticky rind. They are pungent in smell and flavor and most always have to be enjoyed with wine (in my opinion). Think Chimay, Munster, Epoisses, Grayson, Taleggio. Difficult cheeses to pair only because so many people will buy wine in the lower price-range, a category that fails to deliver in this case. Washed-rind cheeses are so complex aromatically, and in the organoleptic sense, that you must pair with a complex red or white wine, something that stimulates conversation for hours, a wine to truly ponder due to its layers of flavor and complexity. Aged Bordeaux, northern Italian wines such as Nebbiolo, Barolo, Barbaresco, Barbera d'Alba, Super-Tuscans, domestic Meritages, Rhone reds. In the white realm, think aged Chenin Blancs or white Bordeaux, possibly even high-quality Gruner Veltliner from aged vines, or Grand Cru Alsatian Pinot Gris or Gewurztraminer. In other words, the wines can't just be fruity and tangy, they need to be developed with secondary and tertiary aromas coming forth with great viscosity (not in a sweet wine sense but from pysiologically ripe grapes sourced from quality winemaking). Price point does matter in this case I believe.

6. Hard cheeses are fairly simple to identify for obvious reasons, they're hard. Pairing a wine is not so simple though. They range from mild to outrageously tangy or salty, so almost any wine can be a potential match. Rule of thumb is the stronger the cheese the bigger the wine required. Milder flavored cheeses do so well with Chilean reds like Carmenere or American Merlots. Cotes du Rhones, Gigondas and Chateauneuf-du-Pape taste great next to Mahon, Gruyere, Pecorino, Romano, and Roncal. Big, bold Cabernet Sauvignons do nicely with aged Goudas, aged or cloth-bound Cheddars, Mimolette, Beaufort, and Jack.

7. Blues are simple. They are usually wrapped in aluminum foil because the molds constantly release liquid that collects on the outside, the wrapper prevents a rind from forming. This category is the strongest and also the saltiest. Thus, the world of sweet and fortified wines awaits. Classic pairing would be Sauternes with Roquefort, but you can find sweet wine from anywhere. You typically want to go with white sweets that exhibit tropical fruits versus nuttiness or marzipan found in Sherry (there are exceptions of course). Botrytized wines prove to be a great pair. Red dessert wines pair nicely, including Port with Stilton or Shropshire, late harvest Zinfandels.

Below, I have listed the seven cheeses and pairings that we matched in the shop, all of which were fantastic according to the cheesemongers in attendance.

Fresh Cheese: Cypress Grove Purple Haze Arcata, California
Santa Digna Sauvignon Blanc Central Valley, Chile $11.99

Soft-Ripened Fuzzy Rind: Old Chatham Nancy's Camembert Old Chatham, New York
Elizabeth Spencer Chenin Blanc Sonoma, California $22.99

Semi-firm: Istara P'tit Basque Sheep's Milk Pyrenees Mountains, France
Savigny-Les-Beaune Les Taupes Bourgogne Rouge $22.99

Washed-Rind: Chimay Trappiste with beer Mont du Secours, Belgium
La Rivalerie Premieres Cotes de Bordeaux, Entre-deux-Mers, Bordeaux, France $24.99

Flavored Cheese (Semi-firm Category): Red Dragon made with Welsh brown ale, mustard seeds, Wales
Lucien Albrect Gewurztraminer Reserve Alsace, France $17.99

Hard: Beemster XO Gouda, Holland
Baron Philipe de Rothschild Escudo Rojo Cabernet/Carmenere Maipo, Chile $20.99

Heart Unmelting

My wine passions seem to parallel my sentiments towards life. They can change at any moment, but in general they trend cyclically. As the frost from winter melted away, my desire for bold Bordeaux, extracted Napa Cabs, oaky Spanish gems, ancient Madeira, decadent Ports, warming Washingtonian Syrahs and alcoholic Aussies waned. Symbolically my heart melted to the tune of Chinon roses, Languedoc Lascaux, supple Malbecs, peppery Zins, and velvety Sauvignon Blancs (more like musque clones and old vine Gruner). Over a glass of 2000 vintage Chartogne-Taillet, immediately followed by a 2010 Merry Edwards Russian River Sauvignon Blanc, I listened to my heart pound with nervous energy. The events of the past two years flashed before my eyes, and I reluctantly started to unwind. Solitude provides a sense of security to which I could always cling. The past four years, I welcomed solitude with open arms, just like the arrival of spring and the release of the 2009 roses, like the delicate peach-rose tinted Baudry-Dutour Cuvee Marie Justine I cracked last week over a Wisconsin Carr Cardona (snow white goat's milk rubbed with cocoa). I'd forgotten how lush rose and mouth-watering. But my seasonal wine habits opened a latched door. A passage to my denied desires, a frenzy of relentless soul chatter. An awakening to life unbridled, risky, and unknown. Solitude slumped on my stoop outside, hunched over waiting for me to change my mind, but the bottle had already been uncorked and the wine poured forth.

I survived my daughter's first year of life. Yes, me, not her. The challenges of child-rearing always present mental hurdles, especially as a single mom. I feel I can stand the test of time raising her on my own, as a certain security settles in my soul. She revolves my universe, even though I'm completely bound, trapped in the duties of motherhood, I'm still free and rhythmically attuned to her needs. No restrictive relationship, or cumbersome battles over what's best for her. I own the remote control and I sprawl between my sheets carefree. Loneliness seeps in from time to time, but nothing that cannot be abated, stomped out with busy schedules, child demands, friendly comaraderie, tasting groups, study rituals, and just good ol' "me" time over a glass of wine and cheese indulgence. Most of all, no distractions churn my thoughts in a downward spiral, no anxious doubts of "he likes me, he likes me not." No thumb twitching over anticipated texts or phonecalls. 

Really? Yes the walls were built, mounted behind a deep, wide moat while the town disposed of ropes and lumber long ago. But as the spring aromas fill the air, and my daughter's independence grows with each passing day, I can't help to notice a floundering change of sentiments. The blue Rhododendrons nourish their blooms. Irises border the drive, yellow, white and purple. My all-time favorites spring mid-June, wild and free: orange tiger-lilies. The orange petals spotted brown mark the savage dreams, the internal burning flames, the silent cries stifled deep within, passions rearing to be unleashed. Full-circle, a year gone by. Now I wonder what new philosophies should I live by? I think it's time, to share a bottle of most beloved wine with a new love. Yearning to covet a fledgling desire, the wines will turn to bubbly Champagne, sapid Italian whites, lovely Vouvrays, white Bordeaux, Gru-Vs, and chilled Beaujolais. The list of zest and thrills goes on and on, but the choices for decent companionship do not. Men do not line the dusty rows of a wine shop waiting to be plucked, and if they did, how would you know the complex layers of flavor inside from the outside label alone?

The truth be told, wine shared is more cherished. As quoted in Their Eyes Were Watching God, Jannie's heart was like the seashore, shaped and molded with each crashing wave--forever changing with each new chapter of her life. Now, for my change in the tide. What bottle dare I pick? Who dare I let inside?

2008 Chateau de Lascaux Coteaux de Languedoc J.B. Cavalier
spring garden, loaded with herbs, lavender, lilac, purple flowers. Bright red fruit, underlined with some baking spice, minerality, smooth, fine-powdered tannins. Full-bodied, huge flavor profile for the inexpensive price. find out afterwards it was a 2010 TOP 100 and mostly sold-ou

2009 Baudry-Dutour Chinon Rose
Absolutely mouth-watering, delicate, yet savoury. rose petals, dried cranberries, crisp acidity. most darling of a rose paired with cocoa cardona goats milk cheese and framani nostrano salame--very fragrant meat, but paired nicely with the cab franc rose.

2000 Chartogne-Taillet
no longer Japone-shaped cork, bit oxidized, sherry-like qualities, but the nose was so fragrant of floral and fruit, not as yeasty as I would have expected. not the best vintage for Champagne, but great experience, none-the-less. Acidity still bright with delicate mousseaux

2010 Merry Edwards Russian River Sauvignon Blanc
musque clone leading to explosive tropical fruit of pineapple, mango, papaya, very little gooseberry or grassy, cat-pee sensations. maybe a bit of asparagus and jalapeno hints, but mostl pure fruit with amazing mouth-feel. viscous and velvety. full-bodied, delicious.

Birthdays Come True

For Kate Middleton, dreams come true, princes marry commoners like Cinderella. Love stories still swoon the world. Fairytales do come true. Now, with spring in the air, azaleas raging bloom, will my Birthday wish come true? I didn't think turning 30 would bother me so much. It did on the eve of my last night in my 20s. With my baby girl tucked away in bed with visions of sugar plum fairies hopefully dancing in her head, I sat at my desk in all my state of fatigue and mustered up the will to dream.

The days get shorter with punctuated moments of relief, the chores pile high, the demands seep in where your cozy thoughts cower, hiding from the cacaphony ever threatening to conquer your reason. To erase, for a moment, the outside world and just think, what do I want? What would fulfill me from within, burst forth, and shout to the world: Here I am! Quickly, I just think, I want to read a book on historic romances, like Diana and her young Henry in the castle of Chenonceau. Or flip through moving poetry, pour over Eustache Deschamps and Geoffrey Chaucer, ponder the satire of Le Miroir de Mariage or the beginnings of iambic pentameter.

Noooo, instead I must study in every spare moment. I dream to be enraptured by wine at a level where expertise commands respect. I want to be a Master of something, namely wine. So, I march on to the tune of my birthday song. What a party it was, friends of yesterday come aglow, martinis clinking to the chatter of wine free-flow. The 1977 Magnum of Dow's Port, perfectly paired with chocolate and blue cheese smatterings. Even the Inflourescence Champagne was unforgettable, next to my birthday dinner at Palena where a 2005 Guigal Brune et Blonde came to visit after Kim Crawford's 2006 Central Otago Pinot Noir.

The cupcake confections linger wantonly everyday another bite of cookies n' cream pure delight. The 2004 Chateau Montrose roused the band, with cheerings of full-bodied cocoa, coffee, chimney-sweep scents packed in lovely textured tannin sippings. Mmmmm, my birthday was one for the decade to be sure. Now, to move on and focus, the goal is not yet within reach, but as Confuscius said it does not matter how slowly you go, so long as you do not stop.

How to make my birthday wish come true?....dare to dream, and dream BIG. Master of Wine will I greet you the next decade birthday bash? I venture to take heart, birthday wishes do come true. And I am determined, settling in to my long lost friend...my imagination.

2004 Clos du Marquis Saint-Julien
Herbaceous, cocoa, bitter upfront, needed to open more. Delivered rustic mouthfeel. 2nd wine of Leoville Las Cases. Supple though, through and through, backed with power, bit of cassis, not singing to me really, a bit too bitter.

2006 Chateau Talbot Saint-Julien
So accessible even though quite young. Velvety smooth, bodacious red fruits, chimney place in my living room, cold ash murmurings, refreshing--mouth-watering, balanced acidity, black fruits rampant, chocolate dustings. Mouth-smacking.

Garden Preoccupation

The time of year is here, the roomie and I anxiously anticipate harvesting the fruits of her labor from her plotted terrace in the backyard. All winter long we've thoughtfully added to the compost pile with our recyclable wastes. Creating, we hope, a garden to be envied. Never do you taste vegetables and fruits so fresh, then when plucked ripe from your own tilled earth. Squash, carrots, melons, peas, greens of chard, lettuce, spinach, peppers, tomatoes, strawberries, assorted herbs....mmmm. My mind is turning with images of recipes churning from our homey kitchen. The only trick is to keep the roving hound, Stella, out of the heaping mounds of glorious dirt--great for digging I presume, and wolfing down scrumptious, succulent veggies.

Last night, poignant memories of garden goodness instilled indelible tastes in my mouth while I salivated over an aged Rioja. Paired with a simple whole wheat rotini pasta tossed with zuchhini, tomatoes, red peppers, and pecorino cheese, my 2003 Baron de Ley Rioja Reserva, imported by Frederick Wildman, wrapped flavors of garden fresh aromatics around my olfactory senses. As the words flow, images of fresh turned soil penetrate savory reminisce of dill, tomato leaf, and sun-tanned fruits. So good on which to finish a Thursday night after Ab Ripper X and a long, hard week of Tony Horton, my goal of P90X.

Wine Pigs, First Spin

The wine biz is a difficult industry for a woman. The same is true of the restaurant world, and the two are intimately entwined. I know the next few sentences might upset a few, but I wouldn't lay down a tale untrue. With stereotypes in mind and the knowledge of exceptions to the rule, mind your judgement and assess the story laid before you.

The past ten years of my life, I navigated the rat race of indecent proposals, profanity, butt pinching, breast brushing, chef snickers, scandalous sex rumors, vulgar come-ons, lude bartenders, drugs, booze, rage-devoured male managers, chefs, or owners, holier-than-thou male wine aficionados, (clearing of throat) excuse me, experts. Then to boot, a culture conducive to women with something to prove. The truth be told, I count on one hand the genuine gentleman I have encountered, a rare species to behold.

On a tame note, most male sommeliers and masters of wine prove to be sophisticated, fun, intriguing, intelligent, cultured, and perhaps a bit eccentric with an underlying arrogance, small doses or brazen, depends on each man and what he holds within. I don't know any masters of their craft who aren't somewhat arrogrant, pride is warranted where reverance is due. I'll never forget the ultimate snub when a famed MW turned his back on me in mid conversation to greet the male bartender at a restaurant where he was to dine that evening. With allegiance to reputable behavior, I paused giving him the benefit of the doubt, waiting for the admirable "Pardon Me," but I finally resorted to awkward interjection. He promptly ignored my interlude and rudely forged on to exclude me, mighty important talk it was too. With this instance in mind and countless others, I have come to the careful conconclusion that most men in the biz unconsciously or knowingly dismiss the female palette.

This tale to be told, though, has hope waiting to unfold, as I've found an oasis in the sludge pool of self-important male wine-Os. Many trips I do take to the house of Wine Pigs, a name they've been dubbed by friends of old. Iowa-farmboy-liquor-retailer meets master-mind lawyers, bonified wine salesmen, and little ol' me: just a gal into wine virtuoso. Greedy they are not. Male, and true to form with all their sexual inuendos they are. Doesn't matter, I enjoy their company and the vino experience they so graciously share in exchange for female flare. Rare form I sit, watching them weave their tales of extraordinary sips, wines of bygone eras, days of Bordeaux fetching prices shockingly low. Stock market numbers, chefs ever so bold, memoirs of friends passing to be told, voice volume rumbles as the cheese and wine flow.

With casual friends sharing the same plot in life, undying love for God's given grape lots, I have to say I will share many escapades to Chevy Chase where the Wine Pigs gather to slop. On this particular day we opened:

2007 Domaine de Baumard Trie Speciale Savennieres
One of my favs, Chenin Blanc, kissed with oak. Full body mouth delivery expressing quince paste, apple and hazelnuts, the perfect cue for a picnic lunch. Unique to describe, the acid hides under a layer of viscous aged notes, almost like oxidized but not, just a quality of this particular type found in the region of Anjou on the banks of the Loire. Savennieres produce amazing age-worthy whites loaded with sapidity, acidity and extract. The flavor that throws me a loop is ripe grain mixed with grapefruit.

2003 Chateau Destieux Saint-Emilion Grand Cru
Woah boy, heavy, heavy on first impact, made me immediately think aggressive oak. This is a chateau that did not make the 1996  Grand Cru classification, but was incorporated in 2006. Interesting notes of coffee, plum, polished tannin, dark chocolate, maybe even some cedar box, but OAK, OAK and more OAK. Not my style, but riveting none-the-less. So aggressive I thought, which would mellow with something bold, like lamb, venison stew, or just a big ol' slab of ribeye done up for two.

2004 Cos d'Estournel Saint-Estephe
I asked the head Wine Pig to bring me Les Pagodes de Cos, but he refused on the grounds that we had too little time to lose. The highlight booze for sure. Definite finesse, less upfront aggression, which surprised me as Saint-Estephe tends to be blockbuster. Superb tannin palette-feel, lingering finish with that intoxicating melange of Indian spice that I just don't quite "get" yet--hard for me to depict distinct aromas. Cocoa dusting, red and black fruits galore. Expertly integrated oak, still young, but loved this. My kind of wine, so my love affair with Cos d'Estournel lives on lingering in the atmosphere of classics that never die young.

2007 Gould Campbell Vintage Porto
the whammy I had to guzzle so I could hit the beltway before mad rush hour set in. Just saying, port is a dying trend, but with the right pushing I think it could swing back around again. I'm tired of restaurant lists with poor selections. In a perfect world, grape utopia, I could stand to give lessons on Madeira and Porto. I wish entrepreneurs would dare to give in and make low margins on after dinner drinks, the sweet wines few care to "get." Wishful hoping, who knows what the leprechaun might bring? But back on track, the notes for Port. Rich, rich, rich, with layers of tannic grip. Blueberries on the rise, way too young to appreciate, yet great bang to finish on.

Ciao, till I write again...

Daybreak to Wine Love

Day break instills vivid impressions and bright inspirations. Daybright light--piercing color tones--probes dark corners of fading dreams, warms the household and grants promising hopes for the day ahead. A quick peak through the blinds: yellow daffodils smile at morning break, robins hop to broken chirps of song, deep breaths bring crisp, cool air, washing reminders of yesterday away. Pristine thoughts increase as I gaze on the earth stretching, giving one last yawn. If only I could forever capture the morning dawn.

Little did I know the tale about to be told: a recording of vintage interspersed with a love of old. 2002 Brunello di Montalcino, reportedly a sad year to behold, gives way to a startling account of poor quality inflated to stardom as context unfolds. The love of which I speak is none other than a relationship gone sour, yet continuously teetering as a love story never so bold.

Affairs of the heart are truly one of a kind, each to their own, exceptions all count, perceptions dilute, beginnings forgotten, ends eager and wanton. To speak plainly, my heart aches for a man I once had. A pain double-sided with desire on one side battling rational conscience on the other. Forgive and forget? Or move on with acceptance, constantly recalling hurtful deceipts, selfish acts, and lusty betrayals? Remembering my actions wanes deeply on my soul, giving in to temptation's threshold.

After a day spent lingering on romantic fantasies of how to rescind paths taken, the convoluted reality revealed itself during a simple tasting of organic Brunello. The night was late, the wine still young. Best friends convened having loads of fun. The mood was set, my spirits soared, freedom crashed my tranquil shore. Wine flowed, gossip flung, giggling girls poked fun, flirtatious rants with cute servers dared to be flung. Now with this in mind, I must reveal the hopeful vino poured by an owner wishful for my attentions still. In the moment, the 2002 San Polino Brunello di Montalcino exploded sweet swills. Nothing could make me more happy than the sexy aromas tip-toeing around the sensors within my nose. In the heat of the moment, excitement too palpable to quench the languid lackings of this wine and all its mid-drift packings. 

2002 San Polino Brunello di Montalcino promises fresh fruits, torrents of plum, and a hint of sun-dried tomato, vine-ripened with soft, powdery tannins from an organic run. Production persists amongst the hills southeast of Montalcino, where the climate approaches warmer pockets delivering luscious, mouth-puckering wine bits. But, lo and behold, the mid-palate went slush, leaving no room for fuss, tragically ending in simple disgust.

The aromatics still soared, so everything else I chose to ignore, because nothing in this moment could give rise to scorn. I missed the man I once knew, the man I once had, everything else left unsaid, nothing to brag. Now I know a lesson to be told. A wine can pose as something breathtaking and carouse, depending upon the company and context the drinking aroused. This resolves a riddle confounding my soul. Merriment is a choice, perception is reality. What could be more morose?

Now you'll know, truth be told, when you return from Italy with memories of gold and no wine in the shops here in the States compare, nothing is remiss, you just had something you'll forever miss: a moment of bliss enveloped in vino...

Beaujolais and BBQ

BBQ and Beaujolais? Never would considered, but Friday night lonesome fatigue was waiting for me on the couch. The finale of a long week with Audrey refusing to eat the delicious baby food I made her--reminiscent of Life As We Know It. So, I did the worst thing. I popped a California Pizza Kitchen Chicken and BBQ pizza in the oven. Of course, whatta ya know, but my 9 month old demanded hand-outs: BBQ smears, lip-smackin' cheesy goodness, and all. Note to self, my father was right. Kids love spaghetti and pizza. For me, my Friday dish delish was turning into a bombshell of salty preservatives, American factory-manufactured cheese, and that weird spongy chicken, not to mention pizza dough a far cry from wood-fired, yeasty freshness. What to do? I spied a bottle of Beaujolais on the counter....

I have to admit, I went on a Beaujolais kick back in January to experience the hype this region has received in the past couple years. I bought only Cru Beaujolais, and only from Morgon, Chiroubles, Fleurie and Brouilly. Was my palette off? Or did I just not get it? Every bottle failed to WoW me. Soft, undefined flavors flailed in my mouth, acid overran the fruit, and overall the flavor profiles and ashy aromatics failed to deliver my tastes to the moment of euphoria. But Garyvee, Jancis Robinson, and countless sommeliers proclaim Beaujolais as the hottest new wine wagon. Some argue younger generations will take to Beaujolais like the world smoldered Bordeaux. I'm thinking, Whhhaaaat? Am I missing something in my glass? Bordeaux WoWs me. I sway with tantric mumblings, intoxicated by Bordeaux aromas alone, the palate fascinates no less.

Ok, sidebar regress, putting Beaujolais back to the test. I opened a 2009 Domaine du Pavillon de Chavannes Cote de Brouilly bought at Wine Warehouse, Charlottesville, VA, took a big sniffy sniff, and enjoyed all the rest! Finally! I get Beaujolais and I'm ready to taste more. Aromatic yumminess bursted forth from the glass. Red raspberry finesse pumped up with watermelon bubblegum and pomegranate plush. Subtle ashiness in the back, but not a turn off, because it tickles your nostrils slightly with dusty appeal. Medium bodied, soft, supple tannins, bright red fruits on the front, middle and end. My kind of acid, meaning medium plus, well-balanced, salivating sweetness. Oh, and then I plunged the daring stunt, sinking my teeth into that monstrosity of America's classic TV dinner, frozen pizza warmed. Hmmm, I pondered, I smiled, I ate on. My Beaujolais transformed my meal. The BBQ sweetness melded to the wine's red fruits and high-wire acid while presenting a background smokiness that subdued the minerality of the wine, and passed on the ultimate effect: thirsty for more.

Cool beans, I want more, Beaujolais 2009 that is...

Zany Pairing: Sea Bass and Bandol

Bandol
Mourvedre thrives as the mainstay grape of Provence's oldest vine-growing region, and grows in pebbly limestone, with pockets of sandy marls and sandstone. The terraced vineyards mostly face south, creating an amphitheater lined by man-made walls of river stone called restanques. 

Mourvedre produces densely pigmented wines with high levels of tannin and acidity. Being a late-harvesting grape and Spanish native, Mourvedre demands lots of sunshine and warmth to produce mature fruit. The grape's aromatic profile reveals herbs, ripe plum and strawberry fruit with a hint of meaty undertones in its youth, but turns to scents of leather and truffle after aging.

Bandol supplies Mourvedre with the perfect climatic arena due to its long, hot growing season and low fertility of the soils. My choice of red Bandol with Saturday night's dinner represents only 25% of the appellation's production, while roses comprise 70% of total production.

My brother, Bob--a chef at Willow Restaurant, Arlington, Va--purchased fresh sea bass from Washington D.C.'s fishermen wharf and prepared accompaniments of carrot vinaigrette, broccolini, and creamy lentils with mirepoix, shallots and thyme. Sea bass pairs well with Bandol because of its mild flavor, firm texture and high fat content. Lentils add a rich, nutty flavor to the dish which pairs well with the acidity presented by the Mourvedre. The combinations worked beautifully, the sensations striking, euphoria levels high.

2007 Chateau de Pibarnon Bandol rests amongst the La Cadiere hills west of Toulon with 25 year old vineyards positioned in a naturally southward facing amphitheatre. The winemaker blends approximately 10% Grenache and 90% Mourvedre, resulting in an aromatic wine with substantial tannins. On the palette, though, the tannins swell with softness--no abrasive, chewy or overly dry sensations. Herbaceous nose, pretty red fruits, bright acidity. As for terroir, limestone soils contribute to the acidity of the wine and produce lean, polished tannins. Pairs perfectly with the aromatic lentils and carrot vinaigrette, ultimately providing the fish entree with more substance, texture, and richness.

Cotes de Provence Sainte-Victoire

Situated on the back side of Mont Sainte-Victoire, a majestic limestone ridge, rests old vines of Cabernet Sauvignon and Grenache in the vineyards of Domaine Richeaume. Protected by Cezanne's beloved mountain, the vines experience more of a continental climate than Mediterranean and rarely bear the force of the Mistral winds. Saint-Victoire remains one of three cru classes of Cotes de Provence AOC.

Similar to Les Baux de Provence AOC, Sainte-Victoire consists of limestone and clay soils, which produce classic garrigue characteristics in the aromatics and flavor profiles of the wines. Soils are rich in bauxite.

As for terroir reminiscent in the palette, the flavor of the wine I selected from this region was completely opposite in style of the Mas de Gourgonnier red I tasted prior to enjoying this wine.

Fifteen miles east of Aix lies Domaine Richeaume, nestled up against the jagged limestone flank of Mont Sainte-Victoire. An historian and classical cellist, Henning Hoesch, founded the domaine in 1972 and farmed along regimented organic principals. He proved to be a pioneer after being one of the first to plant Cabernet Sauvignon and advocate organic farming, both now staples in Provence. Henning's son, Sylvain, followed in his father's footsteps when he took over the domaine after working alongside Paul Draper at Ridge Winery in 1996 and again in 2000. The domaine encompasses 200 acres of land, devoted to the vine, olive orchards, grains and pasture area for sheep. The Cuvée Tradition flaunts roughly equal parts Cabernet and Grenache, and sometimes a touch of Syrah. This traditional blend combines the masculine austerity of Cabernet with the feminine opulence of Grenache, producing a dark and rich red with lovely aromatics and full sumptuous flavors.

2007 Domaine Richeaume Cuvee Tradition
Opened. Poured. Inhaled deeply. Shocked--initial reaction. Huge oaky overtones. Smelt more reminiscent of Bordeaux, extremely tight, and honestly disappointed, because I went in with premonitions of floral bouquet, garrigue expectations. But, oh, so devastatingly wonderful this wine became. Paired with pork tenderloin I braised in the oven at low temp in a bath of Sam Adams Octoberfest beer (the only meager source of marinade I had at my Mom's house in remote location in Massanutten Resort, Harrisonburg, Virginia--my private escape). Placed pork over sauteed bed of spinach, garlic and onion. After tasting the pork and sipping the wine, the flavors exploded in my mouth. Rich opulence, smooth decadence, over-delivery in the velvet category. Leather, smoke, subtle game fused with red fruits, lavender and herbaceous undertones. Definite power indicative of clay soils displayed. Cabernet heavy for sure. Right on with proprietor's decription of Cabernet masculinity melded with rounded, sumptuous Grenache interminglings. I couldn't stop, be it the intoxicating aroma, the delicious flavor, or the addictive texture sensations, I entered a wine trance. My weekend was justified, my escape from humanity complete. My bondage with Richeaume sealed. The soul of Provence will never forsake me. I'm sold. Terroir or not, this taste forever unforgettable.

The Launch of Terroir Study

Terroir is a page dedicated to tasting the "terroir" in a wine through pictorial, literary, and sensory exploration. This word, terroir, instills magical visions in my head that simply swirl into clouds of confusion. Big question marks pop up each time I consider the concept of terroir. Anyone who has blind-tasted knows terroir manifests itself in the aromas and flavors of a wine. I can pinpoint a wine from Italy in a heartbeat and smell a Virginia wine from across the room, an aroma I definitely termed "Virgina Twang." Smell a red wine from South Africa next to an Australian Shiraz, and then tell me terroir doesn't exist.

Terroir encompasses every aspect of nature a wine grape experiences like vintage, soil, microclimate, mesoclimate, topography, viticulture, geography, precipitation, sun exposure, wind, you name it. However, the expression of terroir shrouds itself under a veil of mysticism. So, I have decided to research this link between place and taste in order to document concrete descriptions versus elusive references to minerality, earth, and the vague word, Terroir.

France

Provence
Simply stated, Provence fascinates me. I close my eyes and transcend to a whole new world. Craggy outcroppings of jagged mountains resting among majestic purple plains of lavender. Times of chivalry and warlords flicker, displaced with images of King Arthur and Guenevere. Endemic wines evoke impressions of land braced by sea and alpine climes. Artists such as Cezanne, Van Gogh, & Dante depict a land of rugged beauty.

I set out to taste a number of Provencal red wines the other day, below my notes follow. I will continue to post as I source these wines; however, their discoveries prove challenging as distribution of Provencal reds remains very limited in the U.S.

Provence harbors two principal soil types: calcareous limestone and quartz. The soils of the northern and western hills and ranges consist largely of limestone and clay, while the eastern regions contain quartz. Soil type corresponds to the vegetation present. Garrigue, which grows on limestone, is a classic wine descriptor that refers as much to the soil as to the resinous herbs that grow upon it.  Maquis refers to a scrub that thrives on soils rich in quartz.

Les Baux de Provence
Vineyards surround the village of Les Baux, a 13th century fortress perched on a rocky plateau in the Alpilles Mountains approximately 800 feet above sea level. The town itself was named after its very appearance "Baou"--a Provencal term for rocky outcropping. The AOC Les Baux de Provence lies in the western most half of Provence just southeast of Avignon.

The soils in Baux are limestone and rich in Bauxite, a mineral that was named after this village and is used to extract aluminum. In reference to terroir, this area is extremely hot and resides next to the Val d'Enfer (Hell Valley). The wines are all organic, mostly produced by biodynamic practices due to the climate and the beneficial impact of the Mistral, a cold, dry north wine that reduces humidity and temperatures during the sweltering summer months. Reds must contain a minimum of 60% of at least two of the following grapes: Grenache, Syrah, and Cinsault. Mourvedre, Carignan, Counoise and Cabernet Sauvignon can also be blended.

2007 Mas de Gourgonnier Les Baux de Provence, Provence, France
Approximate 30% Grenache blended with Syrah, Cabernet Sauvignon, Carignan, all stainless steel fermentation--interesting considering the tannins are so formidable. First impression, barnyard funk, reductive nature of syrah playing out, but extremely aromatic wafting layers of garrigue, lavender, sandalwood, leather straight off the horses back, black pepper, intense red fruits. In the mouth, chewy with a faint sensation of powdered sugar, bracing acidity, gripping. Few minutes later the funk blew off and opened up. So soily on the nose and the palate, intriguing tastes of chalky minerality. Aromas of garrigue and black olive intoxicating. Great wine!

Pinot Envy

It was the night before Monday, all was quiet through the house. I awaited my guests anxious as all get out. I had run all about for baby, work, and now for dinner delicious beyond any doubt. More than anything, I wished to lounge on the couch, soak up some tweet deck, and raid my cheese pouch. At times in my life, I wish for the performance to end, but as a single mom and sommelier, I must bear and grin. Don't get me wrong, the hustle is for what I live. The energy just continues to cycle, never gives in until the ultimate moment of chagrin. As everyone knows, these moments when failure sets in, doubt lurks, you feel the energy slip...down, down, down, spiraling downward never to return again. I fidgeted around the house, wringing my hands, little did I know, the best for my soul was about to begin...and thus, this is the tale of Pinot Noir pinned Antidote to Chagrin.

Love has never been a strong suit for me. The trump card has consistently been fairytale romances spun in my head, always fed by renaissance literature or revolutionary periods for Western Civ. Jane Austen's pick of gentry, like Mr. Darcy, or Stephanie Meyer's Edward Cullen, could very well fit the fairytale my head lives in during those moments apart from the world, when reality has no bearings. Women pine, "Where are all these men?" I never dreamed one would walk right in eager to devour four plates of London Broil marinated in Dr. Pepper, molasses, garlic, curry spices, wine vinegar, and worcestershire--an attempt on homespin.

Homespun, indeed. This was the only ticket I would need. Brussels sprouts sizzled with bacon, and squash casserole baked with panko, butter and Prima Donna Gouda accompanied the 5lbs of London Broil served with a red wine demi-glace my roommate and I mastered for a guy she wanted to win. I have to admit, though, I didn't realize the potential of this male guest until after the Pinot sipping was put to the test. Four bottles of Pinot Noir brought on a plane by a dear, dear friend, sat on my table calling for me to succumb: stop for the moment, quit playing Artemis and sit down at the feet of Bacchus and listen to the trance brought on by his flute.

This story will not reveal the innermost thoughts of romance unwilled, but it does speak to hope in love, passion, and all the tingling feelings of raw emotion one can spill. Envy of love, I must say I am; but at least now I can be lost in Pinot envy.

My dear friend mentioned above visited Willamette Valley a few weeks ago and sought to buy a few gems. My contribution was the 2009 Ken Wright Cellars Willamette Valley, which I think still should win for all those dire pinot lovers envious to drink good vin.

Here's the lineup, and the notes to follow within:

Briefly I mentioned my favorite to be the 09 Ken Wright, following suit was the 08 Sineann Resonance Vineyard. I plan to write a comparison between the two vintages '09 and '08 in my Terroir section, and I will add some Pinots under $20 worth sipping, Just give me this weekend.

2009 Ken Wright Willamette Valley approx $29
Opulent fruit, the texture of the wine is what gets me everytime, so much to chew on, but yet silky soft. Bright acidity, bouquet lingers through the finish. Delivers what I want from a Pinot

2006 Methven Family Vineyards Reserve Willamette Valley approx $35
Most Burgundian of the four with the more earthy undertones, dark fruit, leather. Beautiful nose, but the wine began to disappoint on the finish after it had been open awhile. First sip, killer. Last sip, didn't deliver for the price.

2008 Sineann Resonance Vineyard approx $42
My second favorite. Bright cherry fruit with a sensation of standing in a wild strawberry patch with a wiff of a flat Coca-Cola in your hand. Ethereal palate feel, what makes Pinot so yummy. Vervy acidity, great with our cheese selection of Cypress Grove Purple Haze and Brillat-Savarin.

2007 Sineann Wyeast Vineyard Columbia Gorge $42
Consistent in style with its '08 Sister--female in sex with this wine because the delicate fruits play true on the nose as well as the palate. Red fruits of cherry, strawberry, touch of rhubarb, and some pomegranate play out on the palate. Good acidity, but just not the same depth as the 2008 Resonance.

Wine Epiphany

The comforts of your own home could never stand more true when the cork is pulled from great wine. What defines a great wine? Sense of place, taste, smell, finish, balance? These are all pertinent contributing factors; but essentially, to me, a wine is great when the overall finale is greater than the sum of its parts. Synergy applies in this case. So a tale of synergy unfolds...

My minister, Father James—weird as religion sounds, seeping into my blog post—visited last week to bless my home for Epiphany. The first time I have ever done something so "homey-conservative-like." With all I had been through this past year, from having a baby as a single mom in the restaurant industry to changing my career path, I wanted to bless my house. Hope for new beginnings. Dream for better tomorrows. Aspire to weave my wraiths come true.

So, I went down to my fledgling cellar to gently pull out a 1999 Rinaldi Barolo and a 2005 Claude Dugat Gevrey-Chambertin. My roommate, and best friend, diligently worked over our marinated flank steak and 2 day-in-the-making red wine demi-glace, while I carefully decanted my hopes for the new year. After whipping the sour cream mashed potatoes, drizzling the demi-glace jus, and spooning out a squash-panko casserole spiked with a bit of Midnight Moon Gouda cheese, I poured the wines.

Explosive. Surreal. Contemplative. Bold. Meaty. Much to discuss.

2005 Dugat Gevrey-Chambertin unraveled slowly, bit young of course, but every inch masculine, brawny with foresty treasures, mushrooms, meat, horsey hide sprinkled with dark fruits. Specatacular acidity, my faith in God's good work confounding. Shy I was around the minister sipping vino, but the monks started all this magnificent craft! Where would wine be today without religion?

My hopes for the promising New Year were sealed with the 1999 Rinaldi Barolo. Pure finesse, perfumes of intoxicating rose petals, delicate but penetrating. Dried fruits abound, baked earth lined with smooth tannins. True bliss for sure. The exorcism could now begin. Out with the old, in with the new.