Bom Dia!

Yes, I freely admit that I have been sulking.
Well I have been a tad more concerned with ‘something to say’ for French A level students rather than wine bloggers, but here I am raising my Tawney head again. And I can only state that I am tickled pink to have read not one, but TWO posts from Screwtop. Chapeau, mon vieux! Et bonne continuation. Would that I had been able to partake of a little Brazilian Mumm myself – quel bonheur!
Whitherto henceforth?
Currently sipping Chateau Bonnet Réserve 2003 and whilst I couldn’t go so far as to agree with the label’s billing – ‘culture d’exception’ – I could assert that those bastards have done it again and it’s ‘alreet’ as they say in the North East of England, particularly as it was an unsolicited gift from the babysitter…

The Brazilian

A quick entry regarding an experience from a couple weeks ago...

Me and some buddies headed down to Rio for a few days. We found ourselves dining at "00", an industrial-chic restaurant which morphed into a club 'round midnite.

Seeking refuge from cairpirina rain, I offered to order up some bubbly for us. Vino in Brazil is generally expensive--import duties, I presume. But I spied a "Mumm" sparkling for a reasonable price (if I remember correctly, something like 50 Real--about $30 US).

I couldn't really understand the bottle as it was, for the most part, in Portuguese, but the bubbly was decent, especially for the price. It was fruity, and although it was a "Brut", it was definitely sweeter than the French equivalent.

The next day I realized that the Mumm we had was actually produced in Brazil. A very pleasant surprise: when one thinks of South American wines, Chile and Argentina spring to mind. But given Brazil's vast range of topographies, soils and micro-climates, not to mention its world-renowned agricultural prowess, it is safe to say that this is one to watch. Hey, the more countries making reasonably-priced, quaffable bubbly (and claret, and chardonnay...), the better!

A rant regarding Loonie wine prices!

Time for the inner economist in me to go on a little rant. I have been in the Big Apple (Big Grape?) for a fortnight, and am just dismayed at the differential in wine pricing between the U.S. and Canada--especially given that the currencies are now at par.

Here in NYC, you can get a very good (typically French) bottle of wine at a great restaurant for $80-100. No offense to B.C. wines, but during my last trip to Vancouver, for that price one was getting fair B.C. wines (perhaps an Ossoyos Larosse or something of that inky ilk).

When I arrived in the city, I promptly ordered a half-case of wines from Gotham wines:

-2 bottles of 2006 Jaboulet Parallel-45 rose
-1 bottle 2005 Parallel-45 Red
-1 bottle of a 1995 St. Emillion
-1 bottle of 2003 Chateau La Nerthe Chateauneuf du Pape
-1 bottle of 2005 Perrin Cote du Rhone Reserve

Ticking through this list, you can see that these are all pretty damn nice wines, ranging from "table" to "special occasion". (Incidentally, one of the least expensive, the Perrin, was one of the most oustanding--the Chateau de Beaucastel lineage certainly shines through!)

Now what do you suppose Gotham charged me, delivered right to my apartment? You will no doubt be as shocked as I was: $115!!

Clearly, there is something broken when it comes to wine pricing in Canada. $115 might get you 3 or 4 bottles of a Burrowing Owl--not a terrible wine, but certainly not in the realm of (m)any of the above.

I am not sure whether it is import duties or excessive taxation or excessive retail mark-up (I think we can all agree that restaurant mark-ups in B.C. are criminal!)

Thoughts, fellow bloggers? Corked and Sommelier, as you are about to descend upon Gotham, I urge you to dig--er, drink--into this pricing disparity more deeply!

-Screwtop

Summer's Lees (hath all too short a date)

Sitting in damp autumnal Vancouver it might be a good moment to look back at the wines of the summer. Already the hot July days of the annual pilgrimmage to South West France are receeding into hazy memory. But not the whites we tasted, some of which stand out as highlights of the year's imbibing. First, the trip to Bordeaux's Vinoteque - surely one of the great wine shops of the world. A mixed case of good white wine was selected - to accompany the sardines and les huitres, the favoured staples of summer dejeaner sur l'herbe. And a few reds for later in the day to usher in the cheese.

Chateau Doisy Daene 2002 was the first choice. A family favourite over many a summer, but (like the eponymous swan) was a shadow of its former self. Pierre Dubordieu, a legendary winemaker, (held by my parents in appropriately named proximity to God) has retired, it seems, and his son Dennis does not have the magic touch. Famed for his Barsac/Sauternes, Doisy Daene Sec used to be an extraordinarily complex and fragrant white with all the Semillion flavour coming through and balancing the acidity of the Sauvignon Blanc. But not any more. This, alas, was nearer to a straight Entre-De-Mers than an extremely good value white Pessac.

Clos Floridene 2003, a white Graves from the stable of the Dubordieus as well, was also a much lesser whine then before. Much pricier than the Doisy Daene you have a right to expect a serious wine, layered and refined. Again (in the hands of le fils Denis) it has flattened out into something standard and unexceptional.

However, La Tour Martilliac 2005 did not disappoint. All the hallmarks of a complex Pessac - a slightly gravel taste and almost a petrol quality but also the strong fruit and the delicate balance. A lovely lingering finish. The perfect lunch time bottle and still remembered by Tawny as part of a near illicit afternoon's pleasure in Bordeaux. Better than the 2001 white Pessac from the Lurton brothers (leading 'negotiants' much reviled by my parents for their zealous commerciality) as La Tour de la Louviere was one dimensional compared to the Martillac

But another old family favourite, Chateau Le Portail Rouge 2004 - an excellent value Loupiac - was still the gateway to fine drinking. Tawney was even prevailed upon to accompany the bottle with one of her signature dishes - tarte au citron. Truly a marriage made in heaven (the wine and dessert that is, of course). Loupiac provides great value in desert wine - often less than half the price of a good Sauternes but its near equal in quality.'

And now we move to the cheese stage. A very pleasant St Julien (perhaps my favourite appelation of all), Chateau Gloria 2003. A cru bourgeois so nothing excessively pricey it was warm, robust, earthy and had enough strength to linger well into the evening. It put to shame the rather thin Chateau Reynon 2003 a red Graves from Vielles Vignes by that now mistrusted figure of Denis Dubordieu who it seems it exerting a kind of reverse alchemy. Also worth of a mention in dispatches is Chateau Maucaillou 2004 a Moulis-en-Medoc which I've always found excellent value and a very well structured, well made wine.

And so, mes amis, we come to the end of our lengthy repas d'ete. Fall in North America has its compensations. Pumpkin pie and Halloween. Or the release of the 2004 Bordeaux vintage. Take your pick. Mine is a mixed case.

In my cups...

It is more in sorrow than in anger that I have to issue a rebuke to fellow NON-bloggers.
The point of blogging is that it must be regular. This is not a difficult concept for anyone to grasp, let alone alumni of ancient universities. Pick up the gauntlet! To do so, you only need to pick up a glass and then do some merry tip-tapping on the keyboard. God knows, I am busy too. Step up to the plate. Show us what you're made of. COME ON!
Frankly, I just blether on and so does Corked...
Screwtop, I found you witty and entertaining, but I am now cast down and disquieted. WHERE'S THE BEEF? Sommelier, get a new filing system. Corked, remember to put titles on your posts. But then at least there was a post!
To console myself, I have had to open a bottle of Chablis 1er Cru Vaillon, from the Domaine Christian Moreau - 2005.
Nice, buttery, coats the glass beautifully and I drink alone.
I may never recover. Although gestures towards reparation might include arriving with a mixed case for my delectation...in fact a bottle would do.

Well, I can announce to our never-converted enthusiasts that  a few bottles of similar cab-merlot are  languishing in the garage of my latest lodging. And, should they play their cards well (the ne'er converted, not the patrons, who, by the way, are well converted and count Nota Bene amongst their favourite companions, to whom they have in the past magnanimously introduced me on more than one occasion), I would invade their collection (I rack it) with a bottle or two to give them some sense of connection to their new world.

So it is noted, kudos to Tawney for keeping the spirit of the bottle well slaked. I could not help but notice, that, in our inaugural The Bottle evening spent languishing on the heights of Burnaby mountain, dining on some fine pork belly and Chateau Brown, that the voices responsible for enological verbosity around the table were very same that are incomprehensibly silent in this forum. Does this expertise need a challenge?

I will admit, though, that these voices did order up some pretty tasty stuff.

Bill lines up.

I keep trying to persuade myself I’m not a competitive person, but when push comes to shove, I am the first to post! Ha!
I am intending to discuss one bottle consumed and am giving the rest of you the chance to pick one other from the four sampled. I would like to read your posts within 48 hours or you will be receiving a large black mark this end.
That being said, thanks are due all round to fellow bloggers. Screwtop for sharing, Corked for chauffeuring and Sommelier for choosing…
I get to do the Okanagan. I am pleased to announce that Bill Eggert – Fairview Cellars 1994 – is doing something right. Exhibiting much more complexity than I have come to expect from Okanagan wines, this Bordeaux style blend made for very pleasant drinking. And at $25 I would buy it, if I could get hold of it. Ah there’s the rub…
Bill’s bottle does prove that, with judicious blending and ageing, making quality wines in the Okanagan is a possibility. Apparently Fairview sits on a golf course. Bill is most definitely hitting more birdies than bogeys. Bravo!

I'm still waiting...

Enjoying a spectacular Indian summer in Vancouver, the Okanagan seems far behind us. A good time was had by all - especially the trainspotters, who rejoiced in the Kettle Valley Railway. Ah, the power of steam... However, the encumbrance of three children under six, whilst being, in other respects, an enduring joy and an inestimable blesssing, meant that 'une petite dégustation' was not really on the agenda. Still, we managed to drink a fair amount of palatable wine from regions other than Canada's finest, so cannot complain. Take, for example, the Rasteau - Domaine des Escaravailles - 2003. 'Joli nez de fruits noirs, de cerise et de pruneau cuit...' Very fine, consumed next to a firepit after a hearty helping of barbecued BC bison, particularly when accompanying goat's cheese from Salt Spring Island. Or the more prosaic J and F Lurton Pinot Gris from Mendoza, or the said Lurtons' Les Salices, Viognier Pays d'Oc - both around the $19/$20 mark - 'Tuesday drinking' as my neighbour, Derek, the 'delicious dad' terms it.
On the Okanagan front, however, in the immortal words of Diana Ross - 'I'm still waiting'...

In search of Shangri La...

Corked - I hear ya honey! Call me sceptical, but I do agree with Jancis Robinson that the amount of wine produced in BC is so minimal - around Slovenian quantities- that maybe it doesn't really bear serious consideration. Have I mentioned this before? Perhaps... short term memory lapse. Apologies. Anyway, interesting article at http://www.jancisrobinson.com/articles/20070112_1, which names 17 'world class' Canadian wines, a couple of which come from the Okanagan. In short, we will taste when we venture Okanaganwards at the end of the month. Watch this space...

Jerez de la Frontera, now there was Shangri La. I took my father to Andalucia in 1990. My father considers Leeds exotic, so boarding a plane and actively seeking out a country where a foreign language is spoken was pretty terrifying for him. And whilst he enjoys a wee dram, his idea of a good time is to be tucked up in bed by about 10.30 after 10 minutes worth of Frederick Forsyth. This didn't sit terribly well with Spanish culture. But my explanations of 'la marcha' fell on stony ground. He was not to be moved, until we arrived at Jerez de la Frontera... Bodega after bodega serving vast quantities of different sherries, any year, any producer. ¡Ay Caramba! Dad loosened up a fair amount. I am looking for some Pedro Ximenez here. When I find it, I will let you know.

Another Shangri La for me was the Solar do Porto in Oporto. Go there. I wept, however, as I was with a Portuguese friend, who, whilst being an amiable and beautiful travelling companion, also happened to be teetotal. I have since racked my brains and I think I have only ever had one other teetotal friend. Why was I not in Oporto with a fellow port worshipper? Even my father would have been an acceptable companion! How could this have happened to me? I drank alone...

But, let's get back to the present. I need to state publicly that Condrieu is my favourite white wine. On Sommelier's bithday, we enjoyed a bottle of Guigal 2003. Truly world class. Shangri La La La La La.

A Fairview of the Okanagan

I must say I am always the first to denigrate our local BC product, and I do see that from Tawney's (and Sommelier's) posts I am not alone. We have together resisted any seduction into the peculiar provincial 'culture'. We generally contended it was inferior product, certainly for the price (or cost).

There is a possibility that my views could change. This of course will surprise friends and family, and certainly hearten my enemies.

I recently spent a number of days on the Okanagan estate of Screwtop and family. It was a rather charmed tenure, with a few certainties: fine weather, refreshing white not later than 5pm, two sunsets due to the low mountain to the west, and the rediscovery of Led Zeppelin from the passing boats long after the white was drained.

We did, also, visit a winery or two, which gave me a small insight into the business. This is, if you want the wine, you should visit the winery.

I will not claim that I can defend the quality, or price of these vintages. However, I can say that I tasted some pretty good stuff. But one would never get it in the liquor store. It seems that most of it is sold right off the estate. And so it could escape attention. I will give one example.

We visited Fairview Estates. This is a small winery, perhaps 6 or 7 acres, which apparently is a good terroir, etc. etc. These sell in a number of restaurants, but it seems the proprietor has no difficulty in getting his modest volumes of stock moved through his own sales, either at the winery or wider direct delivery.

In fact, so smitten was I with this concept that I bought a half dozen bottles. Perhaps it was the light-headedness from the tasting, or his fine suggestions on ways to commit murder with a wine press, or most probably that I liked it, but i found myself walking out with a bottles that I cannot open for at least a year. That is (for me) deep commitment to the cause. I will stack these '05 Cabernet Merlot faithfully beside the '03 bordeaux and the '04 rhone in my closet, swelling my burgeoning wine collection to something in the neighbourhood of 14 bottles.

It does seem that there might be decent and appropriately valued wines to be enjoyed from our native soils. I do think that the Okanagan question deserves revisiting. Or visiting.

Summer sipping.

Our fridge is currently out on the deck as the kitchen floor is being varnished. We are considering allowing it to stay there filled with alcoholic beverages some of which might include the following:
i Nicolas Feuillatte champagne - all types and vintages welcome. ( My first choice!)
ii Summer sipping Fransola - a Miguel Torres wine, Sauvignon Blanc and parellada, no cat's piss here, although a hint of gooseberry...
iii Some Tio Pepe - pretty timeless. Sherry is the new sherry apparently. More on this soon, although I have to refer Gonzalez Byass to the accent police. ¿Qué pasa?
My mother always drank Tía María when she was wearing 'Love' by Norman Hartnell. We were generally in The Astley Arms, Seaton Delaval, when the scent made an outing. Neither Norman nor María will be joining us in Kits however...

The following will not be receiving fridge space:
i Chinon - after an EXECRABLE bottle in Paris. (Good cooking wine though, doesn't change colour. Great option for poached pears.)
ii Any Rosé - although I could make an exception for Nicolas Feuillatte or Laurent Perrier
iii Anything from BC.
Cheers.

Talking about wine

"Great people talk about ideas, average people talk about things, and small people talk about wine," Fran Lebowitz once said.

And so the article begins. I am assuming she knew nothing to write about wine, and didn't have any good jokes. And yes, my dear reader, the irony is intended.

In the article there are thoughts on the language used to describe wine.

http://www.slate.com/id/2168406

Obviously the writer has never heard of The Bottle, and has yet to sip on the sagacity of Sommelier, has never wrapped his tongue around the linguistic lashings of Tawney, nor has he lingered anywhere on the transcontinental trail of Screwtop. Which means he probably started by reading Corked's posts.

Tapas

The bon voyage festivities with Tawney and Sommelier and unspecified guest (but note, not date for Corked) involved Tapas and Rioja. Also note these are not the names of other contributor to The Bottle, but actual Tapas and Rioja. The hosting pair are off to the UK and Bordeaux this weekend hope primarily to find material for your reading pleasure.

I would look upon their adventure with envy had I not done a similar tour in May (the first day of which you might have read, the remaining time seemingly difficult to recall). Actually, who am I kidding, I still look upon it with envy.

Anyway, back to T & R. Food was, as ever, a culinary spectacle involving chorizo, shrimp, smoked ham, tortilla, cheese and quince, greek salad and more.

We got down to the business of wine, after Tawney grilled me about the prices of the Barolo from the first night in Piedmont. I don't want to take away any of Screwtop's thunder, so I will leave that for still another day. It is nice to know that my writing about wine (also known as fiction) has some dramatic appeal.

We started out with some white rioja, which the person at the wine store said it was the same rioja but with the skins removed. They recommended a bottle of 2000 Cyrano. It was around $23 in the wine store.

It actually was pretty good right out of the bottle, without much breathing. The taste linger further as it got some oxygen. It had a strong nose, which I am sure why a Spanish name resorted to a French name like Cyrano, for it is indeed a long way from Bergerac.

In any case, we polished off a few bottles of that, capping the evening with a bit of Kirsh of some sort (my attention to detail in the food and wine is spectacular, as I am sure you have noticed, in my postings. It seems I tend to focus on other details, like the cherries on the tablecloth, which I think might make the topic of another posting).

In the absence of any further interesting tablecloths, and subsequent postings, I wish our intrepid explorers bon voyage into the French sun. I hope they take lots of time for tannin.

Piedmont Calling

Whilst Corked and Screwtop were tasting Barolo and Nebbiolo in situ, surrounded by the warm terracota welcome of aged Piedmont architecture, we decided to hold our own taste of Italia, surrounded the wet wooden shingles of Pacific North West.
First off, a fresh and dry Prosecco from Colli Tevigiani (North west Italy rather than the North East, admittedly) to accompany some fine antipasti. Next an Italian red I've not drunk before, a Ragitello from Mario Norante. It describes itself as a simple Biferno Rosso 2002 ( excellent value costing around twenty dollars from a Vancouver Independent wine shop). In fact it stood up better than the Barbera D'Alba Superiore from 2003 which didn't have the depth or smoothness that you like for and usually recieve. Both accompanied a Parmigiana made in honour of a vegetarian guest. In reserve for the cheese I held back a lovely bottle of Brunello di Montalcino Riserva 2000 from Frescobaldi, being prepared to step south and embrace the Tuscan Sangiovese. With some cave aged Pecorino, a mature Talegio and a fine Torta di Mascarpone e Gorgonzola the Brunello delivered. Although still young it is drinking very well now, supple and complex, deep ruby in colour and layered in taste.

Under Tawney's influence (always a good thing) I was persuaded to abandon the Italian theme at the meal's conclusion and opened a fine Banyuls, rather like a light Tawney port, from the south of France. I believe Tawney is due to post a report on a number of southern French digestifs from Rasteau to Rivesaltes so I leave the detail to her. Save to say that, despite being half way round the world from the Southern Mediterranean, by the end of the night we were more than amply there in spirit.

Where's the beef?

Some of you might be irritated by my penchant for using questions as titles for entries. I crave your indulgence...
Screwtop, I am dying to hear about the prices in Piedmont. Bring it on honey!
For my own part, I consumed way too much 10 year old Taylor Fladgate on Friday evening, which effectively put me out of action for the whole weekend. Time was, I wouldn't have turned a hair, now I have great difficulty completing a sentence with a subordinate clause. The hair of the dog almost put me right on Saturday evening. A fine bottle of 'Clos des Fées', and it might be said that those fairies had been trampling blithely in the Côtes de Roussillon. Well balanced, honeyed but not oversweet, with a lingering Burgundian aftertaste, although it did propel me into bed rather swiftly once the sun had gone down.
The proprietor, one Hervé Bizeul, has his own rather amusing blog http://www.closdesfees.com/blog/. Fomerly one of France's foremost sommeliers, here is is cultivating his own ' jardin'. I need a vineyard. I really do. What do I have to do to get one?

Post scriptum.
Whoever regulates BC wines has decided that there are far too many animals on the labels. Apparently the liquor stores are concerned about the menagerie-like quality of the shelves, so no more owls, quails, grouse, elephants(?)

Progressing from Provence to Piedmont

The late-planned meeting with Screwtop and Grigio in Grasse almost didn't happen. It took nine hours and 100 euros more than expected to get there from Vancouver, and the great laid plans to wallow in perfume for an evening were substituted by a rosé nightcap.

Still, it's the south of France, and all was forgotten when we languished on the Cote D'Azur. The main stop was Cannes, which was gearing up for the film festival. A winery has issued a rose in honour of the 60th festival year this year, so we had to order it at lunch. The label was a faceless anime woman, and we were told it was from eastern provence. Not much else to say, I'm afraid.

It was this alcoholic fortification that allowed Grigio to tackle the grand prix circuit in Monaco. The track and bleachers were up and ready for the race at the end of the month, but the roads had not been closed yet, which gave us the opportunity to test out the circuit. A bit of nifty manouvering at the eastern hairpin allowed us to pass the German tour bus and we made it around in 17 minutes 44.257 seconds. This would have placed us about 16 and a half minutes off pole position pace, but it was exhilarating nonetheless.

And then it was on to rally stage one. Screwtop really wanted to get to Alba by nightfall, but we figured we would get as far as we could before darkness so we could find a place to stay. E74 heading north from Ventimilia is quite a driver's road, with narrow twists and switchbacks and villages clinging to the edges of mountains. Alba was a bit far off, so we set our sights on Cuneo, the first city on the edge of the Piedmont plains.

Our plan was to ride into town, unholster our corkscrew and take on any Barolo that would dare challenge us. But that's not Cuneo. We should have known with the proliferation of Italian flags from every window, but the whole area seemed a nationalist's dream. The town architecture was more Swiss or Austrian than regional Italian, with its six storied blocks and arcades. The extra wide boulevard leading up to a huge town square seemed ideal for a few fascist rallies and marches. Our short trip from Cannes landed us more in Riefenstahl than in Fellini. The town seems to be the hub of the industrial region of Piedmont, and one would expect a little conservative flavour. But I would not have been surprised, in the post-culinary stroll, to run into Mussolini, or Fini, or at least the heels of their boots.

And so we decided to trek the extra 30k to Fonsetta.

As much as I may recommend you ride through Cuneo, I would urge you to stay in Fonsetta. More specifically, in a small 3 star place called Regis Hotel. What we didn't know at the time was that it was connected to a winery of the same name. What we discovered first, was a very charming courtyard of what seems like a farmhouse, with mature vines overhanging the outside tables, a few dusty pre-WWII Fiats and Bentleys in the barn, and restaurant and room decor sui generis, or at least Italian. Once we sat down at the restaurant, which seemed (typically) overly formal, we were presented with our first bottle of wine. We were hoping for a wine list, but they only serve their own wine. Since our Italian language skills are as well developed as democracy in Cuneo, it would have been pointless to tell us this from the outset, but we did piece it together from a series of familiar syllables, grunts and gestures. The kitchen turned out a fairly respectable set of veal dishes (ravioli and scallopini, although my veal barolo could have done with a bit more of Mussolini's heel), and our second bottle of wine we convinced our server to upgrade us from their stock 2006 Dulcetta D'Alba to their more enjoyable 2004 Langhe Nebbiolo. This second bottle was exponentially more enjoyable, although the tannins were still very much a presence which was not a good mixture with my cold. I will leave the description of the wines and the winery to a more able Screwtop, although from his clipped New York Times article on the Piedmont wines I would have to agree with the description of the Langhe's tannins as being 'racy'.

The true enjoyment came when we decided to retire with a final bottle of wine. Our questions and note-taking (by the pretentious moi) might have convinced our hosts that we were experienced enough to take on responsibility of their more developed stock. As I pleaded for another bottle of Langhe, the proprietor pointed at the bottle and said "good", gestured for me to hold on, and said "very good". And he returned a few moments later with another bottle.

And it was then that our day was finally crowned. Our miles of driving, of Cote D'Azur traffic, of endless bridges and tunnels, of near misses while being passed by Fiat Punto's in blind corners, of anxious kilometers at dusk, of confusing menus, had finally come to fruition. I suppose part of us wanted to like it so much because our expectations were lowered by our earlier journey through Piedmont. And in fact Screwtop had asked for it at the outset of our meal, but we had not garnered their respect as yet. But into my hands were thrust three glasses, a corkscrew and a bottle of 2003 Barolo. I actually think they were discussing the year to give us, and I heard 2004, but it ended up as a 2003. The tannins were pretty well gone, I forgot about my cold, Grigio was seduced into staying up another half hour and a few glasses, and Screwtop almost offered to throw out his brown shirt for another bottle.

We have no idea what the bill will be, and I expect Screwtop will outline some of the prices. For the record, he figured, in euros, 10 for the first, 30 for the second and 50 for the third. Grigio concurred. While this was going on, I snuck in an extra glass.

Bon voyage!

Corked and Screwtop are fortunate enough to be meandering up the Rhône Valley - oh happy day. They should make 'La Pyramide Fernand Point' in Vienne their final destination, if they fancy some seriously posh nosh. Fernand Point was one of the fathers of modern French cuisine and quite a character. The first chef ever to receive three Michelin stars in back 1933, he closed his restaurant during the war rather than serve the Nazi invaders. Paul Bocuse served under him as did many others. Fernand passed away in 1955, but the current chef does not disappoint. We spent a very memorable evening there some seven or eight years ago...
En route up, check out Château Mont Redon - www.chateaumontredon.fr - one of my favourite Châteauneuf du pape. Further up, around Ampuis in Condrieu country, check out René Rostaing's offerings. In a former life, I had six bottles of his Côte Rôtie, can't remember the vintage. I wonder where they are now? Château du Rozay is beautifully situated and the Condrieu does not disappoint. Cuilleron is another rising star. For a little daytrip and a bit of history head off to Malleval in the Parc du Pilat and drink in the patina of old age.

What's in a Vintage?

I had the happy fortune of being young(ish) and single and therefore with a sizeable amount of disposable income in the early 1990's. Politically it was not the most encouraging of times - Major's Britain - highway cone hotlines and the Citizen's Charter come to mind. Therefore heavy drinking was, by necessity, the order of the day. My parents had moved to France in the late 1980's and, surprise, surprise, had chosen Bordeaux as the region to settle in. They bought me a mixed case of mainly reds from the area including a few Grand Crus and told me to put it aside - lay it down. All the ingedients were now set for the discovery of 1990.

Upto that point I had consumed wine much as any twenty something lad about town would - namely how to maximise one's consumption as often as possible. But when I started to drink some of the Graves and Medocs and even St.Juliens my parents had proferred it was like entering a different realm. The Medoc reds I was drinking and buying were from very good years -1988 and 89 - still affordable in the early 90's - although of course I was drinking them way too young. But I had stumbled on a crucial lesson in drinking wine very early on - the importance of the year. Then came the 1990 vintage. Everything was good. You could'nt produce a bad bottle of red wine in the Bordeaux region that year unless you were actively trying to sabotage your own production. And of course the further up the scale you went...the Crus Bourgeios had the depth and complexity of the Crus Classes and the Crus Classes themselves.....well I managed to buy some Chateau Leoville Las Cases, St Julien ( i still have a couple of bottles stashed away) that were simply the best I've ever tasted. And once the trick was learn't I bought up every decent 1990 bottle that crossed my path and was just about affordable (from a single bottle of Leoville Barton discovered in a Noth East Co-Op to just about everything from the Medoc in 1990 that Majestic in Chalk Farm stocked).

Looking back (and alas all my 1990's have now been drunk) on a vintage that is now 17 years old (and some will argue only now starting to deliver up the full complexities of its top wines) I feel very fortunate. I got to know some of the greatest wines in the world at a time when I could still afford them and from a year some claim as the best in the 20th century. My taste changed for ever. I'm not saying you must drink a Paulliac or St Estephe from a good year with every meal (not unless you're a Russian gangster). But you know how good wine can be. In the right year, in the right place and in the right skilled hands.

And the other lesson gleaned from a decade's pursuit of a great vintage? That of the humble agricultural one - at one level wine is just a crop and as such subject to the complete vagaries and variables of the farming year. Yes, the mark of great viticuleurs is their ability to produce top quality wine despite dfficult conditions - to achieve a consistency over the years. But what matters as much is what the winemaker can never control - a heat wave all summer, no early frosts, no heavy rain during the 'vendage', enough rain at other times. In short a real vintage

What's in an umlaut?

Corked very graciously offered a British Columbia Gewürztraminer selection to accompany some fairly spicy dishes last weekend. All from 2006. Of particular interest to me was the use of the umlaut, or rather the lack of it.
Blasted Church offered a highly acidic number and couldn't quite decide whether to go with the umlaut or not on the label, so plumped for both versions. An interesting approach perhaps, but sadly the wine was equally undecided.

The Kettle Valley winery - whose Viognier I do have some time for- promised me 'pink grapefruit, rose petal and lychee'. The 2006 Gewurztraminer was frighteningly colourless and delivered none of these. Kettle Valley ditched that umlaut along with the spice.

Pentâge, whose name, I suspect, should sound like dressage and not bondage, furnished a very respectable Gewürz, good nose, nicely spicy and long on the palate. This was by far and away the best of the three. I strongly suspect that the superfluous circumflex played a major part in the vinification.

From Carlsberg Special to Champagne.

In the seventies I remember being fascinated by the small bubble in the figure of eight thingummy on the top of my father's demijohn. Boots winekits were all the rage and the product was consumed quickly in our house. I upset the bucket of home brewed lager once and the house stank of yeast for the rest of our time there. Oh well...
I spent much time during that decade and the early eighties consuming industrial quantities of Carlsberg Special Snakebite or Pernod and blackcurrant, mostly in a shed on the seaside promenade. It was on a school exchange visit to France that drinking took on a new complexion. Wine with food that tasted sublime - yes please! And I have never looked back...
I don't profess to be expert, but I know what I like and that I will gladly share.
So let's get on with it guys. Start naming names.

The Wine Wanderers

I can say with certainty that I represent the neophyte constituency of the THE BOTTLE. As such, my ambition is to develop my knowledge and taste, when given a choice of wines, beyond a preference for the larger bottle.

And so I find myself in better company with Screwtop and Sommelier. I am sure we will be adding other monikers of fermented prose to the racks. In the meantime, I would like to add to the philosophy of the bottle.

Firstly, out of principle I am in agreement with manifestos, especially one concerning wine. Perhaps that makes us a modern version of the Champagne Socialist, except that we are not restricting ourselves to such a narrow sphere. And like Orwell, we reject wine nationalism, we reject the power in the concentration of taste, we reject the usurpation of the language of the critic. Drinkers Unite!

Secondly, in order to reject Parker and to restore true criticism of wine, and in fact to support true criticism itself, I suggest that our manifesto reject any scale, measurement, or any form of arbitrary ranking of wines. The growth of such arbitrariness has removed discourse from our public spaces. As the numbers take the place of communication, so our understanding, appreciation and involvement wanes. Quality then becomes not about enjoyment and the relationship with the wine so well described by Sommelier, but merely the superlative. This is the best wine. How do we know? It's a Parker 100. Or, more frighteningly, it's more expensive than your wine.

Let's speak in ordinary English, free from meaningless metaphor and superiority supported by posture rather than debate. Let us understand where differences are in the quality of grape and production, and where they are constructed in the 'quality' of taste.

Thirdly, there shall be no prejudice. I must say, I love to be snobbish about wine, not only for the semblance of understanding, but also as a way of cutting down the endless choice in the wine store. However, why not celebrate the $2 plonk found in the remainder bin, as long as we know, following from the second point, why we are celebrating it? Is that not the joy of this - as in life. Is there there no serendipity in Chardonnay? I say we reject Sidewaysisms. I say that we want more Merlot. I say that we put Australian wine on the Barbie. I say that we find reason in Reisling. I say yes to all creeds and colours of wine.

This is not just The Bottle. This is the start of a revolution. It is the restoration of civility, of cooperation, of understanding. This is the return not just to wine drinking, but to just wine drinking. I challenge all of you to have THE BOTTLE.

100 Bottles of Champagne on the (Great) Wall

Given its blistering growth and frenetic energy, Shanghai today feels like New York City circa 1999. Anything is possible.

As alluded to on my previous posting, I made several pilgrimages to Jean-Georges on my recent trip to Shanghai. Was it the view of Pudong morphing across the water? Was it the magnificent menu, French-based, with Asian influences? Was it the wine list? I am not sure that even I could tell you.

On our first meal at Jean-Georges, the maestro himself was in the kitchen. We had a fabulous lunch (the foie gras "brulee" is not to be missed!) accented by an always-great Jaboulet "Parallele 45". The excellent and approachable sommelier, Yvonne, also let us sample some local wine. We tried a Merlot and a Chardonnay, both by Grace Vineyard, about which I had read in the Wine Spectator. Um, let me just be diplomatic by saying that I applaud the effort, but in my humble opinion, Chinese wines still have a bit of a long march to go.

We popped into Jean-Georges for a drink the next afternoon (we were in the building lunching at the Whampoa Club--also recommended). "Om", the bar manager, greeted us with a weary (and wary?) look in her eyes.

"What's wrong?"
"It was a late one," she slumped.
"Really? Why?"
"It was our 3rd Anniversary."
"Sounds like fun."
"It was," she began, "100 bottles of Champagne fun!"

100 bottles! We cursed the fact that we weren't invited. Ah, well, maybe for the 4th Anniversary, Om?

Shanghai is champagne-crazy. In addition to the Jean-Georges blow-out, we witnessed a champagne party at Glamour Bar across the street the next night, hosted by one of the Champagne houses (my bad for not recalling which!).

We only caught the tail-end, but I would wager that the scale of consumption eclipsed even that of the Jean Georges fete. They are burning through the bubbly on the Bund!

If I owned a champagne house (maybe next lifetime?) I would be rubbing my hands in glee at the wild, wild East. Laissez les bons temps rouler!

why write about wine?

To start with, wine is above all a shared pleasure and what better than to write amongst friends about what is good and what is worthy of the spitoon. Most writing about wine collapses into simple description - an attempt, always extremely difficult, to render into language the non-verbal subtleties of taste. But of course taste in wine is deeply personal and extremely dependent on context. To set something so ephemeral down in the black and white of prose often ends up looking a pretentious failure. Written on the wind (hic, sic wine).

But wine writing does matter. Look at the example of Robert Parker, a passionate enthusiast, who has dominated the market, literally, because of the eloquence of his taste. His words have huge economic impact, can make or break certain vineyards, triumph key vintages. But, of course, his taste is as partial and limited as any single one man's must inevitably be. Without being personally offensive lets look a little deeper into the Parker bouquet - its perfume of mystery as the French might term it. His palate is for red over white, and for the dark over the light. He tends to look for and praise wines that aim for a purple darkness they might as well be black. He favours the heavy fruit and the strong use of oak. In otherwords, he seeks to pull wine towards his own yardstick of success. To the dismay of many, winemakers throughout the world are only to happy to follow such prescriptive writing, creating wines in accordance with an internationally accepted standard. This can create hollow parodies of wine - reds seeking to dress themselves up in the colour and texture of another wine, desperately applying large amounts of oak to give the appearance of depth and character.

Therefore to inaugurate our wine blog I'd like to propose a brief anti-Parker manifesto. Let wine be itself - let us not seek to homogenise or construct some table of taste. Our blog aims to celebrate the local and the different and the authentic. At the risk of sounding over philosophical what matters about wine is the meeting of history, culture and pleasure in the single instant - everything that has gone into the bottle before the bottle has gone (and lingers well afterwards). History - 'the terroir' - what has grown there in the past, what grape varietals the land and climate suits, as well as the history of its own past successes and failures; Culture - the type of wine grown, its place and purpose - in other words the relative ambition or modesty of the wine made, its relation to its owners and the nature and the size of their business (family owned or multi-national conglomerate); Pleasure - that of course wine drinking is a highly libidinous activity, a pleasure released and shared each time a bottle is opened.

Now my fellow drinkers all that must be worth writing about.

Two Vines (Two Times!) in Shanghai

Why fly half-way around the world to drink a wine that is essentially local? Why, value, of course!

Two weeks ago I headed back to what is probably the wildest, most dynamic city on earth (no slight intended to my former home of NYC!)...Shanghai. My two buddies from San Francisco, Dan and Michael met me shortly after my arrival, and we proceeded to dine at "Sasha's", an atmospheric circa-1920 mansion on the cusp of the French Concession.

Dan and I ordered some spicy Singaporean Laksa, and so were inclined to go for either a Syrah or a Shiraz. Despite a plethora of Aussie options, we chose the Columbia Crest 2003 "Two Vines" Shiraz (the wine menu, impressively, had scores and comments for various wines. According to the menu, Robert Parker had tagged this wine a great value, and bestowed upon it 90 pts). If I remember correctly, it cost about 400 RMB ($50 USD), and was indeed a great pairing with the Laksa (spicy, but less-over-the-top than most Shiraz's). As fine as it was, it was overshadowed by its sibling the very next day.

Jet-lag and a veeery late first night in Shanghai notwithstanding, we made our way to "New Heights" at 3 on the Bund the next evening. The views were, as always, utterly stunning. Alas, it was too cold to sit outside, so we made due with a somewhat-less-stunning interior view.

Dan and Michael live in Mill Valley, and hence are apt to lobby for New World Cab-Sav's and Sav-Blancs whenever given the option. Fresh off of our Shiraz hurrah the night before, we jumped at the opportunity to order a Two Vines Cab (also a 2003). It was even better than the Shiraz (complex, very well-balanced), and it paired well with a range of hearty appetizers and Michael's pasta.

It was encouraging to find what is close to a "local" wine in Shanghai--most of us bloggers spend most of our time in British Columbia; until B.C. wines start showing up in Asia, Washington State is a reasonable prox(imit)y.

Next posting I shall expound on our Shanghai dining and wining experiences, and hopefully talk a little bit about this past weekend in Vegas.

Double happiness!

What is the point?

So...the three of us have been talking about doing this for some time: creating a blog devoted to our common passion: wine. Now, we just need to figure out what, exactly, that means!

I hope that we will discuss not only the pretty obvious topic of wines which we have recently encountered, but broaden our scope to cover the range of our interactions with wines. Areas that I would hope to see us explore include:

1. Wines we have recently sampled (our impressions on taste/quality/price, with ideally a little bit of information on the winemaker)
2. Restaurants where we have had the opportunity to try wines. We would hope to highlight restaurants offering lists which are particularly interesting and/or affordable
3. Wine travel! Two of us are based in British Columbia; I would expect to see some write-ups on local vineyards.
   
4. Also, as all of us will be making our way to France this summer, I expect that we will convey some of our experiences with wines, foods and scenic travels in Europe

The blog will evolve, and our mission mutate over time, I am certain. But this seems like some good food (drink?) for thought, to begin with!

The beginning

Here we go. The justification for being drunk most of my life.
Cheers