Savvy Sippers

The Wine Poet of Paris

2010-05-20T00:54:00.000-07:00

Interview by Linda Donahue of Parisien Salon

Susan Barbour always tells people that, unlike with most sommeliers, there was no “bottle that did it for me.”Instead it was a grape—a moldy, rotten, wrinkled grape from the Sauternes region—as well as the peculiar way the angled light hit the vine-rows and the charming idiosyncrasies of the winemaker who led that tour.All of these components intersected in the glass, and suddenly she saw that wine was poetry.

As a writer, this realization was all Susan needed to get hooked for the rest of her life.That was in 2005.The following year she spent working part-time teaching English in France while spending most of her time and money designing her own extensive tours through Burgundy, the Rhone, the Loire and Bordeaux. Susan still thinks that most of what she knows today about wine came from those first few months of adventure, when it was all new and in situ.

Afterward, Susan returned to the states and completed her formal training and certification at the Wine and Spirits Education Trust, but building her palate library has been the outgrowth of many wonderful encounters with wine and wine-lovers everywhere.

I met Susan during a wine tasting on a Vueling flight between Paris and Barcelona, and over a delicious Spanish lunch we discovered that, among other things, we shared the same astrologer in New York. Susan introduced herself as “a poet”—something that, these days, few are willing to claim as their primary occupation. But during the course of our conversation, it became clear that, for Susan, wine is no different from poetry, especially in the way one learns to appreciate it.

How can someone develop a wine sense?

I honestly believe everyone can enhance their palate through practice and attentiveness.I have an article on my blog SavvySippers called How to Maximize Your Nose’s Wine Potential.In it, I make recommendations for how to go about training yourself to notice and identify more.Smell is more or less an outmoded sense (we’re not hunters and gatherers anymore), so it just needs to be engaged and put to good use.It’s like learning a language:once you decide to sense and decipher what’s around you you may even find you start dreaming in scents!With a little bit of mindfulness you can do anything.

What’s the secret to finding a good wine?

The secret is there is no secret.Finding a good wine is part knowledge of regions, vintages, producers, price points—and part good luck.But ultimately it’s only “good” if it pleases you—and this can be the hardest part for some people.You have to have confidence in knowing what you like, and you have to be unabashed about savoring pleasure when it finds you.Wine appreciation is really just that:appreciating the value of something, making its worth increase through your attention and devotion to it.If you have a hard time expressing passion then it is going to be more difficult for you to find good wines!I often meet people who wish they could be more sensitive to wine, but the true problem is that they just don’t have a high enough bliss-tolerance.They have limiting beliefs about the role of pleasure and their right to it.But that is the single best reason to start learning more about wine, because it will expand your happiness as well as your perception.My advice is to try new wines with the intent of being surprised.Then, when you do find a good one, remember what AOC or region it comes from—that’s the single most important piece of information.Chances are good you’ll like another wine from that region if you try more.

What makes a good vintage?

Vintages are a cross-section of history.I once heard a Burgundy winemaker describe grapes as temoins, or “witnesses”, to history.If you have ever been in wine country during the vendages of an amazing vintage (I was in Bordeaux, for example, in 2005), then you know that a good vintage is magical weather.It’s the kind of ordinary day that seems extraordinary because of the quality of the air, the angle of the sun.In France, where the weather varies greatly, vintages are quite important.In California and other sunny climates, not so much.If you’re making an investment or looking to get something special at a restaurant, I’d recommend consulting a vintage chart.You can find Robert Parker’s online then print it out and carry it in your wallet.Wines drunk too young will cloak you with stingy unreadiness, while wines drunk too old will seem like dingy flower water from an old vase (I’ve never actually drunk the latter, but it’s always what I imagine!)

Do you think some wine regions are better than others?

Better is a slippery word.There are definitely regions where there is a higher percentage of higher quality wine.But this isn’t always obvious to the consumer.Bordeaux, for example, is world-famous for its wines and often sells them at top dollar, but as a region they still produce hoards of mediocre ones.In the little appellation of St. Emilion alone there are over 900 wineries!So there is bound to be a range.What most certainly is true is that there are regions which are better for finding good values.The Rhone, the Loire, and Languedoc-Rousillon are great areas for this.

What’s your favorite wine region?

People often laugh when I say this, but I actually have phases.Right now I am weak in the knees for Coteaux-du-Layon, which is a semi-sweet wine from the Loire made from Chenin Blanc.It tastes of perfume, sweat, and honeydew.It’s absolutely delicious.Wine phases are nice because you build—relatively quickly—a nice basis for comparison, which is good for building your palate library—a life-long task!If I were really forced to settle down with one region for the rest of my life, however, it would be red Burgundy.The whites are to die for, but the reds offer enough subtlety and variety to break your heart a new way every time.

Is there any difference in the taste of wine when served in a “wine tumbler” vs a traditional stemmed wine glass?

Definitely not in the taste, although you should be careful because a tumbler means your hands are going to warm the wine—which can make the alcohol too apparent.Sometimes that’s okay if the wine was served too cold—but a stemmed glass can still be warmed by rotating the glass with the stem between your fingers.

What are the main things to look for in red wine?

With any wine there are three components to tasting:appearance, smell, and taste.With appearance you need to check for clarity, viscosity, age (the meniscus of an older wine will be lighter in color), and reflections.Then you check for aromas in a first and a second smell (the second one is preceded by swirling for aeration).It helps to identify broad categories of aromas (fruit, floral, vegetal, mineral, chemical, etc.)Then you’d taste and look at the balance.Red wine, unlike white wine, has tannin, so the composition is made of acid, sugar/alcohol, and tannin.A lot of people have difficulty discerning between acid and tannin when they first start tasting because they can both feel drying.But acid will make the mouth water afterwards whereas tannin will make the tongue feel leathery.Alcohol is sensed at the back of the throat and in taste tests will often be confused with sugar, from which it is derived.

What are the main things to look for in white wine?

All the same things I mentioned for reds with the exception that white wines don’t have tannin.And with a white wine, I always find, acidity is absolutely essential.It is the backbone of a white wine, and without it the wine will come off feeling “flabby”. Acid actually causes water to release positively charged Hydrogen ions, which will bind to aromatic molecules.Acid makes the aromas in a wine “pop” so to speak, the same way that lemon juice brings out the flavors of raw seafood.

Any final tips you’d like to leave us with?

Yes. Don’t serve artichokes or asparagus! Those are the cardinal wine-killers.They’ll spoil your palate, and you won’t be able to taste red or white wines.You can, however, serve them up with dry Champagne.I’m also a stickler for not refilling any glass until it’s been drunk to the bottom.The reason is that the bottle and the glass have different surface areas, so they oxidize at different rates and are hence different wines.It’d be like taking identical twins and rearing them apart—only with one on a spacecraft traveling at the speed of light!They just don’t age the same way.In a Burgundy, which evolves rapidly, the difference in the nose of the bottle or decanter versus the nose of the half-drunk glass can be noticeable even to a complete beginner.

Susan Barbour is a Paris-based poet/sommelier. She has studied and worked in France, Italy, Cyprus, Malawi and Japan. Susan received her B.A. in English Literature from Dartmouth University and attended the Writing Program at Johns Hopkins University. Susan currently lives in Paris where she is working toward a doctorate in English at the University of Oxford. Thanks to a James B. Reynolds scholarship, she is at work on her first book, Metaxu, a unique pastiche of prose poetry, memoir, literary essay, and lyric fragments about the artist-model dynamic.

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The Wine is Corked at Oxford

2010-02-09T13:48:00.000-08:00

Of course, and to be fair, wine can be corked anywhere. But it is a veritable albatross, I have found, when it happens in the town of dreaming spires--especially when it is sniffed out by a Yank.

Oxford has two long-running wine societies, in addition to dozens of smaller college-based ones. Tragically, I did take part in any Oxford sponsored oenophilia before skipping the Channel for la Belle France (a regret I hope to redress on my next visit). I did, at a formal event later that year, manage to score one for Team America, but I otherwise did my wine appreciation underground--mostly because an initial encounter had left, well, a rather bad taste in my mouth.

Early on at one of the college bars, a chap told me I'd missed out on a glorious Chateauneuf-du-Pape their society had been pouring (I'd been at a department meeting during the freshers' fair). "Oh nice, which producer?" I asked. When I said I did not know the vineyard (there are over 320 in CDP), the oenophile in question responded (with audible "inverted commas"), "well you obviously don't know about wine then--so much for your American 'certificate'."

I did not bother to tell him that my wine knowledge was acquired in France--or that my "certificate" was from an international school, founded in London (that's the U.K.). I know a pissed Brit when I see one.

So what is up the British butt? I'd imagine it has something to do with a taste for gentility. Such a taste, gone unchecked, will homogenize all wines and wine-drinking into one grand semiotic of bourgeois behaviour [sic]--at the expense of the infinite varieties of tasting experience. If you're not into wine to increase your appreciation and empower your fellow tasters, then I'd rather stay at home and wash my (non-existent) car.

A moment of glory came when I attended a college high table dinner where we were sipping Meursault late into the evening. Divine! Then they opened a second bottle. Hoorah-- except--um, gag me with a spoon!--the bottle was so corked and unlike its ethereal other that I had to sit there holding back tears while the others drank and cavorted.

"Susan....Susan J. Barbour is it?" Oh no. My anti-social stance had been spotted. (n.b. the Brits do love my name. I am waiting for the day when I discover I am, in fact, the heiress to the eponymous--and pricey--hunting jacket company. But Barbour was getting me nowhere this evening. Nor was my boisterous New World employment of my middle initial J. I'd already been presumed "North American" on account of it and "oh right...so, Modern then" on account of having only a Poundian pilferer's interest in the Classics.) "What are you doing over there all alone at the other end of the table, come along and join the banter, will you? And what's the bother with your wine there? Bringing back the Prohibition are we???"

I smiled and sidled up to the woman motioning me near. "Oh thank you, no, not at all, it's just that," I leaned in close and whispered, "it's just that you see, well, the wine is...is..." I looked around me to see at least six people drinking from the flawed bottle as though nothing at all were out of the ordinary. "It's just that the wine is corked."

"CORKED!?" she said.

"CORKED!?" repeated the wine steward, who was passing behind us that very moment. He raised the glass in the air and sniffed it uproariously, making the biggest show of nose I've ever seen. Then he announced, "She's right! It's corked! We've all been drinking corked wine all night!"

I proceeded to explain to a rapt audience how 4, 6 trichloroanisole (TCA) bacteria can infect corks, spread through the bottle, mute the expression of fruit, and make the wine reek of wet dog and moldy cardboard. I showed them each that the smell of cork could not be missed if they compared it to a glass from another, unaffected bottle. We went back and forth, because that is how I first learned to train my nose. Because the olfactory system grows quickly acclimated to the smell of TCA, I told them, it is important to pay attention to the first nose of the first glass, since that is where you will notice it most.

"Are you on the wine committee?" said an old man who had dragged his chair nearer to me for the lesson.

"I'm afraid not, sir," I said.

"Well," he replied, with utter dignity and charm, "you have just been made President."

Of course, this spontaneous and honorary appointment was forgotten by all except for me the next morning.

Perhaps on another visit I can set a different tone for the rituals of libations at Oxford. I know that genuine Brits and curious drinkers abound and together we will all raise glasses to the art of appreciation. For the moment, however, I'm still plotting how to make that graceful transgression go down.

Can a University which has been teaching since 1096 make room for new attitudes? I managed to matriculate in a black leather motorcycle jacket over my subfusc ("and, if desired, a dark coat for women"), so I'm entirely convinced it can happen.

Happy Sipping,
SJB

Related Posts:
My First Gig as a Champagne Cruise Sommelier
Making Sense of Burgundy, Part I of II
Making Sense of Burgundy, Part II of II
Bistro Wine by the Glass: How to Pick the Winner
How to Maximize Your Nose's Wine Potential
How I Fell in Love with Wine

My First Day as a Paris Celebrity--Lunch at le Taillevent

2010-02-04T13:45:00.000-08:00

According to my horoscope I became famous on Thursday. "Why not go to Le Taillevent to celebrate?" said R__, my best friend in Paris, when I called him on Monday to give him a head's up.

Le Taillevent is hardly a no-name itself. As the inspiration for Gusteau's restaurant in the film Ratatouille, its virtual reputation casts a long and pixelated shadow. Luckily we were seated in a strategically discreet location, and R__'s back looked delightfully anonymous in the Taillevent sponsored sportscoat.

Me: Do you think we have to start worrying about paparazzi?

R__: Yes.

Me: Why are these gougères so good?

-CLINK-

Founded in 1946, Le Taillevent takes its name from the nickname of 14th century cook Guillaume Tirel who wrote the first French cookbook: Le Viandier. The restaurant won its first Michelin star in '48, a second in '54, a third in '73, and then--in 2007--it was détoilé or demoted to two stars. Chefs have been known to faire suicide over such a fate. However, in the words of the late Jean-Claude Vrinat, who was head chef until his death due to lung cancer in 2008, "sometimes a kick in the behind is a good motivator." Alain Solivérès has inherited that kick.

Most meals here begin with a glass of the house Champagne, Cuvée Taillevent, which is made by Deutz. During my Sherry-Lehmann days in Manhattan I frequently observed Norman Invasions whereby French patrons cleared out of our Deutz supply. Light-bodied, delicate but supple, bubbles super-fine; it's lovely, for certain, but how explain the mania? I personally think it's the feather-light bubbles, which seem not to burst on your tongue but to invite you to participate in their own aery expansion. They are so fine you could easily fit a thousand on the head of a pin. I sat there marveling the ebullient acolytes of chalky soil and then--was it the alcohol??? the fame???--suddenly I lost my head....

Me: Wait a minute, is this Le Taillevent? What are we doing? Why are we here?

R__: I was thinking that we both live in Paris, and it's Thursday.

-CLINK-

It is so nice to have friends who ground you. Now it was time for the amuse-bouche, a delightful pumpkin soup with parmesan. Then our first wine pairing arrived: a 2005 Hautes-Cotes-de-Nuits from Domaine Jayer-Gilles. What a nose! I love white burgundies because of a signature note I always find in them--which to me smells of nougat and linden. (That my Swedish grandmother's maiden name was Linden surely plays a part in my romance with these wines, however--matrilineal logophilia and synesthesia aside--white burgundy is simply the most complex and generous Chardonnay I've ever had.)

For our starter courses I got the beet soup because I cannot resist anything beet-red. I also cannot resist saying betteraves and sub-vocalizing it with every mouthful. A beet is definitely not as sweet by any other name....

Problem: R__ was getting my second choice, the marbled chicken with foie gras. The prognosis for order envy was disturbingly high. Luckily R__ is always two steps ahead of me and got the waiter to bring a separate plate with utensils for sharing.

R__: Ca serait possible?

Waiter: Pour vous, tout est possible.

Time for the mains. R__ and I both opted for the seared scallops with endive. Perhaps on account of my new stardom I was feeling like I might be seized by the rapture at any moment, and scallops seemed light and just right. The only difficulty was the endive, which I find a bit difficult to pair with wine. Its bitterness always strikes me as falling in the brussel sprouts/asparagus/artichoke category of WINE KILLERS. Could it be done?

Still unaware of our fame, the sommelier Jean-Francois LeMoine came over to our table and poured us a glass of Vin de Pays Viognier from Domaine de la Janasse, 2008. I didn't catch the region or the varietal at first; I thought I heard him say "sud-ouest", so I was expecting a white Bordeaux or a Bergerac. When I took my first nose I exclaimed, "Marsanne....Roussanne." These are varietals used in the Rhone to make such stellar whites as Chateauneuf-du-Pape and Hermitage. After a second swirl and inhale I added, "Viognier or Colombard. But if it is Viognier then it is surely not a Condrieu as the nose is quite subtle. I'm stumped."

R__: He said it was Viognier. You really need to get your hearing checked again. You are deaf as a post.

Me: Did you say I'm the guest with the most?

R__: Yes.

I love that this confusion happened, because it proves that with French wine it's inevitably the terroir--and not the varietal--that overpowers. That is the strategy of French winemakers, who seek to erase themselves so as to express the spirit of the place around them. I zeroed in on "Rhone varietals" not because of the relative proximity of the grapes but because of the land where the wine originates. (This can be a tough consciousness shift for Americans who are aggressively scientific and obsessed with species and genetics. On the opposite end of the spectrum, a French person can grow up in a wine region and drink the same AOC all her life but have no idea which varietals are used.) But the question remains: how did it go with the scallops? I'm not entirely convinced it was a perfect winner. The lime and mineral notes in the sauce seemed perhaps to overpower the subtlety of this Rhone Viognier's own aromas...and the acidity of the wine petered out ever so slightly at the end, leaving a touch of hotness or alcoholic finish. Am I a hater? Au contraire. I am just--at the end (and especially the beginning and middle) of the day--one who would probably pick my food to suit the wine, and this wine pairing was playing second fiddle to the dish.

By this point we had chatted up the lovely sommelier about declassified wines (AOC winemakers break the rules by, for example, using 100% Viognier for a region that would otherwise require a blend and be labeled Cotes-du-Rhone, so the classification remains a plebeian "VDP"), and our secret had leaked: we were famous. There was no use hiding it anymore, and the head waiter even insisted he take my picture with our dessert, a milk chocolate and praline déclinaison infused with tonka bean. The tonka bean has an aroma reminiscent of vanilla, almonds, cinnamon, and cloves, which made it the perfect dessert to accompany our Banyuls Grand Cru, Domaine du Vial Magneres 1998.

The Madeleines and petits fours came. This time the waiter dared to leave the bottle of the next booze on the table. I had a vague memory that this was done during my first trip to Taillevent in 2008 as well, meaning that this was a signature move--not one which is only reserved for VIPs.

At this point, most patrons settle the bill and trot off happily and curiously lighter than they were before, metabolizing the glorious food high. Bona fide celebs, however, receive a private tour of the restaurant. Our first stop was the pastry kitchen, where glorious tarts were being primped and piped.

Next we went on to the main kitchen were I met chef Alain. It isn't every day that celebs bump into one another. Everyone insisted we stop for a photo op.

I must say that while R__ probably could have explained special relativity in at four languages at thatpoint, Le Taillevent Armagnac left him ever so slightly less than deft; he dropped my camera twice and accidentally took a video of the handshake before coming up with the gem on the left. Luckily Alain is remarkably zen. Does he meditate between meals?

Next we were escorted to the cellars. Sommelier Jean-Francois pulled out a bottle of 1897 Chateau Lafite-Rothschild and let me hold it. Like chef Alain, Jean-Francois was remarkably poised. Unlike yours truly, he even appears steady in low-light!

I was clearly beside myself--can't blame this one on R__. Instead I'll blame the food and wine which, while perhaps not terribly innovative, surely make the case for why some French recipes ought to be declared UNESCO World treasures.

Le Taillevent may have lost a star in 2007, but that doesn't mean you won't feel like one when you dine here.

In Vini Veritas,
SJB

Related Posts:
Making Sense of Burgundy, Part I of II
Making Sense of Burgundy, Part II of II
Bistro Wine by the Glass: How to Pick the Winner
How to Maximize Your Nose's Wine Potential
How I Fell in Love with Wine
My First Gig as a Champagne Cruise Sommelier

My First Gig as a Champagne Cruise Sommelier

2010-01-04T12:19:00.000-08:00

Being a poet generally goes hand in hand with being a sommelier. Both wax pedantic, love travel, exude passion, and remember lots of irrelevant details. There is one facet of being a sommelier, however, which terrifies poets. That facet is called Manual Labor.

It is not so much that we are too refined to do it. No, it's more a complete disorientation in the physical realm. Have you ever tried to meet a poet out for a drink? Chances are he or she is still looking for the bar....

When I moved to Paris and was offered a job leading Champagne Cruises on the Seine, I said yes--and immediately felt like an impostor. My fears did not have to do with language proficiency (though my French was caked in iron oxide) or terroir knowledge. No. They had to do with getting people glasses and getting the Champagne inside them. Not to mention all the stair-stepping, cork-popping, vault-turning, ticket-collecting, and river-charming that happened inbetween. But this job was going to make the difference between being deported and living the ex-pat writer's dream! It was my life-saver, and one way or another, I had to make it work.

The night before my first cruise I had a strange dream. I saw an eye of Horus and entered its pupil. I heard three loud clicks. I sat in a room where my mother was stacking pillows on a chair. "Remember Marilyn Monroe!" she said to me. Then I woke up. That was the final prophecy of Horus??? Norma Jean Baker!!! I was hoping I'd receive some sign that validated my lunatic decision to move to Paris with the change in my pocket and a burgeoning epic on my hard-drive. Instead it looked like the oracle of my unconscious was dieting on random sound-bites and image shrapnel.

Later that day, I stopped by the English Bookstore W.H. Smith where I picked up a book I'd special ordered: Karen McNeil's The Wine Bible. I had an hour or so before it was time to leave for the cruise. I plopped down at a cafe and turned to the entry on Champagne:

"Almost every one who has ever busied himself with such matters has come," wrote the poet W.B. Yeats, "in trance or dream, upon some new and strange symbol or event, which he has afterwards found in some work he had never read or heard of." What on earth the dream "meant" I still had no idea. But the convergence was uncanny. I knew I was on the trail of Magic. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

Three hours later I was at the Eiffel Tower boarding the cruise-boat armed with a case of Champagne. I had visualized the entire thing from first pop to last drop, and I couldn't help but smile. That is, until I got downstairs and turned the wheel on the storage vault and saw that there were no flutes.

What in heaven's name was I supposed to do? I ran to the bar-tender. She handed me whatever she could find: plastic SOLO cups, flutes without handles, chilli bowls. I looked at the "glassware" before me. How was I ever going to explain this to the expectant crowd behind the velvet curtain? Then it dawned on me to remember Marilyn Monroe.

"Mesdames et Messieurs, Ladies and Gentlemen," I announced after throwing aside the velvet curtain. "I'm Susan and I come from Champaign." (Strange looks.) "If you notice a little American accent that's because I come from Champaign, Illinois, not the wine region; however, I assure you all my winetraining was in France." (A few smiles.) "Thank you for joining us tonight. I have to begin by apologizing for a small glitch, you see, we are out of Champagne flutes....." (Silence) "BUT, the good news is that you'll still get glasses, even better glasses because they're bigger, and so you'll get MORE Champagne, TONS of Champagne in fact...I mean, personally....I like to even go Marilyn Monroe style and plunge into a bath of 350 bottles of it." (Laughter, lots of laughter.) And the rest was history. Marilyn Monroe (and yes, you too, Mom) saved the day and my life as an ex-pat poet-sommelier in Paris after all.

That evening I walked into the "random gift store" on the rue des Martyrs around the corner. The trail of magic continued. On the shelf was sitting my new shrine: a vase set of Champagne "wands" and a clock of Norma Jean Baker herself.

You can bet I'll never forget her.

SJB

The O Chateau Champagne Cruise is offered daily and departs from the Pont d'Iena. The cruise includes a taste of three outstanding Champagnes: a Brut, Demi-sec, and Rosé. 40 Euros all-inclusive (35 if you tell them I sent you). To book your tickets call 33 1 44 73 97 80 or visit them online . Barring magical exceptions, flutes will be provided!

Beaujolais Nouveau? 10 Reasons to Just Say No....

2009-11-12T11:35:00.000-08:00

Every November I grow slightly nauseous at the onset of the oenofiasco known as Beaujolais Nouveau. Planning or attending a party? Never fear. There is a simple solution: call it Opposite Day and drink Old Beaujolais instead. (This is my favorite party trick, second only to cutting and dying my hair before wig parties.)

Old Beaujolais?!?! Yes. Don't let Georges DuBoeuf pull the wool over your eyes any longer. Beaujolais has been making first rate age-worthy wines for ages. One can also find, however, a special wine celebrated during the Fete-de-Beaujolais. A selection of mediocre gamay grapes from the Beaujolais region are fermented by a special process called carbonic maceration which was first observed by Louis Pasteur in 1872. A carbon dioxide rich environment causes juices from grapes to ferment inside their skins. Since no vigorous crushing is involved, the tanin levels are kept very low. The nose of such a wine is different. It exhibits blueberry, banana, and bubble-gum aromas. Contrary to popular belief, these are not coming from gamay; they are coming from the yeast-free fermentation. This point hit home for me when I smelled a carbonically macerated Pinot Noir from the states that smelled just like a Beaujolais Nouveau.

About thirty years ago some upstart marketers had the idea of trying to replicate this wine with a cheesey bottled version. The real wine is inimitable. During the Fete-de-Beaujolais, people sit out in rustic eateries called bouchons and drink wine from frothy barrels rolled right up to their table. As you can probably guess, such a delicate wine loses much of its appeal in the plane ride over. The thrill is really the uniqueness of drinking grapes picked only six weeks earlier. If you haven't picked the grapes yourself and you're not a stone's throw away from the vineyard, you're better off drinking good gamay which stands up to aging. And contrary to popular belief, Beaujolais has got plenty of it!

This year why not go rogue and have an old beaujolais tasting that shows what this appellation and terroir are all about? Beaujolais is categorized into Beaujolais, Beaujolais Villages, and 10 Crus Beaujolais. The ten cru are the best, cost around $15 to $25, and can age anywhere from two to 20 years. Serve them slightly chilled with sweet meats and tangy cheeses. Here are some characteristics for each....

1. BROUILLY
Dark, plumy, and mineral, this wine gets its name from Mt. Brouilly where Brulius, a lieutenant in the Roman army, had his seat.

2. CHÉNAS
Floral (peony and roses) and spicy as it ages. Legend has it that this wine is the source of the varietal name. A winemaker supposedly dipped his cup in a barrel of Chénas and sang out, tasting repeatedly until he had sung a full scale (gamme in French).

3. CHIROUBLES
A beautiful floral bouquet with violet at the fore, Chiroubles also can display iris, lily of the valley, and peony. Wonderfully silky.

4. CÔTE DE BROUILLY
Fresh grape and a note of dark iris. Mt. Brouilly is an extinct volcano slope. The soil (and therefore the wine) are rich in iron and extra good for your heart.

5. FLEURIE
My favorite. Fleurie has all of the silkiness and floral notes of a chiroubles but with a lovely vine peach aroma as well. The name comes from a Roman legionary, so think twice before calling it a "chick wine".

6. JULIÉNAS
Bright strawberries and red currants with spicy vanilla and cinammon notes. This wine has more structure and hence can stand up to more aging. The village is named after Julius Caesar.

7. MORGON
Morgon is known for its stone fruit aromas (cherry, peach, apricot, plum). This wine has an even more complex terroir and structure and can age 10 years or more. There is even a verb that describes when this wine approaches its peak: morgonner.

8. MOULIN- À-VENT
Also built to last, these tannic wines begin floral and fruity, but because they are aged in oak they pick up notes of musk and truffles. This is the most prestigious (and expensive) of Cru Beaujolais. The operative verb here is pinoter or "become like a pinot".

9. RÉGNIÉ
Black and red fruit make this wine particularly charming. Soft with a long, mineral finish.

10. SAINT-AMOUR
A favorite for Valentine's Day. These red fruit and stone fruit wines are made both by carbonic maceration and traditional methods. Keep an eye out for the ones made to age up to 4 years (the label will read vin-de-garde).

Happy Sipping!
SJB

Related Posts:
Making Sense of Burgundy, Part I of II
Making Sense of Burgundy, Part II of II
Bistro Wine by the Glass: How to Pick the Winner
How to Maximize Your Nose's Wine Potential
How I Fell in Love with Wine

Making Sense of Burgundy, Part II of II

2009-10-28T09:18:00.000-07:00

Now that we have a visual of Burgundy's backbone from Part I, we are ready to demystify the label, make a choice...then get on to drinking!

Burgundy Labels:WTF?
What the flip is right. One surefire way to give yourself a headache is to think too much about the label. The trusty triage I am going to give you will solve all your problems. It concerns the vintage, producer, and apellation, which is really all you need to know. Other info which will be present, however, includes the classification--a geographical demarcation determined by a council of terroir experts. These are pretty straightforward and generally reflected in the price. Burgundy classifications, in descending order of quality, are: Grand crus, Premier crus, village appellations, and regional appellations.

The Trusty Triage for Selecting and Buying a Burgundy
I am going to do my favorite thing ever, that is, contradict Robert Parker, the lawyer turned founder of Wine Spectator and propagator of numeric evaluation methods. In his book Burgundy: a Comprehensive Guide (vomit) he says that the factors one ought to consider when selecting Burgundy are, in order, 1)Producer, 2)Terroir/Apellation and 3)Vintage. This is wrong people. WRONG, WRONG, WRONG. (Did I mention this was my favorite thing to do?) The factors are right, but, as usual, he missed the point by 180 degrees. Here's your trusty triage:

1. Vintage
While a vintage technically has less impact than terroir, if you are buying for immediate consumption, this HAS to be the first thing you consider. How do you find out about Burgundy vintages? Although I would readily burn most of his documents (vis a vis Burgundian Abbeys, French Revolution), I would hang on to RP's vintage chart. Fold it up and carry it in your wallet. Why does the vinatage matter so much? Burgundy is genius in the bottle. During its life it has several peaks, and you have to be sure to catch it on a good one. Heaven forbid you catch a prodigy in a dumb phase.

2. Terroir/Apellation
This is the single most important factor in determining taste (and would be number one on this list if you were stocking your cave). Consider the style of the wine you're after. e.g. powerful/dried roses (Beaune) or delicate/lavender (Chambolle-Musigny). What's going to go best with your meal? Pinot Noir (and Chardonnay to a lesser extent) is a terroir sponge. The main differences you'll taste are attributable to dirt. What kind of dirt are you into??? Burgundy is your chance to find out.

3. Producer
This is the least complex factor, as in: you usually like one or you don't. If you like Mommesin's style (I don't, I find it overly oaked) in one wine, then you'll generally like their others. If you like Jean Grivot's very minimal intervention (as I do) in his Nuits-St.-Georges, then you'll probably like his other wines. Why is this last on the list? Burgundy wine-makers are trying to express the dirt and not themselves. They take pride in the art of s'effacement, in erasing their signature. Also, even if they had a monstrous ego, the brute fact is that the delicate grapes and quirky soil do most of the work for them.

How to Drink Your Burgundy
This last bit is easy. Drink it with food. Old world wines are meant to accompany a meal. This is especially true for Burgundy, which has a high acidity and tastes of mushrooms and herbs. Try having it with a delicious dish from the same region, like Epoisses, boeuf bourguignon, or escargots. Also, it is worth it to invest in a few Burgundy glasses which are tapered at the top to trap the delicate aromas. No need to get fancy crystal ones which break easily (unless that's what you're into). The shape will do the trick. Lastly, don't refill your glass until the first one's finished. The wine changes at a rapid rate and likes to keep its soul intact.

A Votre Santé,
SJB

Related Posts:
Making Sense of Burgundy, Part I of II
What's in a Vintage: Is it Really Just Good Weather?
How to Maximize Your Nose's Wine Potential
How I Fell in Love with Wine

Making Sense of Burgundy, Part I of II

2009-10-28T06:27:00.001-07:00

Burgundy produces more confusion than pataphysics. And yet it is some of the most ethereal perfume on earth. Are the French trying to take what's right under our noses--only to put it right over our heads? In fact, pas de tout, mes amis! Burgundy is such a puzzle because its terroir is so richly varied. Glacial deposits of fossilized sea creatures account for much of the difference, along with microclimates created by the hills. Do you have to be a geologist to figure it out? No, all you need is a simple mental framework, which I am going to give you. But first, a little background....

Busy-bodied Monks
Burgundy is a wine region in the northeast of France. The majority of it runs between Beaune and Dijon along a river. Winemakers have been in the area since the 3rd century B.C. These Romans had the uncouth habit of adding water to their wine. Luckily the vines fell into the hands of religious orders who decreed that the Lord's blood could not be diluted. In order to prevent the wine from turning to vinegar en route to other abbeys in Europe, the Cistercian monks (who possessed most of the land) engaged in endless experimentation in vinification techniques and kept copious records. Much of the abbeys' documents were destroyed during the French Revolution, but fortunately there was enough to pass the secrets down.

A Spinelike Hillside
Burgundy consists of five main subregions. Chablis, which is off to the northeast toward Champagne, and Beaujolais, which is at the very south, are typically considered their own entities. (More on those in future entries.)

You can think of what's left as the main squeeze in Burgundy. It is a spine of hillside running north to south along the Soane River. It consists of two less complex areas in the south (Cote Chalonnaise and Macon) and the legendary Cote d'Or in the north (Cote-de-Beaune and Cote-de-Nuits). As you go up the spine, you can expect to go up in price as well as finesse. Each region uses two grapes: Pinot Noir for reds and Chardonnay for whites. (Less common but present is also aligote, which makes a nice kir, and even Sauvignon Blanc, in petit appellation called St. Bris.)

The Main Squeeze
Here are some characteristics of the subregions along with selected appellations within each. Remember, the subregions will not appear on the label, but the appellations will.

~Cote Chalonnaise. Includes Mercurey and Givry. These are earthy, light to medium bodied wines meant to be drunk young (5-7 years). Usually in the $25-$45 range.

~Cote de Beaune. Includes the legendary Volnay, Pommard, Beaune, and Cote-de-Beaune. Volnay is known for its silkiness, but generally speaking these wines are more robust and powerful than the ones in the north. They run from about $35 up to much, much more.

~Cote de Nuits Includes Chambolle-Musigny (my fave!), Nuits-St. Georges, Vougeot, and Vosne-Romanee. These wines can be found in the $40-$60 range but are more commonly hundreds and even thousands of dollars.

Tune in tomorrow for more info including savvy tips on selection and pairing!

Happy Sipping,
SJB

Related Posts:
Making Sense of Burgundy, Part II of II
What's in a Vintage: Is it Really Just Good Weather?
How to Maximize Your Nose's Wine Potential
How I Fell in Love with Wine

Photo of author at Patriarche Pere et Fils in Beaune.
Map courtesy of winephilosopher.com

Cognac is Good for Your Hair

2009-10-26T02:59:00.000-07:00

I have found the cure to end bad hair days: Cognac. My friend Ram recently rescued me from catastrophic dis-Tress when he handed me a glass of Delamain Grande Champagne, X.O. (as well as a Russian Ushanka hat).

As it turns out, Cognac is a proven antidote to bad hair. The polyphenols reduce the hardening of blood vessels in the scalp, thereby improving circulation. It even slows hair loss! You can find a recipe for an egg Cognac hair-mask at The Green Gourmet.

But what if you don't want your Cognac on your head? What if you want to drink it instead? Cognac has for too long been the province of smoking dogs, business school students, old men at weddings, and Busta Rhymes. (n.b. I am not discouraging any of their business.) It's time to free this lovely brandy from the branding of time. For few things pair better with an old friend, an evening by the fire, or a tarte tatin a la mode than a tumbler of the gold stuff.

Cognac: A Basic Primer

Here is the essential thing to remember about spirits: Brandy is distilled wine (made from grapes or other fruit, such as apples), whisky is distilled beer (made from grains). Cognac is the name of the region in southwest France where the grapes from which it is made are grown. It is a stunningly beautiful region. Cognac is made mostly from a grape called Ugni Blanc although Colombard and Folle Blanche can also be found (all white grapes). After the grapes are pressed and fermented, the wine is passed through two distillations in copper stills (unique to this region). Here you can see an animation of the distillation process. The eaux-de-vie are then aged in oak casks where they acquire a lovely golden color and hints of vanilla. In the final step they are mixed by a master blender.

How to Read the Label
Cognac labels can seem unnecessarily confusing. Just keep in mind that they're there to give an indication of aromas (older ones have more tertiary or baked aromas where as newer ones will showcase the fruit). See the aroma wheel for a full profile of possibilities!

-GRADES
Once bottled, a Cognac, unlike wine, doesn't evolve anymore. Therefore it retains the same age indefinitely. There are three designations for aging in the barrels:

* V.S. (Very Special) or *** (3 star)... Compte 2: Cognacs whose youngest eau-de-vie is at least two years old.
* V.S.O.P. (Very Superior Old Pale), Reserve... Compte 4: Cognacs whose youngest eau-de-vie is at least four years old.
* Napoléon, X.O (Extra Old), Hors d'âge... Compte 6: Cognacs whose youngest eau-de-vie is at least six years old.

-ZONES
Cognac is divided into six smaller regions which amount to differences in price and style:
* Grande Champagne
* Petite Champagne
* Borderies
* Fins Bois
* Bons Bois
* Bois ordinaires or Bois à Terroir

My favorite is Grande Champagne, because of the stunning balance of powerful butterscotch and delicate flowers. But try a few and see what you like!

Tasting
A wonderful place to go with friends to learn more is The Brandy Library in New York City, where you can sip, compare, and ask questions to your heart's content. Ask for Ethan, a nice guy who really knows his sh*t.

Happy Sipping!

How to Maximize Your Nose's Wine Potential

2009-10-22T16:07:00.001-07:00

Educating your palate is like learning a new language. Some people are born with a gift, but everyone can learn to use the tools they're given.

Falling in love with wine is about watching your senses quicken, then feeling what life is like from that new and foreign perception. The first time I dreamt in French, I also dreamt in scents. I was at a wine-tasting with a French friend, and I dipped my nose into the glass to meet with evergreen and pear! (The dream ended shortly thereafter, because I couldn't complete the sentence.) I had officially awakened my nose in a dream.

Not too long after, I walked home through the park one day and stopped mid-track. I was overcome with deja senti; I knew I had smelled what I was smelling before. But I couldn't put my finger on it. At that point I felt one drop: PLOP, and then another and another, PLOP PLOP. Then I knew. I had smelled the scent of rain.

You can begin to employ this outmoded sense and enhance your perception, too! Just follow these easy tips.

1. Blow your nose. For realz. I do this in the bathroom before dinners out, and often in public if I'm around wine people because they understand. I even recommend using a neti pot morning and evening to cleanse your nasal passages. In addition to the wonderful physical and spiritual benefits you'll enjoy from deeper breathing, you will be amazed by how swiftly and intensely wine aromas flow up to your head.

2. Start smelling everything now. Don't waste your money on little kits of test tubes full of "wine aromas". Instead, experience the real thing. Go browsing through markets and sniff pits (of peaches) and hearts (of artichokes). Hell, smell the pits and hearts of your lovers, too! Buy Bonne Mamon preserves in every flavor and smell them as you smear them on your toast. Soon you'll wonder how you ever lived without subscribing to the 24-7 olfactory cinema all around you.

3. Describe. Come up with at least four adjectives when you smell a wine. A good thing to do is to break it down first into the main categories of aromas: fruit, vegetable, floral, earthy, chemical, then go from there. At first it will feel forced, but that just means you are putting the semantics into place, so that you can begin to build a reference library.

4. Quit Smoking. Even the one-off cigarette (which many an oenophile and chef is fond of) kills the buzz of aromatic bliss. I quit last December, and it was the best thing I've ever done for myself.

What's in a Vintage? Is it Really Just Good Weather?

2009-10-21T08:43:00.001-07:00

When I made my first trip to Bordeaux in October of 2005--what was later to be dubbed "the vintage of the century"--the first thing I noticed was the light. Perhaps when you are staring down a row full of vines, you are more sensitive to the trajectory of the sun's rays, their character and the rate at which they wane.

Olivier Berrouet, the oenological engineer at Cheval Blanc, grew up in Bordeaux and so was intrigued to hear that a newcomer found it so exceptional. He explained to me that because of Bordeaux's proximity to the sea, the mist and wind effectively washed the light. But, he added, not every year was like this.

It takes three essential factors to make a beautiful wine. A good plot of land with the right exposure, soil, and climate (what the French call terroir, a word that all encompasses a certain spirit of place) is the single most important thing. A first growth vineyard such as Chateau Margaux (pictured above), for example, has such outstanding terroir that it can make a beautiful wine--even in a very meager vintage. After that comes the grower and winemaker. They will make decisions about picking dates, irrigation, vinification techniques--all things which affect the style of a wine. And then, there is the vintage.

As a child I loved looking at our family's copy of Farmer's Almanac. When we moved to Champaign, Illinois (interestingly enough, Champaign has the richest topsoil in the world--not suitable for wine, but enviable nonetheless) and saw the corn and soybeans growing around the city's edges and heard neighbor's talking about the needs or excesses of sun and rain, I grew more conscious of what it meant to live at the mercy of the weather.

In Bordeaux, when you feel the air wick itself dry by mid-morning and see the grape-leaves tinged with dying sunlight, you understand a climate's grace. So yes, it is weather. It is the kind of weather that makes you stop and recognize a moment as extraordinary. Then you know what it is to be in a good vintage. Perhaps the hostess at my bed and breakfast put it best. "We were sitting around the pool last night," she said, "and the ladies were saying to each other, when was the last time we sat out late into the evening with bare shoulders?"

It may be twenty more years before that vintage is ready to drink. But the memory of those days of dying light will last me as long as I live.

Vineyard Photo compliments of cheateaumargaux.com
Sunset photo by the author

'If it is Deep, It is Steep': Juding a Wine by its Punt

2009-10-18T12:06:00.000-07:00

On a recent trip to Italy, Savvy Sippers reader Brad Hays noticed a correlation between the quality of a wine and the shape of its bottom. 'If it is flat it is cheap,' he reported, 'if it is deep, it is steep.'

Wine people refer to the indentation on the bottom of the wine bottle as the punt or the kick-up (rhymes strongly discouraged). So why is it there, and what does it mean? Is Brad right? The truth is, even the experts at Wikipedia are scratching their heads. Check it out. Below are the thirteen most cited explanations. Vote for your favorite in the comments section. Or, hell why not, make up a new one. Judging from the list, everyone's doing it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
THE PURPOSE OF THE PUNT

1. It is a historical remnant from the era when wine bottles were free blown using a blowpipe and pontil. This technique leaves a punt mark on the base of the bottle; by indenting the point where the pontil is attached, this scar would not scratch the table or make the bottle unstable.

2. It had the function of making the bottle less likely to topple over -- a bottle designed with a flat bottom only needs a small imperfection to make it unstable -- the dimple historically allowed for a larger margin of error.

3. It consolidates sediment deposits in a thick ring at the bottom of the bottle, preventing much/most of it from being poured into the glass;[10]

4. It increases the strength of the bottle, allowing it to hold the high pressure of sparkling wine/champagne.

5. It holds the bottles in place on pegs of a conveyor belt as they go through the filling process in manufacturing plants.

6. It accommodates the pourer's thumb for stability and ease of pouring.

7. According to legend the punt was used by servants. They often knew more than their master about what was happening in town, and with a thumb up the punt they could show their master whether a guest was reliable or not. (Vinavisen 19 may 2008 - danish)

8. It provides a grip for riddling a bottle of sparkling wine manually in the traditional champagne production process.

9. It simply takes up some of the volume of the bottle, giving the impression that you're getting more wine for your money than is actually the case.

10. Taverns had a steel pin set vertically in the bar. The empty bottle would be thrust bottom-end down onto this pin, puncturing a hole in the top of the punt, guaranteeing the bottle could not be refilled [folklore].

11. The punt acts as a lens, refracting the light to make the color of the wine more appealing.

12. Prevents the bottle from resonating as easily, decreasing the likelihood of shattering during transportation.

13. Allows bottles to be more easily stacked end to end.

Bistro Wine By the Glass: How to Pick the Winner

2009-10-15T08:41:00.001-07:00

You're at a bistro or bar by yourself. There could be many reasons for this. You're on a business trip or a layover. Your date stood you up. You're working on an epic poem or a wineblog. The waitress approaches your table. The sun is transforming the empty chair across from you into a glowing throne of indescribable beauty. A moment seems to crack open on its hinge; the Universe invites you to leave your worries and start living again. Obviously you have to have a glass of wine. You shield your eyes to peruse the menu. It's a familiar story: five reds and four whites--with suspect descriptions in italics. It's at times like this that you fear you'll end up quoting Evelyn Waugh: 'A domestic red, of no lineage...but I think you'll be amused by its presumption.' No, you think. Let that not be my fate. Let this wine resemble the beautiful moment I am in.

Let's get one thing straight: Unless you are at a wine-bar, gastro-pub, or michelin-starred restaurant, wines sold by-the-glass are not going to be interesting or complex. This does not mean that you can't enjoy them. It just means that you have to use your savvy discretion to find the wine that will deliver what its modest price demands. You don't order a filet mignon from the Holiday Inn, do you? No, you get the ground chuck burger, because it is less difficult to eff that up and can be found at good quality for that price.

Here are major points to consider when looking to find something quaffable:

1. When in Rome
When possible, drink locally. Small producers who make decent wines but lack the volume and agents necessary to export their wine often sell to nearby establishments. More competition means a greater selection and higher quality. Also, it's just plain good taste to seek to experience the land and culture through its grapes!

2. Low Tanins
Tanins take time and a deft winemaker to mature properly. So, even though Bordeaux blend may look fetching, at this price range they will more than likely be bitter. When choosing a red, stick to varietals that have soft tanins, like Cabernet Franc, Gamay, Grenache, and Pinot Noir (this last one is a testy buggar so refer to rule number 3.)

3. Hot and Cold
The most essential and difficult basic component for a good white is acidity. For a good red it is ripe tanins. When you aren't familiar with the wines on a bistro menu, follow this basic rule: COLD CLIMATES FOR WHITES and WARM CLIMATES FOR REDS.

Follow this advice, and you'll be very pleased with the way you managed to actualize your golden afternoon.

Savvy Sippers Trade Secret #3: Rolle

2009-10-13T12:08:00.000-07:00

If there's anything I love more than sharing a secret it is GETTING ONE OFF OF YOU. Adding to the line-up of fabulous white wine values this month is this delicious French Country Wine from Domaine Coujan. You can see me here in the kitchen where I sneaked off for a mano a vino while the rest of the party played backgammon in the other room.

Rolle (called Vermentino in Italy) has subtle floral hints and a lovely minerality in the nose--by which I mean it smells fresh but not perfumey. It is delightfully fruity--by which I mean it tastes of fresh fruit without being overly sweet, like a nice crisp green apple! The warm climate means that the grapes are well-ripe and soft on the palate, so its easy to have this wine alone as in, ahem, without food that is. It also is a wonderful complement to white meat, mild cheeses, or veggie dishes.

The best news: It's only £6.99 at Oddbins. Stateside sippers can find comparable Rolle and Vermentino values for under $14. (I recommend "Costamolino" by Argiolas.) Thank you, Tim, for this one. Short of turning water into wine, this is as good as party tricks get.

Related Posts:
Savvy Sippers Trade Secret #1: Picpoul-de-Pinet
Savvy Sippers Trade Secret #2: Macon-Lugny

Savvy Sippers Trade Secret #2: Macon-Lugny

2009-10-09T07:26:00.000-07:00

If you're like the average person, you probably think Burgundy is terribly expensive (you may also think it's only red). But because you are reading this blog you are not average. In fact, you are far, far above it. Macon Lugny (shown here by my favorite producer) can be found for $6--cheaper even than Yellow Tail, and at least four times as good! It's the drink that most posh wine stores serve their personnel during company meetings.

100% Chardonnay, this wine has a fruity nose, with a soft, round body and crisp finish. (Note that since it's a cool climate French Chardonnay it has none of the oakiness or vanilla notes you might find in one from California.) It is round enough to be drunk alone or as an aperitif, yet it has enough acidity to stand up to chicken or roasted veggies. Last night, for example, I took it to my friends Stephen and Jane who served me this lovely butternut squash risotto. Of course, I know it is a faux-pas to announce to your hosts how much you spent on wine. But with savvy trade secreta this good, how could I resist???

English Wine...an Oxymoron?

2009-10-03T09:45:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, while strolling through bales of hay, wild blackberries and passing cows, the unbelievable happened. I stumbled upon 14,000 glowing green vines. English wine? Was it a mirage?

Of course I knew that most every corner of the world makes wine (even my homestate, Illinois, has a few, usually with labels promoting college athletics). But what was remarkable was that the site actually looked...like winecountry. The slope in the angled evening sun and incoming mist were not unlike what one finds in, for example, Champagne.

Meopham Valley Vineyards has been in business since 1991. The owner is self-admittedly in the business because he finds it 'a nice lifestyle'. In response to my technical questions he laughed and said the important thing was just to 'enjoy drinking the stuff' and mentioned that the grapes are outsourced to another vineyard for the winemaking (they only handle the growing--which, to be fair, in a cool climate is quite enough of a challenge). The collaboration seems to have worked out. The 2005 sparkling rose was my favorite--a delightful minerality, strong acidic backbone, clean finish with a hint of berry. Bravo. I was not surprised to see that Decanter gave it a bronze medal.

Next time you pass a local vineyard consider taking a detour. It's not always the case that the wine wins prizes, but it's guaranteed to give you a new perspective on the spirit of a place.

Savvy Sippers Trade Secret #1: Picpoul-de-Pinet

2009-09-27T03:57:00.000-07:00

Wine store personnel are going to kill me for this. But since I know how few of you actually act on good advice, I'm going to tell you a secret: Picpoul-de-Pinet is one of the best crafted whites in the under $20 category. Ha! Now, are you ready for the really cool part? It's only $10.

"That never happens," you may think. Think again. Wine professionals start off in retail jobs where they make no money. Yet we have woefully over-refined palates. What do you think we are drinking? Every wine salesperson I have ever met knows about this wine. But we don't want you to know, because then you might drive up the prices or worse--buy it all up for yourselves!

But this is selfish. The wine-makers of Picpoul-de-Pinet deserve to be rewarded for their efforts. And, the sad truth is, few of you will actually go out and buy this anyway. Those who do will make the rest of us smile to know that yet another person is learning the meaning of a good wine.

What to expect: a delightful fragrant nose (by which I mean a soft perfume of delicate flowers and exotic fruits) but a dry finish (by which I mean not sweet). The nose-mouth contrast is unexpected, but honest, delightful and utterly satisfying. Have it with seafood or picnic fare. I cannot think of a better way to savor these last crisp rays of light than to serve them up in a glass.

How I Fell in Love with Wine

2009-09-26T04:07:00.000-07:00

Wine people have a million dollar question. It goes, "What was the bottle that did it for you?" I don't have a proper answer. For me, there was no bottle. For me it was an actual grape. A moldy, rotten, wrinkled grape.

You do not have to have an amazing sense of smell to love wine. You do have to have a sense of wonder. When you begin to pay the smallest bit of attention to anything, I guarantee it will open your perception. If you are very devoted, it may even become like a little guru. Wine will begin teach you how to appreciate more of what you already have around you. Your senses quicken and are put to use. That is why I call it falling in love. Because it is as though a new person has swept through your existence and introduced you to the life you've been missing. In other words, your nose (not to mention your heart) is a whole lot better than you think.

Botrytis cinerea, also known as necrotrophic fungus or, among wine-lovers, Noble Rot. This is the grape used in the famous sweet wine Sauternes, located just outside of Bordeaux, France. It is also used in Barsac, a lesser-known neighboring region, where I paid an innocent visit several years ago.

Everything I knew about wine at the time came from a DK Guide to France. I could, however, tell magic when I saw it. Noble Rot, I knew, referred to the serendipitous discovery that a particular fungus could shrivel a particular grape into a fuzzy raisin that produced one of the most exquisite sweet wines known to man. But it was not until the curmudgeonly old producer who ran the chateau bid me take a wrinkled grape and put it in my mouth that I became a convert. There was an explosion of honeysuckle and peaches, yes, but what did me in was what the old man said while I chewed. "You can be a red or white wine producer and have a bad year, there are still things you can do in the cellar to remedy that. But a Sauternes or a Barsac," he shook his head, "it doesn't cooperate with you like that. One receives the right conditions for rot from up above or one does not. It's something....mystique," he said. Then he sighed the sigh of one who spends one's whole chasing after a proud and fickle mistress.

He motioned for us to follow him to the cellar where he ran to unplug one of the hundred barrels lying on their sides. Then he put his ear flush against the oak. I thought he was mad. "Allez, allez!" he waved us over. I pulled my hair back and did as he told me. And then I heard it. The grapes whispered and hissed in a steady chorus. The man laughed a giddy, idiot's laugh, and I couldn't suppress my enormous grin. Then he took us to the tasting room, where we compared the colors of vintage bottles with new ones, and tasted a sampling of both. Before we left I dabbed a bit of it behind my ears and promised myself to start committing every smell I encountered to memory, so that I could find the proper words for what I was experiencing, so I could go on feeling that awake and that alive.

So, yes, I confess. There was no "bottle" that did it for me. There wasn't even a robe or a bouquet initially. I was seduced into oenophilia by the mysticism of the vinerows and the music of the barrels. But it makes sense that I, a poet, would fall in love this way. You can spend your whole life sniffing out something that you think an "expert" might adore, but it is only when you find what enlivens you that that very long love affair will enroll you in its wondrous course.