Sunday, May 27, 2012

The Dog-Days: 2003 in Europe

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Posted by Burke Morton On June - 18 - 2010

The dog-days of summer are relieving themselves on my front door. I hurried into the house just now, trying to elude the heat, and started thinking about the 2003 vintage in Europe. I don't want to sound like I think fondly of it--no one should, given the humanitarian toll exacted upon Europe, France in particular. Although many fine, idiosyncratic wines emerged that year, it was a tough vintage overall, as Europe hadn't experience that sort of heat in anyone's memory. More than a week of over 100ºF across a mostly non-air condidtioned continent...this wasn't good for anyone.

The wines of this vintage are difficult to read in a long-term/short-term sense, but the conventional wisdom is that the best made wines from '03 are still not worth keeping for an extended period (20-30 years--or more), because the acid levels never had much of a chance to build up, as grapes ripened quickly and were only minimally exposed to the cool temperatures of autumn that encourage acid development. Pundits got hold of this and pronounced that these wines would have unbelievably short lives, sounding more like a doctor telling a cancer patient how long he has to live. However, conventional wisdom regarding deleterious weather effects on wine is, at best, shoddy, and the generalized prognostication is thrown off a bit by those who dealt well the vintage conditions. However, there were a few European producers whose are always reliable that didn't get the vintage right, and what with all the heat and dryness coming out of nowhere, they're hardly to be blamed.

The 2003 vintage was relatively successful in Spain, the Rhône Valley, Languedoc-Roussillon, Provence, Puglia, and Sicily--all places that are used to hot summers. The main worries of '03 for me were Austria, middle-to-northern France (especially Burgundy, Loire, Champagne, and Alsace), and Germany. And to narrow it down further, two varieties concerned me: the Pinot family and Riesling, which don't generally perform well in oppressive conditions without some extraordinary and prescient vineyard management. Because of the heat, the 2003 vintage produced wines that were larger-than-life with ridiculously thick textures and dense fruit profiles. German Rieslings were unbelievably full-bodied, like Barry Bonds between 1998 and perjuring himself. Burgundy seemed to suffer the most as far as reliability (I know, I know, those of you who follow Burgundy will say that this true in any case): there were far too many jam-on-toast, indistinguishable-from-one-another Red Burgundies from 2003 to permit much plauditory locution. These jam-on-toast wines were actually not bad, but if wine from one Cru tastes exactly like those from another Cru, then one of the principal and most compelling reasons for buying Burgundy is gone. However, the good Burgundies--red or white--possessed both some measure of subtlety and an impertinence that reminded you that they were from a normally cool climate.

Flash forward to now, and the well-made '03 Rieslings from Alsace, Austria, and Germany presently seem to have more acidity than they did through most of 2008. I have had many within the past year that have a surprisingly fresh acidity, such that I now wonder how much longer they'll make it. The 1973 vintage in Germany produced wines that few thought would live long lives, but here they are, still full of vividness and youthful vigor. The weather wasn't so extreme in 1973 as it was in 2003, but we might see a similar evolution (however, I'm not suggesting that you test this out, because if the wines are good now, there is no reason not to drink them). The well-made '03 Burgundies have also proven resilient. The '03 Bourgognes (entry-level wines) that I bought are still a bold and assertive smash, and even continue to have that saucy character I mentioned. This element usually mellows over the course of five years or so in the lower-end wines, but here we are after six years in the bottle and they're still motoring.

Why am I writing about this today? I see many 2003s still in the marketplace. I wonder why that is? I went to four different wine shops today, doing a little survey, and there are many wines from the south of France (mostly Gigondas and some upper-end Côtes-du-Rhônes, but also a few Châteauneuf-du-Papes), the Loire Valley (mostly Vouvray and Savennières, and some sweet wines, but a couple of Sancerres from the cousins Cotat, which are unusually long-lived...for Sancerre), Alsace, Burgundy, and Germany.

Do you still have '03s left in your cellar? Are you seeing them on shelves? I'd snap them up, particularly if you have some idea of quality, because the wines from this vintage may be extreme, but if they were well-made, then I don't doubt they'll be good.

Popularity: 6% [?]

Visions of Angels

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Posted by Burke Morton On May - 20 - 2010

Earlier today, I saw Marcel Guigal sitting in a Toyota Avalon. The luminary of the northern Rhone, right here in River City driving...a Toyota? I rolled down my window and said, "Excuse me, but aren't you--"

"Marcel Guigal?" he finished for me, without a trace of a French accent.

"Um...yeah."

"I get that a lot." Really? I'd expect that if he looked like Clooney or something, but Marcel Guigal? I couldn't wait to see where this was going.

"So, when's the '09 Condrieu going to hit the shelf?" I asked.

"Soon. The Viognier came in more beautifully than I can remember in '09, you know."

"Yeah, but I bet you were saying that in '07 as well."

"True, but I still haven't had a hit such as this one since the one I had in '95--that was another amazing wine."

This guy could play along with the great masters. Was he a spy? Probably. He was sent, of course, to spy on me. Not that I can think of any knowledge I possess that would be of interest to a spy, other than the nuclear launch codes for the Ohio River Valley missile range. The codes change every time I think of a new number. Sometimes I have a hard time keeping up--I have to concentrate hard on NOT thinking of a new number every time we do a missile test, otherwise, unauthorized access alarms go off and you know what a pain that can be, with MPs crawling all over the place, looking at you with raised eyebrows, questioning your immigration status, asking to see your ID badge over and over.

"I hate to take exception with Your Eminence," I said, "but you've had several great vintages of Condrieu in the past 15 years."

"Yes, but none that felt like getting a letter from a lover you are desperate to see, but who has gone away...that '95 was a letter from Celeste, whom I haven't seen in thirty years."

"Unresolved love, huh? So who's the '09 a letter from?"

"Marie-Ange...I can see her now, as she was when we were 16. We were very much in love."

"What happened to her?"

"She moved to Paris."

"And never wrote you?"

"Oh she wrote to me--every other day! But I'm terrible at writing back, and she thought I was losing interest since I only wrote every three or four weeks."

"But did you write good letters?"

"Of course!!! Do you think that I could do anything other than commit my wounded heart to paper for such a one as Marie-Ange?"

This guy is good. "Sorry...I don't know Marie-Ange."

"Surely you have your own Marie-Ange?"

"I do."

"What's her name?"

"She's all around me."

"Her name?"

"Everywhere."

"Everywhere?"

"Even between my fingers."

"Her name?!? Is it Everywhere?"

"No. I cannot name her, but she is there, but only when I'm not looking for her."

"Ah," he said. "I see that you also have visions of angels."

Visions of angels.... I drifted. He continued:

"Mine keep drinking my wine before bottling."

"The angel's share...of course.... Mine give me a wellspring of happiness so consuming and profound...the overall feeling is, oddly enough, sadness."

"Which is how I feel as I see them crowded around my barrels. It's nice to see the angels enjoying my wine, but I could have sold that wine," he said with a laugh that quickly faded. "But that's not what you mean."

"No."

"Do you feel it now?"

"I feel the memory of it."

"That's all I have left of my wines and love letters."

"You're not Marcel Guigal."

"No."

"Then what do you want?"

"It was you who rolled down the window to speak to me."

"I think you're a spy."

"Can I have the launch codes?"

"Can I have some Condrieu?"

"All I've got is Cote-Rotie. They told me that's the first association you'd make."

"I've always been different. I like it now, but I didn't so much in grade school. It's one of those things that helps me keep secrets."

"Are there really launch codes? I was just trying to be clever."

"Is there really any Condrieu? I'm just getting thirsty."

"Fine." He produced, with slight hesitation, a green bottle with a gold label. Guigal La Doriane from 2007. "It's my last bottle. I'm taking one in the groin for you."

I pulled a glass out of my pocket, popped the cork, poured and took a long sniff. Honeysuckle, peaches, almonds, wheat germ?, white flowers...orange blossoms. And tangerine.

"You're also going to have to take one for me on the launch codes," I said, not without kindness.

He smiled a bland smile. "You--okay...why can't I have the launch codes?"

"Because the reason that I am the only one who knows them is that when I get flustered or pressured my brain starts racing uncontrollably. I change the codes so rapidly that even I can't keep up with them, so they're safe. I'm the ultimate defense. I'd've been terrible in the Army--who wants a guy freezing up on them in a foxhole?--but this...this is a job I can do. Who is 'they'?"

"I was just making 'them' up in the grand tradition of this whole conversation. Are you a pathological liar?"

"No. Just an engaging storyteller." I looked at him, a forlorn look growing on his face. "Got a glass?"

"Oh...um...," he reached over into his backseat, "yeah."

I poured him some and we drank in silence, there behind our steering wheels. The Fake Frenchman said, "Well this is quite a sight, drinking and parking. You know, I still have to drive home...mind if I take the bottle?"

"I do actually. I'll pour you an extra glass though."

"I'd have to drink it now, and then I can't drive home."

"That's the idea," I said. "It's time you saw your angels somewhere else."

Popularity: 12% [?]

Marsanne

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Posted by Burke Morton On July - 16 - 2009

MarsanneMarsanne is the source of some of the Rhône Valley's greatest white wines, but is (perhaps owing to the rarity of white wine from this region) a relatively obscure white wine grape as far as the wine-buying public at large is concerned. It is the Falstaff of white wine grapes: its wine is fat, deeply colored, easy to enjoy, and high in alcohol so it might get in you Falstaffian trouble if you drink too much of it.

Marsanne is likely native to the northern Rhône Valley, but is planted widely across southern France. It is increasing in acreage under vine in the United States, and is revered in Australia, where some of the world's oldest Marsanne vines are still producing grapes.

It has aromatic elements that can include almonds, caramel, honeysuckle, unroasted hazelnuts, and pineapple; flavors include caramel, honey, marzipan, pineapples, plums, saffron. Marsanne is a high-yielding vine, whose grapes possess naturally high grape sugar and relatively low acidity. It is traditionally blended with Roussanne, which has pronounced acidity, to achieve more depth (and to broaden Roussanne...). It is also commonly blended with Viognier and Vermentino (which is known in southern France as Rolle).

Marsanne with Food
Chicken, lobster, pork, smoked trout, pâté, risotto, braised endive, fennel, curry, rich-ish cheese.

Popularity: 11% [?]

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You don't need to speak French to know that the iPad can double as a Champagne Sabre.... Happy New Year!

Popularity: 27% [?]

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