2 Grand Cru

Rise, Atlantis, Rise!

2023-02-26T01:13:00.002+02:00

Without the Gulf Stream, warming Western Europe with the warm winds and waters of Central America, not only would our world and climate be markedly different, our history and civilization would not be as we know it today. A glacial Western Europe would probably not have given birth to modern England, Italy, Spain, Germany and France. Other regions would have taken up the mantle and their places in history, but our world would have evolved differently.

I doubt Bordeaux would have grasped the crown of the world of wine.

In our universe's version of Earth, with Europe receiving this boon of bearable winters and glorious summers, there is often a big difference in climates, and thus terroir, between wine regions close to the Atlantic and those only a few hundred kilometers away.

A week ago (February 21st), I participated in a tasting we titled Atlantean White Wines. Or, to be more precise, white wines from Spain and Portugal. How does the Atlantic climate affect these wines? If I may be allowed to TL;DR,: salty!

Anselmo Mendes, Monção and Melgaço, Alvarinho, Curtimenta 2017

From the greatest appellation of Vinho Verdes, comes a semi-orange (that is, short skin contact) wine from one of the region's best winemakers. As much as I love Portuguese whites, and as much as I try not to judge a region by its base wines, Vinho Verde are always too sweetly fruity for me, even in the higher levels. My problem isn't with the quality of winemaking, but rather with the flavor profile of Alvarinho and the other local whites. Here, though, the palate is sweetish in proportion and the nose shows perfect poise, with a dash of minerals. Excellent, even if it's not really a world beater (I prefer Mendes' other flagship, the Parcela Única Escolha).

Zarate, Rías Baixas, Albariño, El Palomar, 2018

Alvarinho in Portugal, Albariño in Spain. Tomato, tom-ato. This and the following are among the greatest Albariños that Spain has to offer. Sourced from 150 year old vines, the nose shows a touch of reduction that serves to give the minerals a shove so they can stumble to the front stage. On the palate, a very long finish, wherein slightly sweetish fruit, similar to its Portuguese counterpart but saltier and more to my tastes, is firmly braced by minerals. Offer this to any lover of saline, salty wines and watch their eyes pop.

Bodegas Forjas del Salnes, Rías Baixas, Albariño, Leirana Finca Genoveva 2018

200 year old vines - my God, Napoleon was in power when the vines were planted! - cultivated by lifelong viticulturalist, Rodri Mendez, who saved/restored the venerable vineyard owned by his family. This is far ahead of the El Palomar, and for all the right reasons. The balance is better, it's more complex yet more delicate and nuanced, with a lightly chalky texture. If the El Palomar would make your eyes pop, with will close them again in contemplative pleasure.

Fedellos do Couto, Ribeira Sacra, Testoiro 2019

60-80 year old Godello, Doña Blanca, and Colgadeira vines from a high altitude site around the village of Soutipedre. There is a surprising contrast between the ripe apricots on the nose and the dialed down opulence on the palate, where the fine acidity lances the same apricots and uncovers a chalky texture. After that, I start to get some turpentine on the nose, which I'm not sure is very becoming.

Guimaro, Ribeira Sacra, Blanco Cepas Viejas, 2019

The Godello world did not perform well this evening. The nose is, well, interesting - dominated by black coffee and cardamom. It 's the kind of nose that makes you stop before the first sip and wonder what the palate will being. An oaky texture in this case, although I understand from others who returned to it an hour later that it had vastly improved.

Luis Pato, Bairrada, Quinta do Ribeirinho, 2020

Pato's high end white is made of Sercialinho, which may or may not be related be related to the somewhat more familiar Sercial. Lemons and talc on the nose, the almost classic signature of Bairrada whites. Good acidity, a one-dimensional palate dominated at first by oak. It still needs time, which is what I thought when I had it almost exactly a year ago.

And now, for the last stretch, the wines of António Maçanita, which I've been raving about incessantly in the last few months. Since I've already written about the first two recently, I'll just drop links for them.

Maçanita, Douro, Folgasão, 2020

Here.

António Maçanita, Alentejano, Trincadeira-das-Pratas, Chão Dos Eremitas, 2020

Here.

Azores Wine Company, Vinho Regional Açores, Terrantez do Pico, 2020

Maçanita has a few projects going on in Portugal. The above are his Duoro and Alentejo holdings. He's made a big imprint in the Azores Islands, where this is one of his flagship wines. The nose is redolent with funky minerals. By that, I don't mean that the wine is dirty or smelly, but rather that the mineral aromas get at you from different angles, singing a different song that we hear elsewhere. The palate pours on salty sensations, beautifully countered by fresh yellow fruit on medium-full, round, yet focused body.

Cota 45, Sanlúcar de Barrameda, UBE Miraflores, 2019

Ramiro Ibáñez, is the winemaker behind Cota 45. Ramiro, a native of Sanlúcar, "is striving to revive traditions and express the unique terroir of Jerez" and what this means in the case of this wine is an unfortified, single vintage, single vineyard manzanilla. This isn't exactly a white wine to serve the average drinker. The nose smells like someone piecing together an electric battery, the palate is olive oil and zaatar on the finish. I like it in small doses, whereas I could have gone through a bottle of the previous three all by myself.

Maçanita and Montbourgeau

2023-02-19T11:39:00.001+02:00

António Maçanita, Alentejano, Trincadeira-das-Pratas, Chão Dos Eremitas, 2020

This wine comes from the Chão dos Eremitas vineyard in the southern foothills of Serra d’Ossa, where two streams cool the ground and mitigate the torrid heat of Alentejno. It's made of 100% Tamarez, whose official name is now Trincadeira-das-Pratas. As for the actual wine, consider that usually a pineapple aroma/flavor profile is associated with ripe wines with a tropical character. Here, instead, is a wine with such a profile that is neither overripe nor tropical. It's aged for a year on its lees without battonage tanks and old barrels and it's decently complex with a backbone of chalk on nose and palate. A perfect example of balance and personality in action. (Feb. 12, 2023)

António Maçanita, Alentejo, Moreto, Vinhas Velhas, Chão Dos Eremitas, 2019

Although this comes from the same Chão Dos Eremitas vineyard, it's sold under the regional Alentejo label. It's made of Moreto, a grape I'd never heard of before. It's partially de-stemmed (70%), then goes through spontaneous fermentation and maceration for 40 days in skins, followed by 18 months in old oak barrels. Like the Trincadeira-das-Pratas, the personality is close to that of a ripe wine, without being in any way a ripe wine. I get blueberries and cocoa on the nose, and similar flavors on the palate, with decent plus acidity and well judged concentration, but no ripeness, no palate fatigue. This is very young, at the stage where the fruit is dominant and obscures the tannins. But, because the fruit is not overripe, because the barrel regime is so neutral, because no one tried to force the fruit extraction, there are no unwanted components that I would worry about sticking out in the three-four years the fruit will need in order to recede. This is really sensitive winemaking. (Feb. 17, 2023)

Domaine de Montbourgeau, l’Etoile, Cuvée Spéciale, 2017

I find this easier to get into than the regular l'Etoile. It's aged longer under flor, which actually does not accentuate the yeasty character, but, rather, the extra time seems to have allowed the fruit to absorb the yeast better. The end result is smoother on the palate, more subtle and contemplative on the nose. The nose doesn't show a lot of fruitiness, mostly delicate notes of roasted nuts and pasties, unlike the palate which is much fruitier and counters the yeasty pungency of the flor with just the right amount of sweetness and salinity on the finish. It's actually a seductive wine, even if it requires that you have an extremist streak. Having said all that, I enjoy these wines as a one-off learning experience, but I have no great urge to drink them on a regular basis. (Feb. 18, 2023)

Folgasão and Friends

2023-02-13T12:09:00.000+02:00

Maçanita, Douro, Folgasão, 2020

António Maçanita is the winemaker at the Azores Wine Company. With his sister Joana, he also runs an operation in Duoro. This wine, made from the very rare white Folgasão grape, snuffs so many Portuguese whites, which I love dearly in the first place. It's matured for 6 months in stainless steel tanks. It feels perfectly located in the center of the arc between reduction and oxidation. It's fairly complex, clear and tasty, and smells and tastes as though someone reduced citrus fruits, pollen and puddle water into a liquid emerald. I've never drunk a white wine that controlled the emission of aromas and flavors with such effortless poise. A minor miracle at less than 150 NIS. (Feb. 6, 2023)

Azores Wine Company, Pico, Arinto dos Açores Sur Lies, 2019

And since I mentioned the Azores Wine Company... The vineyards of Pico are unique in that there is only a narrow band of foothills between the island's volcano and the ocean. The vines are planted in rocks and protected from the winds by walls of rock, known as "currais". Arinto is an indigenous grape (that shares the same name, but not the same genes, with a grape back in a mainland Portugal). I enjoyed the regular version. This goes through lees contact and battonâge and has more body and depth. It tastes like grapefruit with a touch of sugar. (Feb. 11, 2023)

Giacomo Fencchio, Barolo, 2018

I don't want to generalize about 2018. I read the reports, but have not tasted enough wines. This may lack the depth and sculpted structure of a great year or the selection of the a great cru's finest vines, but it doesn't lack for charm or the transparency and nuances that make you feel as though you were peering into the Piedmont hills themselves. The Barolo normales I've tasted from Fenocchio have always had a lot of baby fat at this stage. Not so here. The lean forwardness of the 2018 is actually an advantage, as it highlights the lovely fruit and tannins that are dusty and silky at the same time. As expected, the aromatics are lovely and complex: cherries, earth, tar, anise. The fruit profiled grows darker in time. For short term drinking (ten year plus minus), this is probably my favorite of all the vintages I've had. (Feb. 5, 2023)

Claude Riffault, Sancerre, Les Denisottes, 2020

I really wanted to like this more. I thought the 2018 was ripe and generous, yet fleshy and saline. This was ripe and as generous as a misbehaving puppy, but no nuances, nothing non-fruity to provide balance. (Feb. 7, 2023)

Domaine Wachau, Wachau, Ried Axpoint, Grüner Veltliner, Emerald Smaragd, 2021

From a south-southwest facing vineyard located in a wind-protected basin, this is the highest demarcation in Wachau. I always think of melons when I drink a Gruner Veltliner, but here, at least, this has less to do with flavors and aromas and more with the texture and fleshy density of the palate. It will take a few years to coax more expression of the palate. Even the nose, which is more forward and already well spoken in mineral-speak, is still demure. (Feb. 10, 2023)

Steinmetz, Mosel, Kestener Paulinoshofberg, Riesling GK, 2016

Again, a complex nose, freely emoting minerals, slate, petrol. The palate is dry, with a touch of sweetness. Because Stefan Stenimetz is not a member of the VDP and does not need to adhere to their regulations, this was not produced as a Grosses Gewaches, even though the vineyard itself is a grand cru. There is a touch of sweetness ensuing this is not an exercise of pulling the palate through a grindstone. Enough years in the bottle to broach early adolescence did the rest. (Feb. 10, 2023)

The Stars My Destination

2023-02-06T22:56:00.000+02:00

Musso, Barbaresco, Bricco Rio Sordo, 1998

The classic dynamic of a robustly mature Nebbiolo - the sweet cherries pull one way; the tar, earth and iron another, both forces in balance. No sign of age, in fact, the fruit and tannins still feel bright and fresh, even polished, after all these years.

Scarpa, Barbaresco, 2001

Lovely but less so than the Musso. It's not as complex and the balsamic vinegar and sautéed cherries don't have the same tension and give and pull dynamic.

Domaine Seguin-Manuel, Pommard Premier Cru, Clos Blanc, 2010

It's the curse of red Burgundy. Pinot Noir will bless you with good to immortal aromatics in almost every vintage, even if the winemaker and/or the vineyard are mediocre. Getting the palate right requires skill, even in a great vintage like 2010. And this is what we have here, a nose that impresses much more than the palate, and even the nose is only decent. The aromatics are complex, with lots of iron and rust, but too forward to be really great. I prefer subtlety and nuances, a wine that asks me to make my way inside. The palate mixes sweet, simple fruit with rusty tannins. The bottom line, this is a good Premier Cru, not outstanding, without the muscular tension I'd expect from 2010.

Olek Bondonio Barbaresco Roncagliette, 2018

I'd been wanting to try this for a long time. Just to get an idea of the house style. My expectations of such a young cru from a problematic vintage like 2018 was that it would be approachable. Well, it is, but it also shows all the drawbacks of youth. It's not very complex on neither nose or palate, just red cherries with hints of mint. The texture is smooth, because the fruit smothers the tannins. Alas, for me, Nebbiolo's great interest is in the complexity and grip of the tannins, so I didn't get a very good idea of the potential.

Remirez de Ganuza, Rioja, Blanco Reserva, 2019

A lovely white that is a sort of reductive variation on the white Rioja idiom. Initially with obvious signs of oak on the nose, and none on the palate, it needs air to work off the air and show lemons with spicy nuances. Needs three-four years.

Alain Graillot, Crozes-Hermitage, La Guiraude, 2017

I've had decently mature Guiraudes in the past and when they peak, they show a lithe, elegant frame, sensual fruit skewered by fine, yet rusty, tannins, and layered with a dollop of bacon fat. The 2017, however, is far from its peak, a bottle sacrificed on the altar of friendship. At this stage, it's all luscious, sensual, fleshy texture, fresh fruit coasting on acidity, adorned by the North Rhone's signature black pepper and very subtle hints of bacon, any signs of complexity buried within.

Blinded By The White

2023-02-02T21:49:00.001+02:00

Artemis Karamolegos, Pyritis, Mega Cuvee Santorini, 2019

An Assyrtiko from Santorini, the cuvee is a a blend of three very old vineyards (120-150 years old). Like my recent discovery, the Azure Island whites, the Santorini vineyards struggle in a very harsh environment that requires nestling the vines in individual dugouts. The combination of desert conditions and the inherent qualities of the grape somehow results in a white wine of high acidity and high ABV, a wine that bruises with elegance, oranges and smoked salt on both nose and palate. This is a lovely wine that proves that white wines don't need to be polite. Like any wine, they just need to be true. (Jan. 30, 2023)

Domaine Jean Collet & Fils, Chablis, Vieilles Vignes, 2018

One of the earliest Chablis producers I encountered. I think there's a good chance that I actually drank one of Collet's Premier Crus before the more renowned names, such as Raveneau, Dauvissat, Fevre. Back in the days when you could buy a Premier Cru from any of those four for less than 40 dollars, that's how far back I'm talking about. Those were the days when père Gilles ran the domaine. His son Romain took over fully with the 2008 vintage, so this is his eleventh vintage. It's a good Chablis, but a bit foursquare right now and still feels young-ish. I have another bottle that I'll try to keep around. (Jan. 15, 2023)

Domaine de Montbourgeau, l’Etoile, 2018

The Bourgogne Crown order form called this a Savagnin, the winery's site says this is mostly Chardonnay. It feels like it was coated with flor, but the winery site is terrible and barely readable. Googling US importers and wine stores was more productive. L'Etoile is one of the smallest Jura AOCs. The wine is aged for a year in foudres, where the wine is topped up, then an additional 3 years in 230 litre oak barrels, as well as 600 litre demi-muid under flor, with no topping. It's tempting to compare it to a Fino or a Manzanilla, as long as one recognizes that the cultivar is different, the process is different and the flor strain is probably different as well. Regardless, Fino and Manzanilla are a good reference point. It's a safe bet that the only people who experienced a Jura vin jaune before trying a sherry are the locals. A fino is where you learn to recognize the nutty, slightly medicinal notes that flor is responsible for. They are somehow more subdued and coarser at the same time. Is it because Chardonnay is a plumper grape than Fino Palomino and thus balances the flor differently? I like Fino and Manzanilla more at this point, but it's probably due to familiarity more than anything else. The ABV is lower, so I can drink more of it at a sitting. Definitely a plus.

Weingut Günther Steinmetz, Mosel, Piesporter Grafenberg, Riesling Kabinett, 2020

Lime, apricots and ashy rocks filtered through crushed ice. (Jan. 21, 2023)

Terra Vita Vinum, Anjou, Grand Vau, 2020

I don't think great Chenin Blancs jump out of the gates fully regaled. I think they first tease you into thinking they're heading in a heady, honeyed direction, before they compose and focus themselves and bring out their mineral-laden hair shirts. Jacky Blot's stuff is just like that, and so is this. Jacky's wines resolve into a ripe apples and chalk, while this is baked apples, spices and rainwater, but the dynamic and evolution are similar. Another winner from Cheers, stunning if you give it time. (Feb. 1, 2023)

Blind Tastings and Dark Horses (Jan. 12, 2023)

2023-01-17T01:55:00.003+02:00

Niepoort, Bairrada, Vinhas Velhas, Bical Maria Gomez, 2017

I guessed Bairrada. I get smart that way every now and then. The lemon-tinged exoticism of the nose pointed to Portugal and the specific shape of the acidity - Bairrada. This is my third time drinking the V.V. and it's always a wine that needs time to open. It feels thin at first but is a lovely wine that rewards patience. I think Maria Gomez is in the blend to spike the acidity, but it's a component that needs air to flesh out.

Moric, Burgenland, Necken Markt, Blaufrankisch, Alte Reben, 2012

Paul Achs, Burgenland, Syrah, 2020

The last time I delved into Austrian reds was eight years ago. I really enjoyed the entry level reds but the premium wines seemed over-extracted, oaky. I drank the Necken Markt 2011 and thought the extraction was a... bit much. Assuming the 2012 started out life in the same mode, it seems this wine finds its legs after a decade. The nose belongs to the Syrah School Of Aromatics: blackberries, flowers, black pepper. The palate is seamless, so much for over-extraction. The acidity is low so it lacks the sheen that would compensate for its high asking price - Moric is enough of a star for this to sell at over 100 euros.

As for Achs, I drank a young Pinot at the same time period I'm talking about and it went for oak like it was a national flag. This is a much more balanced wine, fruity, floral, more Austrian than Syrah, if that proclamation could possibly have any bearing from someone who hasn't drunk an Austrian red in over half a decade. I liked the Syrah quite much, but not enough to Google the winery and find out whether there has been a stylistic change chez Achs that anyone else had noticed.

Patrick Jasmin, Cote Rotie, 2013

This needed more time, more air, which is generally what everyone says about the wine they bring, when it's not obviously damaged but still doesn't show well. Except it's true, a nine year old Cote Rotie is a nice idea that only works if it's the only wine of the night, and gets the time and space to shine. Here, the nose is still not fully fleshed out, but classic nonetheless: bacon, black pepper, flowers. The palate is at a nubile stage where the fruit is two steps ahead of the acidity and tannins. If the tannins had more rust and grip, it would have highlighted the sensuality of the fruit.

Joseph Roty, Gevrey Chambertin, 2014

Charmingly archetypical and sexy, but don't pop and pour, even now it needs time to get past a reductive, fleshy/sweet first act.

Roagna, Langhe Rosso, 2016

Textbook Nebbiolo, with a surprising note of rotisserie fat. It's part Barolo Cru Pira, part Barbaresco Cru Paje, so it must legally be declassified. I don't think it will ever shut down, so much I suspect that no one in my social circle will be generous or strong enough to set aside a bottle.

Patrick Baudouin, Coteaux du Layon, 1997

Coteaux du Layon is a Loire AOC dedicated to sweet wines from Chenin Blanc. The wines are usually deep orange hued and the acidity in warm vintages can rival Sauternes in the Nowhere Acidity League. At age twenty five, this competes with Pedro Ximinez for low acidity and wins - it's the least lively Loire dessert wine I've ever tasted and like PX, it's the same color as machine oil.

(Mostly) Barolo Night at Tchernichovsky

2023-01-14T10:59:00.001+02:00

Four Barolos and a Gevrey-Chambertin Premier Cru, not to mention a white Portuguese as an appertif, is a challenging prospect. The great company and food helped our digestive tracts and bloodstream absorb and thrive. What a great, great night!

Niepoort, Douro, Tiara Branco, 2020

There are many white wines I adore, in the world in general and Portugal specifically. Tiara is the white wine I never have enough of. I always want to age it but wind up drinking it before it barely reaches the age of three. The minerals circle the fruit core like a ball of thin twine, and the wine presents a set of aromas and minerals slightly askew from what the rest of the white wines of the world provide. The fruit is dry, yet plump without being overripe, and the acidity is well judged.

Domaine Pierre Duroche, Gevrey-Chambertin Premier Cru, Lavaut St. Jacques, 2013

This was the spanner in the works. It's a wine that I thought needed to be served before the Nebbiolos upstream. It's no less deep than the Barolos, but the structure, of course, is very different, and I thought it would be hard to return to its muscular tannins after the Barolos' rusty ones. On the other hand, it's not a wine that's quick to open, so drinking it early in the lineup would also be a problem. We played it both ways and poured it first, drank half a bottle and returned to it later. Its pedigree is quite obvious, even at its initial showing, where it showed rotting violets, iron and soft outer carriage that belied a deep, stern core within. Its tannins were more obvious in the second round, where its mineral and surprisingly rusty texture was able to meet the Barolos head on.

Flavio Roddolo, Barolo, Monforte, Ravera, 2012

This cult producer was a revelation on to me. 2012 is the most recent vintage on sale (the most recent Barbera is the 2011!) - think of Roddolo as the Piedmont version of Tondonia. The nose is enchanting and nigh perfect, cherries spiked with balsamic vinegar mixed with earth, the kind of nose that even in this relatively young wine evokes history and place. The palate is an essence of nails and cherries, gaining balance and definition and winding up with a long, caressing finish. The wine of the night, for me (and, I daresay, for the rest of the company).

Ca’Press, Barolo, Monforte d’Alba, 2018

The feminine wine of the night, even more so than the Duroche. Sweet tea and rose petals on the nose, with an echo of dry tar, the palate more of the same. More than approachable despite its youth, albeit not as fleshed out as the rest.

Principiano, Barolo, Boscaretto, 1996

A slightly oxidized bottle, playing out like a wine ten to twenty years older. A good bottle would be diamonds and rust, this is rather a soup of nails, a deep core of rust enveloped by somewhat misshapen fruit.

Cascina Fontana, Barolo, 2016

A 2016 this young will either shut down after a while or never open. We were lucky it turned out to be the former case and that we wrapped up the night before the wine went off to nap. It feels riper than the other Barolos, with a caressing cherry sweetness that was followed by notes of minerals, becoming the most mineral-laden at the end of the night.

Welcome To The Wine Week

2023-01-11T18:41:00.000+02:00

Azienda Agricola Ronchi di Giancarlo Rocca, Barbaresco, 2016

Ronchi di Giancarlo Rocca is hardly an household name, even in their own household. The make some Barberas and I think a basic Langhe, yet only two Barbarescos are produced, both from the Ronchi cru. I preferred this, the regular bottling, over the slightly more expensive bottling, which is explicitly labelled Ronchi, because I found it the more classically styled of the two. Both are 100% Ronchi, but the Ronchi bottling hails solely from a single plot in Ronchi. Hardly anyone writes about the house, and those who do, write about the Ronchi bottling, not about this one. So I had no idea if this would be ready.

But enough background, let me move on to the wine. The nose shows dark red cherries, tar and hints of roses and herbs, while the fruit and the acidity are both as deep and thrusting as you'd expect from Piedmont. But what gets me about this wine are the tannins. They are rusty and drying yet expressive and surprisingly huge with air. This is the great 2016, sure, but because this is just the basic village wine, I was expecting a more pedestrian wine and their size caught me off guard. Also, because this bottling is raised in foudres (unlike the Ronchi bottling, which also sees French barriques), the tannins were not smoothed or sweetened and instead there is a wonderful, mouth-filling rawness to them that only adds complexity and expressiveness rather than block the fruit or parch the mouth. I enjoyed this over-achiever tremendously, it's arguably the best wine I drank at home in weeks, even this young, and there’s enough balance there for a very long haul. (Jan. 6, 2023)

Tenuta delle Terre Nere, Etna Rosso, Guardiola, 2018

Way down south, on the other side of is the other Italian appellation I love. Some call Etna Sicily's Piedmont, some call it Sicily's Burgundy. I say, why settle for one when you can have both in a single wine? I simple adore the nose. A rose garden behind hedges of strawberries and wild herbs. The palate feels almost Burgundian. True, the alcohol levels are higher, but the fruit and tannins have the same velvety texture. With air, the fruit profile becomes darker, so now there are some black cherries. When this was younger, it had a more unruly character, now, it's quite elegant. (Jan. 7, 2023)

Clos Cibonne, Côtes de Provence, Cuvée Tradition Rosé, Tibouren, Cru Classé, 2020

In a nutshell, this is a Provence rosé made of the Tibouren grape from one of the eighteen Cru Classés of Provence. The Cheers site will tell you all of that and more. They'll also tell you that it's a rosé for contemplation and aging, which is true. Here's what they won't tell you, although they sort of hint at it. This isn't a happy rosé. It's not a rosé dressed in happy fruit with the acidity serving as a trampoline. It's a wallflower rosé sitting on the sidelines waiting for the right lover to come along, even if it takes years. The less romantic of you probably want more concrete descriptors. I can't really provide them. I think there are strawberries in there, but more strawberry-ish than actual strawberries. There's dust in the mix, but it probably rained yesterday and the dust is only slowly flowing up into the air. It intrigues me, but I don't know how much I like it. (Jan. 8, 2023)

My House

2023-01-07T15:02:00.000+02:00

Château du Hureau, Saumur-Champigny, Les Fevettes, 2018

First produced in 1989, Les Fevettes comes from a Cabernet Franc vineyard planted in 1943, so the vines are actually older than those vinified in the flagship Lisagathe cuvee (caveat: the winery site only mentions when the vineyard was first planted, not the average age of the current vines). My first impression is a wine more subtle, delicate and floral than the other cuvees. No Brett, no overt oak, lead pencil only in the background . Perhaps the most aristocratic Loire I’ve had, a wine that presents the Cab Franc character with great care and a sensitive touch. Am I reading signs here that Agathe Vatan is really taking over and off now? (Jan. 1, 2023)

François Villard, Crozes-Hermitage, Certitude, 2020

The Crozes-Hermitage “Certitude” comes from vineyards in the village of Mercurol, in the heart of the appellation, one hundred percent whole clusters aged for eighteen months in five and six year-old barrels. The first thing you notice is the archetypical nose, reflecting the essence of olives, meat and pepper. For the first hour, this is a moderately luscious wine, the tannins hazily providing structure, the acidity unobtrusive and only evident after the finish winds down. Chapter two is where the Rhone Syrah magic kicks in and the country bumpkin becomes a Janus. One face is a tapenade, roast beef and blackberry jam baguette in liquid form. The other is pepper and rust - I'm not saying the tannins are necessarily rusty, because right here they're not, I am saying they feel like a blacksmith coming home with iron fillings stuck to his hands. In the end, this is nothing too fancy or profound, just a lovely night in classic France. (Jan. 5, 2023)

Sphera, Lia, Blanc de Blancs, 2018

The nose has the same yeasty vibe as a Champagne Blanc de Blancs. The palate has less depth and complexity, though, even if we adjust for age. Still, a very fine piece of work. (Dec. 31. 2023)

Weingut Günther Steinmetz, Mosel, Brauneberger Mandelgraben, Riesling Eiswein, 2018

Deep bronze color, relatively low acidity for an eiswein, although much, much better balanced than a Sauternes, say. Burnt sugar and mint tea on both nose and palate. Think of an iced mint tea or a mint popsicle, but made with no industrial additives, just built from scratch with the fruit of the earth, the winemaker's heart and the drinker's imagination. (Dec. 31. 2023)

Domaine des Marrans, Morgon, Corcelette, 2021

A new Beaujolais in town, imported by Ori Baruch. This is yet another example of a talented winemaker taking over his family domaine. The style is traditional Beaujolais as exemplified by the famous Gang Of Four (Marcel Lapierre, Jean Foillard, Jean-Paul Thévenet, and Guy Breton). Deceptively light and fresh, an intriguing overlay of dust and clay makes for a charming package. (Jan. 3, 2023)

Thank God It's WineDay!

2023-01-03T20:47:00.002+02:00

Domaine Ninot, Rully Premier Cru, Marissou, 2019

The Marissou 2018 was a good example of what a great shopping ground the lands south of the Côte d'Or are. The 2019 is a step up .While the Premier Cru moniker may be a seal of approval of quality down here, same as in the Côte, it doesn't quite carry the same weight. The fruit in the Côte Chalonnaise appellations are darker and more rustic than their more prestigious brethren in the north, and, indeed, the initial impression here is that of dark black cherries, with earthy and spicy nuances 'round the edges. I had an even more terrific bottle of the 2019 last month, but this doesn't hit the same height. It still a good bargain, just not a great one, and better than the 2018. (Dec. 17, 2022)

Domaine Olivier Merlin, Bourgogne Les Cras, 2020

A single vineyard site in La Roche Vineuse in the Mâcon. Sauvage à la Gevrey transposed over cranberries, the tannins are soft yet pungent on the finish. It's arguably better than the Marissou and further proof that formal AOP's are probably less relevant down south. (Dec. 22, 2022)

Domaine Rapet Père et Fils, Savigny-lès-Beaune, Aux Fournaux, 2019

I've always adored this domaine for their brilliant and well-priced Pernand-Vergelesses Premier Cru, En Caradeux. The only red wine I've tried so far was the Chorey Lès Beaune, which was quite nice, but not very striking in its youth. This comes from a village lieux-dit called Aux Fournaux, which is adjacent to a Premier Cru called, well, Aux Fournaux. The wine is all sour red cherries to begin with, with a mellow ambience of steaming herbs. But there’s nothing going on right now except primary fruit. (Dec. 25, 2022)

Mauro Sebaste, Barolo, Cerretta, 2017

Opened two hours before the World Cup Final and then enjoyed for hours after the game ended. The nose displays a complex, perfumed richness: ripe cherries, rose petals, tarry nuances, rust, a meaty savouriness and a wild herbaceousness. The fruit initially feels ripe and big, blanketing and hiding tannins that are just as big. It's very lovely after four hours. The tannins assert themselves enough to give the fruit structure and a semblance of expression, but not to the point where I’m convinced that this is a great wine or a great year. I’ll wager that this is a wine that will be a very warm companion some winter evening five-ten years from now. Some wines are not meant to participate in group feasts, that's a sad fact party animals need to familiarize themselves with. (Dec. 18, 2022)

Tenuta delle Terre Nere, Etna Bianco, Calderara Sottana, 2019

I got sucked into Etna whites this year, mostly Terre Nere, which is what is most readily available in Israel. As usual, I adore the aromas of roasted nuts and the smoke reminiscent of hot water baths. The fruit is a secondary player, mostly melons, and there are hints of fat and bitterness on the finish. Acidity and air are the aphrodisiacs that sculpt the finish into a chalkier, more interesting texture. There's definitely an upside here. (Dec. 24, 2022)

Roland Lavantureux, Chablis Premier Cru, Fourchaume, 2020

A new producer for me. For me, Fourchaume is always one of the more well-behaved Chablis Premier Crus, although I prefer the ones that seem to spring upon you like a kraken. Given air, this develops texture and marine character. Every importer needs at least one Chablis producer in their portfolio. This is HaKerem's. (Dec. 28, 2022)

Champagne Tasting At Delissimo

2022-12-28T17:39:00.000+02:00

A medium-sized tasting at "my place", Delissimo. It was a great tasting, but I will say that almost every wine deserved to be tasted at a tasting half the size. Spend more time with the wines, give them more air, allow people to follow a couple of glasses over time. My rule of thumb going forward is going to be 4-5 people, 4-5 Champagnes.

Bérêche et Fils, Montagne de Reims, Brut Reserve, n.v.

A rising star located in the northern part of Montagne de Reims, this is a blend of all three major grapes (Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, Meunier). None of Bereche's cuvées go through malolactic fermentation and the non-vintage cuvée is comprised of 30% reserve wines. When I was first introduced to Champagnes, the toughest style for me to come to terms with was the style this wine brings to the table, with its baked apples on a slightly oxidative nose. This wine intrigues me intellectually and I enjoy it viscerally on the savory and broad palate. Imported by Bourgogne Crown.

Michel Gonet, Côte des Blancs, Les 3 Terroirs, Extra Brut Blanc de Blancs, 2013

A fairly large, venerable name from the Côte des Blancs, who own all the vineyards their grapes come from (which isn't that common, as larger firms buy at least some of their grapes). The style here is different than the previous wine's, for obvious differences: the terroir is different and the wine is made of Chardonnay only. The style here is wildly disparate. You won't find Bérêche's slightly oxidative baked apples, and the yeast-cum-brioche on the nose is more distinctive. It feels young and direct. The wine immediately following it is a vast improvement, for obvious reasons I'll go into.

Michel Gonet, Grand Cru Mesnil sur Oger, 2012

The previous wine was comprised of grapes from the villages of Mesnil sur Oger, Vindey and Montgueux. This, however, is pure Mesnil sur Oger, arguably the greatest Champagne terroir. And also, 2012 is the greater vintage. I would expect the better vintage to show younger and rougher, but I think the greater contribution from Mesnil sur Oger, and maybe a better inherent balance in 2012, makes for a wine that is more intense yet, at the same time, more elegant, than the Les 3 Terroirs, with less obvious rough edges. The yeast and brioche are more subtle, so the umami character of the wine is more pronounced. Gonet is imported by Cheers.

Larmandier-Bernier, Terre de Vertus, Premier Cru, Blanc de Blancs, 2013

The last affordable vintage cuvée from one of my favorite houses, from the Côte des Blancs again. Larmandier is a master of low dosage, which he applies to carefully raised fruit that is always rich and ripe, yet balanced. Thus, the wines are always full and broad, with great focus. The Vertus has zero dosage and is complex, focused, ever changing (the nose gyrated from chalk to shells to green tea), detailed, salty. One of the best wines of the night. Imported by Eldad Levy.

Moussé Fils, Vallée de la Marne, Special Club, 2012

This is one of the more unusual wines of the tasting. First of all, Vallée de la Marne is considered the third Champagne sub-region in terms of quality, certainly in terms of renown. More importantly, Cédric Moussé is a Meunier specialist, rare to begin with, and this is the only Special Club made today of pure Meunier in all of Champagne. As for the wine itself, I was disappointed. It has the breadth and depth and the nose has originality going for it, a sort of salty caramel which I've never encountered before. The palate is more focused, but one-dimensional despite, or because, of its size. The house's holdings are based around the village of Cuisles, which is classified as Autre Cru, which is the base classification in Champagne. Assuming the classifications still reflect quality, and are not biased against the Marne, perhaps the wine is not designed to be drunk at ten years of age? Or maybe the wine suffered the most from being meted out in single glass portions and little time to let it develop? At least one participant, with very good palate and taste, told me he loved it. Not imported.

Gramona, Gran Reserva Cava, "Celler Batlle", 2007

This Cava joker (which was added to the lineup both for comparison's sake and to witness firsthand the impact of long lees aging) is a blend of 75% Xarello and 25% Macabeo that spends some ten years in bottle with the lees. The rule of thumb for ageing sparkling wines on their lees is that long aging gives endows them with greater depth but at the cost of longevity post disgorgement. Luis Guiterrez from Wine Advocate loved the wine in 2018. As 2023 approaches, we experienced something that reminded me of a white Rioja, but with bubbles. And not a white Rioja on par with Heredia, say. The nose stumbles like a one-legged lumberjack, the palate as flat as his dismembered prothesis. I doubt I'd buy it even right after release. Not imported.

Roger Manceaux, Cuvée Heritage, RD, 2009

This blend of 60% Pinot Noir from Mailly and 40% Chardonnay from Taiss in Montagne de Reims was disgorged in September 2019. While it wasn't really one of my stars of the evening, it was still in a better place on the post-disgorgement curve than the cava. Not imported.

Léguillette-Romelot, Clos du Montdorin, 2015

Champagne actually allows six grape varieties. This is a blend of the other three: Arbanne, Petit Meslier and Pinot Blanc. It's an interesting curio, and very charming, but I think something about its simplicity only goes to show why the three varieties are so rarely encountered. Not imported.

Ask The Angels (Dec. 21, 2022)

2022-12-21T16:48:00.000+02:00

There's a small window of opportunity to taste young Barolos before they shut down on you, an effect sometimes extended in a vintage like 2017. We were lucky indeed to taste two of the all-time great Barolos in that sliver of opportune gift offered by the world.

Comm. G.B. Burlotto, Monvigliero, 2017

This is the wine that put the village of Verduno on the map and drove the prices of all the wines from the village, and this cru specifically, sky high. Burlotto was a famous name for generations, but what has made the house so special in recent years is the work of one man, Fabio Alessandria, who crafts wines of utter elegance, especially the Monvigliero. The Monvigliero is one of the few wines I've tasted that I felt marked by genius. No other word can describe it better, although surely elegance, beauty and magic are also apt. I tasted the Monvigliero 2017 in autumn 2021 at the winery and it took my breath away, one of the few wines that literally had me look up, recollect my thoughts and utter a "wow". And it's no less a wow wine today. The effect for me was even more intense, because I drank it and the rest of the wines below with two friends, which allowed us to follow its development over the course of a few hours. It started out no less beautifully than last year, with a fragrant, complex nose, redolent with red fruit and exotic spices, the palate defined, but not constricted, by elegant tannins.

I don't really know how to define the term "feminine wine" but I know it when I drink it. For the first hour, the texture was floral without the wine smelling of flowers, the wine's form suggesting, to me, the shape of an orchid.

But that was only phase one. As the wine aired, the nose and palate took on aspects of earth, minerals and rust. But not in a rough way. The form still had that same elusive form, belying its 14.5% ABV, carrying a precise complement of flavors. It did change enough so that we all felt that we were getting two wines for the price of wine in the same bottle, a yin-yang of a wine.

Bartolo Mascarello, Barolo, 2017

You can break down a wine's structure, aromas and flavors to the bare atoms, but will that really convey beauty? Like the Monvigliero, this is a wine that eludes simple descriptors and is unadulterated magic. Bartolo Mascarello, of course, is the one of the classic names of Barolo, and the firm makes only one Barolo, no crus, no Riservas, just a blend, year in and year out. This, too, is a wine of elegance and finesse, with nose and palate equally complex and captivating, showing red fruit and minerals, hints of herbs. The tannins are dustier and the overall effect is more masculine and muscular, just slightly more down to earth than the Monvigliero. The Mascarello is the Sistine Chapel, the Monvigliero is the actual angels.

Because I was so enchanted by the magic, I forgot to mention how tasty these two wines are, and also the next one. I always feel that Nebbiolo actually has other flavors in store in its tannins besides bitter ones.

Produttori del Barbaresco, Barbaresco Riserva, Paje, 2008

I love Barolo and Barbaresco, but admittedly few samples are as stratospheric as Burlotto and Mascarello. The basis for Piedmont's reputation is actually based on the more mundane wines, although that's a relative term. This would be the wine of the night on many other occasions. Produttori, like Burlotto and Mascarello, shows how important tradition is. Tradition is what kept standards at Burlotto high in the first place until Fabio's genius took them a step up. Tradition is what allowed Maria Teresa follow her father Bartolo's footsteps so seamlessly at Mascarello. Explaining how a cooperative managed to maintain high quality for over half a century has to allow for people skills as well as wine know-how.

This is the manliest of the three. See what we did here? We pitted the most ethereal Barolos against a Barbaresco to mar the common paradigm that says Barolo is King to Barbaresco's Queen.

This is no less complex than the Barolos, but it does go from point A to point B in a straight line. The nose is wild, tarry and minty, the palate shows good grip and texture. I suppose the texture is the differentiator. You just notice it less in the Barolos, because the balance is so perfect.

2022’s Twilight

2022-12-16T11:29:00.000+02:00

Envínate, Castilla-La Mancha, Albahra, 2020

A red so lithe and so balanced, the greatest fatigue is uncorking the bottle. This is a blend of Garnacha Tintorera (better known as Alicante Bouschet) and the obscure, indigenous grape Moravia Agria from a single vineyard at 800 meters elevation in the Almansa region, at the southeastern tip of Castilla-La Mancha. Like the 2018, the first vintage I drank, the fruit is joyously red, a little smoky, a little floral. It's an almost maddeningly moreish wine. (Dec. 6, 2022)

Domaine de la Butte, Bourgueil, Le Pied de la Butte, 2020

An unoaked Cabernet Franc from the lower parts of Bourgueil, this is an easy drinking red from Jacky Blot's Bourgueil domaine. It captures the essence of Loire Cabernets, red fruit with a touch of earth and distinctive lead pencil character: the smell of a freshly sharpened pencils, the pleasantly sweet metallic taste of chewing on one. Not a great wine, no surprise given its origins, but very moreish, vivid and typical. (Dec. 10, 2020)

La Rioja Alta, Viña Alberdi, Rioja Reserva, 2018

This dependable Rioja Alta warhorse was the only red wine produced in 2018, out of all their various labels, so grapes normally destined for the 904 and even the 894 were included. Reviews called it an elegant wine, and it probably is, once air and time carry you past the coconut and vanilla. Beneath that, I sense a fruit forward wine, mostly black cherries, although thankfully it's not too generous with the fruit, nor with the graphite, with enough nuances and shadings to endow it with fair complexity. (Dec. 11, 2022)

Castello di Verduno, Barolo, 2018

The nose is a sleek kiss of love from the Piedmont paradise: sweet spices, cherry tea and rose petals, a touch of green leaves. The acidity, even in a problematic vintage, is excellent, but initially, the body feels light and the finish short. Well, the body fills out a bit, as does the finish, and the palate gains texture and complexity with air. The nose fills out as well. Despite improvements, it’s hardly a surprise that there are no signs of greatness here, but it’s a fine wine fogiven the inherent limitations of the vintage and relatively low end terroir. (Dec. 13, 2022)

Domaine Mee Godard, Morgon, Corcelette, 2020

Still in a very primary phase, black raspberries adorned with pepper and cinnamon. An hour of air and it starts to show the meaty funk I loved in Foillard’s Corcelette, only much more hygienic. The important point is the hygiene doesn't castrate it but rather serves to highlight the fruit and its Morgonicity. Even on the second ay, it still feels one-dimensional, though. I will definitely need to keep my bottle of the higher-tier Côte du Py for at least four years. (Dec. 14, 2023)

Domaine de Bellevue (Jérôme Bretaudeau), Muscadet, Gaia, 2019

I chalked up a lackluster showing last month to poor stemware. In a Riedel Riesling Wings glass, the wine's breed and lovely mineral nuances shine through. I think the reason for the poor showing is this: Muscadet thrives on a balance between lime and melons and the mineral pungency and twang of chalk and oyster shells. The usual texture of this blend is usually coarsely grained, which is okay, it's still a charming, delicious drop. But this wine is intentionally made of more delicate fabric, thus requiring greater attention and a better glass. Or, you can be really sharp and give it a couple hours and then you’ll get nuances, a more pronounced presence, a longer, more powerful finish. (Dec. 15, 2022)

House Of Wines

2022-12-06T08:41:00.001+02:00

Domaine Wachau, Wachau, Dürnsteiner Liebenberg, Grüner Veltliner, Federspiel, 2021

A handy introduction to a winery that has finally made its way to Israel: a single vineyard located at the point where the Danube river makes a 90 degree turn south, giving the wines excellent exposure. The nose is shaded in green: green apples, green limes, green herbs. And something that evokes oyster shells and, later, chalk. Very balanced on palate, with just a touch of the bitter greenness of a young white. There’s not a lot of depth or complexity, at first, but its tight focus is impressive. Air endows it with texture and breadth, as well as a cornucopia of minerals, although not much depth is gained. (Nov. 25, 2022)

Domaine Wachau, Wachau, Terrassen, Grüner Veltliner, Smaragd, 2021

Smaragd is a higher pradikat, which places this wine a little higher in the winery's hierarchy, even though this is 'just' a regional wine. As the winery's site explains it, the idea behind the Terrassen series is this: "grapes from primary rock sites too tiny for a single vineyard wine are blended together." The depth is greater here, the aromas more refined: green lime again along with riper citrus fruit, minerals. A texture halfway between powerful and sculpted. (Dec. 3, 2022)

Domaine Bernard Baudry, Chinon, Le Clos Guillot, 2016

Wow, it's been almost eleven years since I first drank a vintage of this wine. Loire was almost non-existent in Israel when I bought a bottle from Chambers Street Wines. Then Wine Route started bringing Baudry, Eldad brought Amirault and Hureau, and that was it until Bourgogne Crown and Cheers started dipping their fingers in the pie a couple of years ago.

Over these eleven years, Baudry has lost its favor with me and I'm thus down to my last bottle. Maybe the wines just need time more time than I've given them, but to be honest, I find them often too bretty for my tastes and brett is not something I have a great urge to mature in my fridge. Luckily, I find no brett here, just red raspberries, earth and lead pencil, as well as a touch of minty herbs. There’s a richness on the nose that I'm happy to say is not as developed on the palate, instead there's a very handsome savoriness, along with sour cherries and excellent acidity. Then, the palate shuts down after two hours. I guess I opened it too early, but at least I avoided brett. (Nov. 26, 2022)

Girolamo Russo, Etna Bianco, Nerina, 2021

I'm about 30% on my way to be able to identify Etna whites blind. At their best, as here, we're talking about citrus fruit, a touch of melon, and a suggestion of smoke on the nose, same echoed on the palate with gorgeous acidity. This is a unique wine for Etna due to its varietal makeup: 75% Carricante from the Feudo contrada and then a blend of Catarratto, Inzolia, Grecanico, Minnella and Coda di Volpe planted in otherwise red grape vineyards in San Lorenzo and Calderara Sottana. A lovely, nuanced wine I would have liked to age further, but I don't think I'd risk more than two years, based on this one read and my limited experience with Etna Bianco in general. (Nov. 28, 2022)

Domaine Le Roc Des Anges, Vin de Pays des Côtes Catalanes, Llum, 2021

A blend of Grenache Gris and Macabeu, not a blend I would personally exert myself to buy. Sour fruits I can't place: fig and lemon juice? (Nov. 29, 2022).Nov.

Roagna, Langhe Rosso, 2016

This is at the stage where it needs time to open, starting flat, even a little medicinal. With so many Mondial games I planned for it to accompany, it was easily awarded the two hours it needed to reveal its character: dry cherries, dry earth, dry truffles, dry roses, drying tannins. Complex aromatically, the palate is currently a few rungs down, basically because the finish is too dry to allow the flavors to fan out completely. Nonetheless, it shows the beauty of a young Piedmontese and also insinuates greater beauty to come. (Dec. 2, 2022)

The Winner Takes It All

2022-12-02T08:19:00.002+02:00

Chateau Chasse-Spleen, Moulis, 2005

The 2005's on the lower rungs in Bordeaux seem to be edging up to the plateau of readiness, sort of peeking around over the edge. This is quite balanced, correct, but not very expressive, yet. Just black fruit and a little smoke and iron.

Chateau Margaux, Pavillon Rouge, 2002

A second wine that, even from a cold vintage, wiped the floor with the competition 'round the table (and would be as dominant in over 90% of the tables around the world). A complex, seductive nose with the spices that make Margaux such a compelling thrill for the senses, a touch of iron, tasty red fruit. The palate starts out closed and tannic, the opposite of the nose, before fanning out to release its hedonistic secrets and unhinge my heart. Bordeaux may put you off for being all about business, but a wine like this reminds you that their line of business is beauty.

Chateau Belair, Saint-Emilion, Grand Cru, 1998

Others liked more than me. The nose is very direct and the structure is on the simple side, with tannins coming out too late in the game. If I had to coin a phrase to describe this wine, it would be: fruitcake forward.

Chateau Rauzan-Segla, Margaux 2me Cru,1998

The runner-up, providing the same vivid, albeit controlled, sense of hedonism as the Pavillon. Obviously less complex and less gripping, it is nonetheless another wine that reaffirms that there's no place like Bordeaux.

Chateau Branaire-Ducru, Saint-Julien 4me Cru, 2005 and 2008

Two peas in a pod, both declining to greet the outside world. Obviously cut from similar cloth - foursquare black fruit with a hint of earth - the 2005 at least deigns to uncover its aromatics. Having drunk both over the last three years, I can vouch that they both needed another couple hours more of air. Or three-ten more years in the fridge. Anyone looking for a lesson in Bordeaux got it, hopefully those looking for pleasures got them from the two Margaux.

Your Sweet And Bitter Fruit

2022-11-25T09:09:00.000+02:00

Rachel Even, Nebbiolo, 2019

What a wonderful eye-opener from a local amateur winemaker! The fragrant nose is so true to the variety and keep getting more definition and depth as it airs: sour cherries, earth, tea, flowers. The finish is never very long, the body is lighter and the fruit core sweeter than Piedmont, but I think Rachel nailed the essence of Nebbiolo in 2019 with this very good wine.

Sorelle Olivero, Barolo Serralunga d’Alba, 2015

A few months ago, we paired the 2017 with against the regular Giovanni Rosso Barolo. Then, as now, Rosso was the better wine and the better buy. Look, they're both classic Barolos, in my opinion, but the Olivero is a little less classic, and less focused. I think it's just a little more overt. But the tarry earth and tea are charming. (Nov. 10, 2022)

Giovanni Rosso, Barolo Serralunga, 2017

Old World reserve, showing the feminine, floral side of Nebbiolo, a grape that has more sides that I can count. (Nov. 10, 2022)

Tzora, Shoresh Blanc, 2017

From a magnum. Lime and seashells. If you planted Sauvignon Blanc in a pretty good Puligny village cru, this is what you’d get. I miss some concentration and sometimes it feels like the oak is too much of an obvious crutch, but the format makes it drink like a three year old. A regular bottle should be ready to go. (Nov. 12, 2022)

Tzora, Judean Hills Blanc, 2021

A younger wine, a different blend, more oak due to youth, the same winemaking touch. I let the bottle air for hours and then got a very focused and structured Macon, no oak, very saline. One day I’ll age this wine. (Nov. 12, 2022)

Tzora, Shoresh, 2016

The last bottle of four or five, better than the one I had half a year ago. It's chunkier and richer than its claret forbears. The crushed rocks and pine needles on the nose are all Judean Hills. The tannins are still harsh at first, but nothing air doesn’t cure. They become rusty, savory and sweetish at the same time. Good acidity. A rich wine, all in all. (Nov. 12, 2022)

Suertes del Marqués, Tenerife, Valle de la Orotava, 7 Fuentes, 2019

90% Listan negro, 10% Tintilla. I think brett really ruined it for funky wines. Brett is the stink of the foul, of the continually unwashed. What we have here is the musk of the creased hand of a recently washed worker who went out for a few minutes to a hot, dusty orchard to pick some cherries. On the palate, the wine is driven by acidity and sour fruit. I have not yet visited the island, but I will revisit this wine. It's highly enjoyable.

Riverworld

2022-11-19T22:05:00.002+02:00

Your friendly neighborhood Loire tasting.

Domaine de Bellevue (Jérôme Bretaudeau), Muscadet, Gaia, 2019

I enjoyed its sibling last week, Clos des Bouquinardières, but that wine needed time and a Burgundy glass, which the Gaia did not get. I enjoyed its clean lines and purity, but I need to try another bottle to make up my mind. If it doesn't improve with air and/or time, then it's not a very smart buy.

Didier Dageneau, Pouilly-Fume, Pur Sang, 2012

Once upon a time, I used to think Dageneau made the best Sauvignon Blancs in the world. Partly because I didn't know that many Sauvignon wines at the time and partly because I read so. The wines are expensive everywhere, especially in Israel, so it's been years since I've had a bottle. At ten years of age, the Sur Lang manages to combine a honeyed, reductive nose with the rich texture that slow oxidation in the bottle provides. The reunion was briefer than I'd have liked. It's a wine that requires time and attention in order to relish its nuances,

Claude Riffault, Sancerre, Chailloux, 2020

This is the mirror image of the Pur Sang, and not just because it hails from the other side of the river. It's a story of youth versus maturity, extroversion versus nuances, size versus balance. The Chailloix' nose is chalk and peaches veering towards tropical fruit, the palate powerful and dense. Like the 2019 I had last year at the same age, it's still struggling to integrate.

Eric Morgat, Savennières, Fidès, 2015

Savennières is the biggest-boned Chenin appellation. The wines are arguably the most alcoholic along the river, so textured and spicy they can seem almost tannic. Sometimes I get an ashy nose that recalls whiskey. This is a prime example, almost my white WOTN. It's my first encounter with Eric Morgat and I need a second date. The mid-palate was just about starting to fill when the next wine came up to the plate.

Huet, Vouvray, Clos de Bourg, Vouvray, Demi-Sec, 1995

Back before I became a persona non grata with the importer, I used to think the Huet demi-secs were some of the great values around. Sure, the sweet wines could be an exercise in heaven on earth, but the dash of sweetness in the demi-secs rounded out the wines while letting them serve the same function at the table as a dry wine. I drank up all the bottles I purchased locally before they turned six, they were so delicious I couldn't keep my hands off. I did manage to score some 14-16 year olds abroad, so I know how great they can turn out to be. But a 27 year old is not something I thought I'd ever have a chance to taste. It's still fresh and thriving - apricots and spices on the hedonistic nose, echoed on the dry palate with sweetness on the fringes and splendid acidity. Especially complex? no, and not very hedonistic either, more of a sly, understated pleasure.

Domaine des Roches Neuves (Thierry Germain), Saumur-Champigny, Les Memoires, 2019

This is a very misleading wine to pop and pour, even to pop and air for a few hours and then pour. I drank half a bottle of leftover 2018 at the same age, the day after it was opened. It was still nubile, but you could get a good sense of its poise and potential. Here, all we got was ripe, primary red fruit. It's one of Germain's flagship reds, but if you don't treat it right, it plays out like a supermarket wine. Don't touch any bottles until the 2030’s.

Les Memoires is a perfect example of how frustrating young Loire reds are. A serious specimen might cost less than a third the price of a Bordeaux of the same quality, but will be just as frustrating to drink before it matures. Which, as far as I can tell after all these years, means wait until age 15-20 years, compared with 20-30 for a comparable Bordeaux.

We were lucky, in that respect, that the next two wines were already a delight to drink.

Yannic Amirault, Bourgeuil, Le Grand Clos, 2010

The nose is gorgeous and detailed, red fruit and earthy nuances, the palate balanced and attractive, even sexy. I thought it was ready, but my opinion was in no way consensual.

Domaine du Bel Air (Pierre et Rodolphe Gauthier), Bourgueil, Grand-Mont, 2016

Despite its youth, I gave it the edge over the Amirault. The nose is better, classy and classic, with slightly darker fruit, iron, ash. The acidity is marvelous, the tannins and rusty and fine at the same time.

There were two more bretty reds that I will skip over and address the final, dessert wine.

Huet, Vouvray, Clos de Bourg, Moelleux, 2009

A wonderfully complex nose, some wax and botrytis and that special Chenin stamp: "look, my wet wool sweater got covered in honey". It's just on the lean side, despite the high sugar level. Another wine that deserved more attention. Looking over old notes, it seems to me that the best Huets need air to flesh out, although I wish I had a larger data set for that opinion. At any rate, the two Huets are tied for my wine of the night.

Down By The River

2022-11-10T13:44:00.000+02:00

Domaine de Bellevue (Jérôme Bretaudeau), Muscadet, Clos des Bouquinardières, 2019

Jérôme Bretaudeau represents two trends of the last decade plus: the rise of the nervy, crystalline whites; and that of the prodigal sons and daughters of venerable estates in the classic wine areas injecting vitality and new ideas, while still preserving the integrity of their heritage.

Well, this wine does drive both points home. Muscadet, in all the permutations of the appellation that a foreigner has no way of deciphering, is made of Melon de Bourgogne, which, as Wikipedia slyly tells us "originated in Burgundy and was grown there until its destruction was ordered in the early 18th century." A somewhat drastic measure. To me, it always smells and tastes as though the DNA of Chardonnay was wrapped around melons instead of apples. Like Chablis, it has a typical musk of chalk and sea that makes an immediate impression that is easy to get, which is maybe the reason Muscadet has been fashionable among hipsters who liked Chablis but wanted something user-friendly yet trendier.

Just a bit about Bretaudeau himself before I continue with the wine. The importer brochure tells me that he led a fairly mundane life as a worker in a local winery until took over his father's domaine in 2005, at which point he started defying any expectations his previous life may have set. A single bottle can't really confirm the praises the importer lavishes, but I love it. The Clos des Bouquinardières, to me, mixes precision with looseness, nuances with charming bursts of disarray. Drinking it, experiencing it becoming clearer and purer in time, I envision Jérôme as a sculptor who keeps his workplace clean but works with the blemishes of the marble rather than try and hide them. I think it's a year or two at least from its peak.

The wine needs to be drunk in whatever stemware you prefer for a white Bourgogne.

TGIF (Oct. 28, 2022)

2022-11-05T17:50:00.002+02:00

Nothing says the weekend is here quite like a Friday afternoon wine romp!

Weingut Günther Steinmetz, Mosel, Kestener Paulinshofberg, Riesling, 2013

I drank the same wine about a month ago and it was the first wine made by Stefan Steimetz that left me a little underwhelmed. Thankfully, this is much better. It's clear, pure, livelier than my bottle, showing a warm personality full of apples and peaches. I have found over the course of the last year that I prefer Steinmetz' gentle versions of Mosel dry Riesling to outright Grosse Gewachs. What I get from Stefan's work is the sense that he never feels the wines need to impress you with overwhelming structure or pizzazz. The dry wines feel a little sweet without actually being sweet, so I feel like my palate and the wine are collaborating, rather than my palate being worked over. And they're almost always great value.

Domaine Armand Rousseau, Gevrey-Chambertin, 2019

The real estate that the Rousseau family owns in Gevrey makes them outright millionaires. Their wines are well worthy of the reputation their patriarch, Charles Rousseau, helped establish for the village and its crus. This village wine, for example, has the depth and balance of a Premier Cru, at least. It's floral, deep and broad. And young! We caught it at the point where development in glass brings out fruit and ripeness, but now matter how fruity it became, the balance stayed pure and definition sharp.

Domaine Ninot, Rully Premier Cru, Marissou, 2018

When I wrote that the Rousseau has the balance of a Premier Cru, I didn't mean a Premier Cru from Rully. Comparing crus from Cote de Nuits and Côte Chalonnaise is really a matter of comparing apples and oranges. This is not a deep wine. It's earthy, a little woody, still, and the oriental spices on the nose are a little too forward and obvious. What it does get by on is pure, rustic charm.

Domaine Alain Chavy, Puligny-Montrachet Premier Cru, Folatieres, 2015

It's rare that a vintage is great for both red and white Burgundies. For example, the warmth of a vintage like 2015 might be too much for whites. This wine seems to have escaped the trap of warmness to the extent that it is not only tasty, but taut, salty, driven by firm, though not overwhelming, acidity. This half bottle was at its peak and to be quite honest, I didn't get a full sense of how great it was. There's only so much I can read in a wine in the tail end of a short afternoon get together. But, it's really good. It's the kind of wine you want, need, to stack up in your cellar. It's a textbook example of why the Cote de Beaune became the role model of Chardonnays all over the world: the spicy yellow apples; the notes of dry grass and flint that balance the fruitiness; the lithe form that restrains the ripeness and fullness of the fruit.

Everyday Old World Wines

2022-11-01T11:25:00.000+02:00

Lyrarakis, Crete, Assyrtiko, Vóila, 2021

There’s a warm, yet racy character here, full yet crisp, salty like lime and cheese. I forgot how good this wine can be. A gorgeous, complete wine. (Oct. 6, 2022)

Raul Pérez, La Vizcaina, Bierzo, La Vitoriana, 2018

Meaty, inky, bloody, spicy - darker and more brooding than other Mencia (the Bierzo red grape) I've drunk. Needs 4-5 years in the fridge, although not necessarily mine.(Oct. 13, 2022)

Domaine de la Taille aux Loups, Montlouis-sur-Loire, Clos du Hochet, 2020

The development arc here is similar to the one I enjoy in the Bretonnière (the Vouvray demoted to VDP due to local laws, what should be the de facto flagship wine). It starts out with a yellow apple character, glazed with cinnamon and spicy pears, showing a decadent, wildly fresh side of Chenin Blanc. It's painfully young, is what it is. There's an undercurrent of minerals that grows stronger with air and a lithe curvature that I think will crystallize in two-three years. (Oct. 21, 2022)

Phillipe Alliet, Chinon, Vieilles Vignes, 2018

Half a year ago, it impressed me as the product of a warm, ripe vintage. Not flabby, not opulent (which wouldn't have been a bad idea), just not quite as a taut as a more classical Loire Cabernet. Now, however, it proves you can't dismiss terroir or winemaker. It shows the mineral, lead-pencil aspects of the archetypical red Loire appellations, the stink of terroir rather than the stink of brett, good acidity and rusty tannins. (Oct. 23, 2022)

Yannick Amirault, Bourgueil, La Petite Cave, 2010

The last of four bottles that I bought from Eldad Levy about a decade ago. It's sad to say goodbye, but seeing as how the wet cork broke and dropped into the bottle, maybe it was for the best. I still get some wood, same as in a Bordeaux or Rioja on the cusp of maturity, but mostly pencil shavings, iron, raspberries, a hint of mint. The body is medium plus, savory, very balanced. It has a decade in it, at least. (Oct. 25, 2022)

Weingut Hermann Ludes, Mosel-Saar-Ruwer, Thörnicher Ritsch, Riesling Spätlese, 1994

Rieslings can be immortal, but a twenty eight year old Spätlese is not quite that common. Especially when the moldy cork drops into the bottle, as this one's did. There's no sign of tattering, despite being on the delicate side. The nose and palate are nuanced and elegant. It's the kind of wine that requests a little exertion and concentration, not a lot, but you do have to come to it. (Oct. 30, 2022)

B-Party

2022-10-29T21:57:00.001+03:00

The evening's theme was simple: wines from appellations that start with B. Knowing the people involved, we were obviously being manipulated towards Bordeaux, with Burgundy a backup option. But, there are so many appellations that start with B, we all know that.

There's also an appellation that starts with a C, that we weren't about to give up on. You may have heard of it...

Vilmart, Emotion, 2012

Crisp, focused opulence, a rose that isn't just a Champagne dyed pink, but one where the Pinot provides a touch of underbrush, an autumnal kiss by way of Burgundy. Don't rush to gulp it down, flavorsome and moreish though it may be, because it only gets better with air, as minerals and complexity emerge.

Domaine de Montille, Pommard, Les Cras, 2012

Back when the inheritance tax laws that shaped the Burgundian landscape were invented, did someone add an appendix that required every village to have a vineyard called Les Cras? This is the first time I've encountered this wine, and, having no idea Pommard also has a Les Cras, was underwhelmed by the wine until I noticed it's only a village lieux-dit. Montille's Premier Crus are lovely, but this is average-plus. The nose is almost gorgeous, black cherries and smoky earth, but lacks the complexity to be really memorable. The palate manages to frame flabby fruit with a tannic backbone, an accomplishment of sorts. I think this is as good as it gets.

Rizzi, Barbaresco, Nervo, 2016

Alcoholic, even sweetish, certainly unbalanced, hopefully this was a bad bottle or just a bad time for the wine. Knowing what I've learned about Piedmont in the last three years, I would leave 2016's alone at this time, or else give them much more air than this bottle received.

Comm. G. B. Burlotto, Barolo, 2014

This bottle did receive some time, at least three hours by the time we got to it. So, while it plays young, it shows evidence of its balance, as well as Fabio Allssandria's craft. I did hope for more nuances at this stage, because 2014 reads like early drinking, at least for low-tier Barolos and Barbarescos, but I settled for a straightforward, albeit elegant, snapshot of cherries and rose petals.

Chateau Montrose, Saint Estephe 2me Cru, 2001

A Left-Banker at this level, with the marriage of balance, elegance and power gifted to us by climate, geography and centuries of skill-honing, is irresistible. That elegance, and the blend of black fruit, tobacco leaves and iron, is a pleasure that I wish I could enjoy on a more regular basis.

Weingut Heidi Schröck, Burgenland, Furmint Auslese, 2019

My first thought was, this is as light and ethereal as a Riesling, but then, a three year old Auslese wouldn't be this light. Which was probably my subconsciously polite way of thinking this doesn't have a whole lot of fabric to work with. Still, a fun evening capper, a light fruit punch with veins of mustard and minerals.

Fantastic Wines And Where To Find Them (Part 2)

2022-10-21T20:25:00.000+03:00

Quinta de Chocapalha, Vinho Regional Lisboa, CH by Chocapalha Branco, 2018

Portugal is only marginally an outlier wine producing country. Certainly, Duoro, Port and Madeira are classics, and Vinho Verdes can be found in just about every wine store and restaurant these days. But Dao and Bairrada, to name two of my favorites, are still dark horses, and Lisboa is definitely an unknown. Quinta de Chocapalha is owned by the Tavares da Silva family, and the wine is made by Sandra Tavares da Silva, partner in the much better known Duoro enterprise, Wine and Soul. This is 100% Arinto, a local Lisbon grape. The wine tells a story that has nothing to do with any trends: an elegant wine, acidity driven, whose nose, showing nut oil, minerals and chalk, presents a light, feminine counterpoint to the Duoro and Dao whites. It's on par with the Niepoort whites that I adore, and I can think of few praises that would carry greater weight. (Oct. 14, 2022)

Alberto Orte, Atlántida Tinto, 2017

Alberto Orte might be my new wine hero. Like his amazing Atlántida Blanco, this comes from Cadiz, specifically Jerez - the twist is he makes table wines from the grapes forgotten when Jerez became totally enmeshed in the Sherry industry (fueled by Paolino Fino and Pedro Ximinez). The wine is made from Tintilla, which the importer, Cheers, tells me is actually the grape known as Graziano in Rioja (whoever entered the grape into CellarTracker thinks it's Trousseau). The grape is grown in just one vineyard, Pago Balbaina. It's close to the sea and the soil is chalk and clay, which helps retain the rainwater during the hot summer. To cut to the chase, the end result is amazingly fresh, scented with pepper and wet earth (think of a forest floor where the ground is packed so densely you have to struggle to smell the leaves and roots). The fruit is succulent and flavorsome, floating with light ease across the palate, even though it's at least mid-bodied. Wonderful. (Sept. 24, 2022)

Luis Pato, Bairrada, Vinha Formal, Bruto Branco, 2015

I'm probably a Champagne bigot, because almost every other sparkling wine leaves me longing for Champagne. Even the best of them. I shouldn't compare, I know, but the Champagne style is what I love the most in sparklers, and most of the time, no one does it better. This is one of the times when the sparkling wine is so different that I really can't compare it to Champagne, and it's gorgeous in its own right. It's made of the (relatively) renowned white grapes of Bairrada, Cercial and Bical. Many moons ago, I fell in love with the white wines that Luis Pato makes from these grapes. But then, for reasons I never really fathomed, recent vintages have been too low in acidity for my tastes. I don't know whether it was a vintage thing or a deliberate grape picking/wine making choice, but the wines in recent vintages have had wonderful noses but were a struggle to finish off. This is not an issue here, since a sparkling wine requires base still wines with high acidity. What we have here is a wine that really nails what I love about Cercial and Bical. A bready, exotic, herbal, salty nose: think of a focaccia made of herbs you never knew existed, with aromas that are a totally virgin experience. The palate echoes those aromas and it's ripe and racy at the same time. The bottom line, this isn't a Champagne stand-in for me, but rather a welcome upgrade of Pato's still white wines. (Oct. 19, 2022)

Ca‘ di Mat, Vinos de Madrid, Los Peros, 2018

I'll end with another Iberian wine neighboring a capital city: a single-vineyard bottling from Vinos de Madrid, a newly fashionable appellation for elegant Grenache based wines. Pale colored, slightly candied red fruit strung out over bountiful acidity and razor-edge tannins, embellished with Provencal herbs. Enjoyable now, it will gain additional weight and complexity in three-five years. (Oct. 20, 2022)

At Home He's A Tourist

2022-10-14T08:28:00.000+03:00

Cordero di Montezemolo, Barolo Monfalletto, 2017

I suspected the 2017's might be shutting down by now. Certainly, this, a dependable, enjoyable wine that is far from the top tier of Piedmont, is on the cusp of hibernation. The palate is monolithic at the start, all sour cherries, but it develops nicely, expanding and deepening ever so slowly, gaining a velvet texture and persistent grip, if not great depth or length. The aromatics are charming, albeit not extremely complex, delineated as tar, eucalyptus and roses, growing earthier. (October 7, 2022)

Zilliken, Mosel, Riesling Butterfly, 2020

Taut and focused with acidity that would be searing on any other Riesling that feels this dry, but somehow, it works, the acidity lending the lean fruit a salty backbone. Looking at the numbers, this weighs in at 11% ABV, so just maybe it's the sweet spot where Riesling seems dry when it really isn't that dry. (Sept. 19, 2022)

Emilio Lustau, Oloroso, Don Nuno, n.v.

Oloroso should be the easiest style for newcomers to handle, as it’s made from barrels where Flor died rather early or never really caught. It’s usually the closest Sherry gets to a Tawny Port, with an abundance of roasted walnuts and spices. Don Nuno, an everyday Oloroso, is a different matter. Even though it's the lowliest of Lustau's Oloroso lineup, it's not very easygoing. Made in a dry, angular, edgy style, it can be as challenging as an Amontillado or a Palo Cortado. With distinct traces of moss and iodine, probably a side-effect of all the flor spores floating around in the bodega, it's a savory wine that intensifies over the days after opening. (Sept. 20, 2022)

Emilio Lustau, Cream, East India, n.v.

With the spicy, purple fruitiness of an LBV port, and only a subtle hint of either flor or oxidation, this is a sherry that might actually require further aging. It's a Cream Sherry, which means in this case that Palomino Fino is blended with the darker, sweeter, much more viscous Pedro Ximinez grape. Because of the way it's made - The Lustau team pours hot sea water over the barrels to simulate the effects of a sea voyage - it has a special mystique that used to appeal to me. I used to be more impressed with it in the past. I honestly got more complexity out of it. Maybe the bottles I used to get in past had been on the shelves longer and perhaps additional time scoured away the creamy, fruiter aspects? Anyway, if you like an LBV, this will be right up your alley. (Sept. 22, 2022)

Weingut Günther Steinmetz, Mosel, Kestener Paulinshofberg, Riesling, 2013

Dry, 12% ABV, non-pradikat. The complexity in the nose is all in the way aromas of peaches interact with hints of salt and wet sand. On the palate, apricots and underripe pears and few of the mineral elements I got on the nose. As much as I love Steinmetz, here I find myself waiting all evening for some excitement to break. (September 28, 2022)

Werewolf By Night (Oct. 10, 2022)

2022-10-12T17:26:00.003+03:00

Movie Night - Plus Wines!

Tradición, Palo Cortado, VORS, 30 Years

I’ve drunk many fine sherries, some of the best on the market in the last twenty years, but I’ve never tasted anything quite like this. It’s not only intense and deep, but it's quite a few steps above anything I've ever encountered. The nose is orange marmalade, dark chocolate, caramelized pecans, old wood and olive brine - many Sherries, Palo Cortados specifically, present variances of this combination, but few as intense and vibrant as this, almost an HD version of Sherry. The palate is just as long and deep, savory and meaty, a touch less refined, discerningly less complex, but just as fresh as the nose and stunningly visceral. To be super-critical, it's more about power than complexity or grace - but what power! A Seventh Wonder of Jerez.

Alain Burguet, Bourgogne, Pince Vin, 2018

Gorgeous, sexy fruit right out of the gate. Sexy stink - people like me suffer through dozens of bretty bottles to get a nonbretty stink that’s this sexy. Just call it reduction and give it air to show flowers, mint, lavender. Great acidity and texture. It's a declassified village wine, but most certainly on par with a very good village wine.

Selbach-Oster, Mosel, Zeltinger Sonnehur, Riesling Feinherb, "Ur" Alte Reben, 2018

This is usually a dry wine, not as dry as GG, but dry nonetheless. In a warm vintage like 2018, it's sweeter, a true feinherb. Apples and minerals, sugar and spice - Mosel is the Land Of Plenty!

Friends and Celebrations, Pradikats and Appellations

2022-10-05T11:41:00.000+03:00

A fun evening, celebrating a friend's birthday, enough wines to make heads roll, but a very well thought-out lineup that managed to impress even while drowning us in a light alcoholic stupor.

We didn't have enough glasses for flights per se, but the wines were rolled out in themes, nonetheless.

First theme: Chardonnay.

Daniel Dampt, Chablis Premier Cru, Les Lys, 2017

Another day, another Dampt from Chablis, and a fine one it is. My first time with this Dampt, and also, I believe, my first with this Premier Cru vineyard. The nose shows lime, oranges, apple peels and just a trace of sea weed, so more a showing of breed and elegance than full blast marine. On the palate, fantastic acidity, lithe form, chalky texture and tension, a touch of richness.

Yaacov Oryah, Yaacov’s Playground, Chardonnay, Singe Vineyard, 2021

The single vineyard in question comes from Merom Golan vineyard, in stark contrast with Yaacov's beloved Negev vineyards. It also stands in stark, direct contrast with the Chablis, which, no surprise, showcases Chardonnay at its steeliest. Yaacov's development arc as a maker of white wines had him starting out picking grapes early, which gave the wines structure but also a certain lack of phenolic development - in other words, lack of flavors. I speak from personal experience with the wines, which echoes what Yaacov said at the tasting, with gracious personal honesty: the wines lack content and stuffing. Yaacov did not walk away from the challenge, nor did he stick out with his initial dogma. He started to treat this vineyard as truly his playground, making multiple harvests, some early, some not so early, picking and fermenting the grapes in separate batches, some with skin contact, before making the final blend. The resulting wine is still too young to praise or even fully appraise. The nose and palate initially impress as a fairly balanced Israeli Chardonnay, not too ripe given the context, but certainly fleshier and less racy than the Chablis. It slowly starts to exude minerals and it's certainly both elegant and warm. But, that's really all I can tell right now, except that it certainly is not deficient in stuffing.

Next, dry German Rieslings.

Steinmetz, Mosel, Piesporter Treppchen, von den Terrassen, 2020

Steinmetz' dry Rieslings are among the friendliest dry German Rieslings I've drunk. The acidity and minerals are always so well integrated with the fruit that even in their youth, you don't long for a touch of sweetness to embrace them. This is no exception. It offers the simplicity of youth, a still limited palette of sweet red apples and minerals, but the balance and hints of tension promise good things ahead.

Martin Müllen, Mosel, Trarbacher Hühnerberg, Riesling Spätlese Trocken* , 2016

Müllen, apparently, is a relatively new star in the Mosel, with the critics' scores to back his new found fame. This, for example, received at least one score of 99. Spend enough time on the wine geek's treadwheel and you'll end up tasting a 99-pointer, even a 100-pointer. It's always a challenge to figure out: is it worth it? Obviously, we all have our own criteria. I probably give expression a lot of weight, less than others for balance. Taking all that into consideration, as well as the wine's outstanding development in glass, 99 points is probably within its grasp, certainly not an absurdity. The palate is fresh and vivacious - the purity of the fruit is convincing. It's balanced and restrained, despite the fruit being, at its core, the essence of tropical. Tropical fruit often make for flashy, exuberant wines, but I suppose not all tropical fruit are of a kind and this is certainly a very restrained wine, on both nose and palate. Initially, there are minerals in the background, but they slowly come to the fore. There's a hint of sweetness before finishing with grapefruit flavors.

Two VDP wines proudly bearing the Großes Gewächs badge of honor, which, as usual, signifies "don't touch - yet!"

Dönnhoff, Nahe, Schloßböckelheimer Felsenberg, Riesling Großes Gewächs, 2018

The toughest of the pair, with light reduction on the nose, highlighting minerals. Clenched shut.

Zilliken, Mosel, Saarburg Rausch, Riesling Großes Gewächs, 2018

Easier to approach and appreciate its precision. The nose is an apple pie drained of sweetness, the palate austere, its flavors hovering on the fringes.

On to Pinot Noir and Burgundy.

Spater-Veit, Mosel, Pinot Noir, Reserve, 2014

Mosel is not the most obvious source for German Pinot Noir. The result here has black pepper and a stink I found Syrah like at first. If Burgundy is autumnal forest floor - falling leaves starting to rot - this is a colder, darker, more brooding forest, straight out a Grimm Brothers tale. I liked it more than than others.

Yaacov Oryah, Black Pinecone, 2019

A Pinot Noir inadvertently (?) referencing New Zealand. The nose is very much red fruit, not an easy achievement in Israel, Pinot's vegetal aspect showing as a touch of herbs, not forest floor. The palate shows a good balance of plump red fruit and soft tannins. Not a world beater, but certainly a charmer.

Chauvenet-Chopin, Nuits-Saint-Georges Premier Cru, Aux Argillas, 2010

A little ripe at first, the nose showing coffee grains, spices, leaves. On the palate, I find less structure than I’d expect from a 2010.

Domaine de Montille, Volnay Premier Cru, Les Taillepieds, 2016

This is young, of course, arguably way too young, but nevertheless starting to show the Montille magic. A perfect balance of red/black fruit, wet earth and leaves on the nose. The structure is excellent, dense, semi-monolithic, yet with enough space to allow nuances and hint at potential.

And this we called the dessert flight, with a qualified reservation.

Matthias Müller, Mittelrhein Bopparder, Hamm Engelstein, Riesling Beerenauslese, 1994

Caught at the point in the Riesling development curve where the sweetness is receding, showing brown sugar and candied orange and clementine peels, backed by lively acidity. The nose is a distillation of orange candy, with enough shading and spicy notes to evoke complexity.

Selbach-Oster, Mosel, Rotlay, 2018

Rotlay is Hans Selbach's grand terroir experiment, a single lot from the Zeltinger Sonnenuhr vineyard (ie, the Rotlay lot on the label) harvested at one pass, the result usually with enough oechsle to qualify as an Auselse. I would argue that you would only approach it as a dessert wine at such an early age. The nose is complex, the palate is complex, showing a good balance of fruit, acidity and sugar. One of the best Rotlays I’ve had, perhaps the ripe vintage gave it extra drinkability at the cost of potential.