Le Monde Refosco 2014

The best and worst thing about working in wine sales is dealing with the customers. Experience and a bit of psychology have taught me to gauge how people will treat my offer of help when they’re looking for wine, though sometimes they still manage to surprise me (but not often). Possibly my favorite interaction in the last year was a middle-aged guy who was looking for Napa Cabernet and questioned every single thing I told him about the wines I suggested in an almost combative manner. It turned out he’d lost his sense of smell and that’s why he was so adamant about questioning my descriptors on every wine I suggested. It was both intimidating and galvanizing because his questions made me really delve deep into my memories about certain wines so I could give him a more complete idea about the wines I suggested rather than the half-assed BS that I sometimes spout when I can tell people won’t care. I wound up talking him into a 2012 Heitz Napa Valley Cabernet and it turned out to be a new favorite for him. When I next encountered him, he had two bottles of the same wine in his hands and actually apologized for, in his words, being rather unpleasant before (to which I assured him I’d actually really enjoyed talking to him and he’d been my favorite customer in a while).

Anyway, what I’m getting at is that even though I might deal with several unpleasant people in an eight hour shift, all it takes is one awesome interaction to make it all worth it. If I can make just one customer trust that I won’t steer them wrong and buy what they might view as a potentially weird wine that they know nothing about, then my night is made. Lately that “weird” wine has been 2014 Le Monde Refosco from Fruili.

Refosco dal Peduncolo Rosso is a red grape indigenous to Northern Italy. The wines it produced were praised by the Roman writer Pliny the Elde and though he never got to try this particular wine, I’m sure it would have lived up to his standards. I’d had bottles with this grape blended with other varietals, like Merlot, but this was the first time I’d tried a wine that was 100% Refosco. It was full-bodied with rich notes of baked raspberry, blackberry and black olives. Bold tannins and a hint of acidity led to medium, yet satisfying finish. It was fun wine for under $20 and one I was glad I’d taken home.

Canadian wine

My parents recently returned from a trip to Canada. Before they left I'd made them watch a video produced by the Guild of Sommeliers about Canadian wine and made them promise to bring me back a couple of bottles since icewine is really all you can find down here. I also insisted that they branch out and drink Canadian wine rather than sticking with more familiar labels from California or other places. Despite this causing some issues with their traveling companions they mostly stuck to my orders and were very happy to have done so.

The Canadian wine industry suffered thanks to prohibition in the early 20th Century and it's taken them a bit longer to get back on their feet. It wasn't until almost the 1990s that it really started to flourish again. Ontario and British Columbia are the main wine-producing regions in the country and though Ontario is the larger producer, most of the wines my parents drank (and the two they brought back for me) were both from the Okanagan Valley in British Columbia, which is one of the world's most northerly wine regions.

My parents wound up bringing me back a Riesling and a Cabernet Franc. The Gehringer Brothers Private Reserve Dry Riesling 2016 was the bigger hit with both Kye and me. It started out bursting with notes of green apple, golden pear, kiwi and white peach. As it opened up the acidity became much more prevalent along with a honeyed richness we both really enjoyed. I really love wines that change and open up with each glass and this riesling was definitely one of those. 

The Poplar Grove Cabernet Franc 2014 was also lovely, but definitely needed to be decanted (meaning I got to feel super fancy busting out our decanter). It spent 21 months in French oak barrels and was further aged in bottle for 18 months. It had notes of baked blackberry, raspberry and red currant accompanied by hints of cedar and baking spices. Firm tannins and medium acidity left a lingering finish after each sip.

Both the wines were wonderful and it made me hope that more Canadian wines will make their way into the Texas market soon. 

30th Birthday Wines

I turned 30 a couple of weeks ago and was rather disappointed that I didn’t immediately turn into a withered, old hag (the way some people react to the “big three-oh”, I’d naturally assumed that was what would happen). I’d really been looking forward to being able to wave a cane and croak at kids to get the hell off my lawn, though I suppose I could still do that, but it wouldn’t be the same seeing as how I still look like I’m under 21 (no, it’s not a blessing, it’s just annoying), plus I don’t really have a lawn.

Despite that letdown, it was a great birthday since I got to spend it drinking some rather incredible wines (and oh yeah, there were a couple of awesome people there too who also made it great, but the wines definitely stole the show).

The night before my birthday, Kye opened a 2015 Yves Cuilleron “La Petite Côte” Condrieu and a 2012 Bernard Levet “Les Journaries” Côte-Rôtie, both of which he had me blind.* I wound up calling the Condrieu a Spanish Albarino (in my defense it was still very cold when he poured it, after it warmed up a bit it was obviously viognier, but we both still gave me crap about it). I did better with the red though, the second I got that whiff of funky barnyard and smoky meat I knew it could only be Rhone. I went a bit too South with my call (Gigondas), but wasn't totally unhappy with my call.** So we got to toast my birthday at midnight with wines from what might be my favorite region (Rhone, obviously) and all was right in the world.

Then the day after my birthday I got a package from Rare Wine Co. that contained some surprises: a 1987 Lopez de Heredia Reserva Tondonia and a 1987 D’Oliveiras Bual Madeira. My parents felt bad that they were missing my birthday to go on a trip to Canada so they’d conspired with Kye to get me a bottle of something that I wouldn’t ever think to get for myself and they nailed it. Kye, being the amazing dude that he is, threw in the Madeira as an extra.

Lopez de Heredia has been one of my favorite producers ever since Kye introduced me to their incredible wines a few years ago. They’re one of the few Rioja producers who still use the traditional American oak barrels instead of French, which I tend to prefer in that region’s wines. Also, they age their wines for longer than is required for the region (the most current vintage for their youngest wine is 2008). Despite the lack of an ah-so, Kye didn’t have any issues with opening the bottle and we even decanted it the “proper” sommelier way, with a lit candle behind the bottle in order to see the sediment and an actual glass decanter. It was delicious, still retained the red fruit notes, had that hint of coconut that you get from American oak and had nicely balanced acidity and tannins. It was probably one of the best wines I’ve ever gotten to drink.

The D’Oliveiras Bual Madeira was strictly from Kye since we both love Madeira, but can’t always find that great of a selection in retail store here since most people just buy it for cooking. It was super nutty, almost reminded me a bit of sherry and had a sweetness that perfectly complimented that. I didn’t wind up finishing the bottle until almost a week later and though it had become a bit more acidic by then it was still amazing.

So that was my 30^th birthday and there’s nothing about it I can complain about. The people I spent it with and the wines we opened made it perfect.

*Meaning a blind tasting, where you must determine varietal, region and vintage a wine might be based solely on what you get from sight, smell and taste. And no, it’s not magic or bullshit, if you have the knowledge and practice enough it’s totally possible (though definitely not easy)

**Kye was also a bit offended that I’d think he’d get me an Albarino and Gigondas for my birthday, but he quickly got over that

                                                     

Gryphus Carménère 2016

At my first liquor store job, I had a sales rep (from some random company I can’t remember now) who seemed to always have very interesting descriptors for the wines he was peddling. The most memorable of those was his selling point for Carménère (all his wines were Chilean), a varietal he’d always claim was a “panty-dropper”. To this day I have yet to have proof of this and I mostly suspect he was an idiot who probably hadn’t even tasted the wines he was selling, but it’s always stuck with me, mainly because it is hilarious.

Carménère has a very interesting background: it started as one of the six grapes allowed for France’s Boredeaux AOP, but these days it is virtually extinct in the region. After phylloxera devastated much of France’s vineyards in the mid-1800s, it wasn’t really replanted due to its unpopularity and thus it became the “lost” grape of Bordeaux. Luckily, cuttings of this varietal wound up in Chile, where for years it was mistaken for Merlot. It wasn’t until DNA research in 1994 proved that much of what Chilean wine-makers thought was Merlot was actually Carménère and since 1998 the country has embraced the varietal that is now considered the national grape of Chile.

I’ve found that wines made with Carménère are usually very interesting (though not quite “panty-dropping”). They tend to be medium-bodied with distinct green pepper and spicy notes that pair very well with heavy meat dishes. For quite a while I was under the impression that it was a varietal that needed to be paired with food (mostly because that's what everyone always told me), but since then I’ve started to enjoy it all on its own. I’ve had Montes’ Purple Angel (a beautiful expression of this grape from the Colchagua Valley), but since I can’t afford $70-ish wine all the time (or ever, really), I’ve sought out other, more affordable Chilean Carménères.

The one I’ve been most impressed with recently was the Gryphus Carménère, a very affordable wine from the Maule Valley in (it probably goes without saying, but heck, I’ll say it anyway) Chile. It is 100% Carménère with 40% aged in used French oak barrels. This wine starts off bursting with flavors of black cherry, blackberry and plum which are then quickly followed by notes green and black pepper. It has a medium finish with smooth tannins and a slight acidity. It had surprising complexity and elegance that I don’t usually expect in wines that are so inexpensive (under $10). This wine is more than enough proof that Carménère has found a very good home in Chile… and maybe it really could be a panty-dropper (though I’m still waiting on more concrete evidence of that before I start using it as a descriptor).