Did she really say that?
Washington governor Chris Gregoire, at a public event: “Someone asked me what about California wine, and I said they make jug wine. We make fine wine!”
Who writes her lines, Paul Gregutt?
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“Wine investments: how to avoid the £100m scammers” is the headline on this Yahoo Finance story out of the U.K.
Seems “A recent BBC investigation estimated that as much as £100 million may have been lost by investors over the past four years.” So, the writer asks, how best to protect yourself from getting ripped off? The solution is–ta da!– “…critic Robert Parker [who] is the Warren Buffett of the wine investment world. What he says goes.”
Gag me with a spoon.
Here’s my advice on how not to get ripped off: Stop looking at wine as an investment and start drinking it!
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Go spruik yourself
The headline of an online article from thewest.com, an Aussie pub:
Wine growers spruik new law
Not being of the Australian persuasion, I had to Google “spruik.”
To promote a thing or idea to another person, in order that they buy the thing, or accept the idea. e.g., Lennon spruiks laptop 28 years after his death — Headline, Sydney Morning Herald, December 30, 2008
Now, if I could only get Elvis to spruik my blog, it might actually make money!
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And finally, some advice to “Bachelor Ben” Flajnik: I love you, baby, and your pals Mikey and Danny, but dudes, that Bachelor thing is so over! I mean, Ben, you’re still milking it even after nobody remembers a thing about the actual show, except that those grrrrlz were really baring their claws all season while you just, well, looked cute. It doesn’t help to grant an interview and then play make-believe by saying (as you did to Peg Melnik, at the Press-Democrat) that you’d only talk to her on “wine-related” issues, when you knew fer sher she’s gonna go there because, Ben, Peg wouldn’t have asked to interview you in the first place if you hadn’t starred in The Bachelor!
You guys should stop all interviews now. Immediately. Concentrate on the business. Make great wine. Get your s**t together. Then wait for the reporters to come to you cuz you’re making killer wine. I will, if you do. Promise.
I don’t know Jennifer Porter, the new head of the Paso Robles Wine Country Alliance, but I wish her well. She’s got big shoes to fill, taking over from Stacie Jacob, with whom I and Wine Enthusiast worked on several occasions over the years. Paso Robles is one of the big success stories in California. There was no guarantee this inland San Luis Obispo County appellation could become a hit, but it has. Good luck Jennifer!
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What’s that old saying, Dance with the one that brung ya? It’s meant to suggest loyalty to those who never let you down, and I guess that’s why Diageo renewed their contract with Southern Wines & Spirits.
These are two big companies that have discovered life is infinitely better together than apart. Readers of this blog know that I’ve expressed frustration with the three-tiered system and its domination by big distributors, like Southern. But I’ve been put in my place on more than one occasion by people I respect who explained to me that lots of wineries simply couldn’t do business without the distributors. So I’ve officially taken a neutral position on this topic.
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Speaking of happy marriages, one of Bordeaux’s oldest, most prestigious wine schools is fighting falling enrollment by extending its arms to–who else?–Chinese students. I guess you sell your stuff to whoever’s buying!
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Oh, those naughty wine economists! Now they’ve discovered that “monogamous societies are bigger drinkers than those in polygamous societies,” or, to put it another way, “monogamy was indeed positively correlated with drunkenness.”
I wonder how they did their research? As much as I respect economists (did I really say that?), it’s hard for me to believe that the more you drink, the more likely you are to commit yourself to a single partner. But what do I know?
* * *
I have newfound respect for the people of Oregon–at least, those who listen to Oregon Public Radio. Their top story of the week was about Oregon’s cool, rainy wine season, which was even worse this year than California’s, because they’re that much closer to Alaska. I can’t imagine the top story of the week on KQED radio being the vintage weather. Go, Oregon wine people, go.
* * *
Finally, there’s this bizzaro story about a family who got lost in a corn maze and had to call 911 to rescue them. It was in Massachusetts, a state I lived in for 16 years after moving from NYC, and while I knew plenty of strange people there, I can’t imagine getting lost in a corn maze when actually they were only yards away from a nearby road. On the other hand, I did once get lost in a vineyard. It was Firestone’s, down in the Santa Ynez Valley, and the only reason I didn’t call 911 was because I would have been too embarrassed to tell them I didn’t know where I was. Obviously, I survived.
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That’s it for today. What, you expected Shakespeare?
There was a classic temperature spectrum yesterday in Napa Valley. At Pride winery, 2,200 feet up on Spring Mountain, it was 88 degrees on my dashboard thermometer when I left, around 1 p.m. At the Rutherford-Oakville line, about 20 minutes later, it was 100. This showed dramatically how true it is that the mountains are cooler than the valley floor on a hot summer day–although it’s true also that they’re warmer at night.
But wait, there’s more! That 100-degree reading lasted only for a few minutes. By the time I’d reached southern Oakville, it was 99, and it stayed in the high 90s all the way through Yountville and southward toward Napa city. This is just anecdotal, but in all the years I’ve driven Highway 29 I’ve been struck by how little the temperature cools down from Oakville to Yountville to Napa on a day such as yesterday. The conventional wisdom is, of course, that it does, but it never seems to on my dashboard thermometer. Sometimes it’s hotter.
Anyway, by Vallejo (which I guess you could call Carneros) it was 92. Those Bay breezes were kicking in. By the time I got to Emeryville, it was 77, around 2 p.m. But the temperature hit 93 yesterday at Oakland Airport, so, in the end, it was hot everywhere.
Just what the grapes needed! After all the talk about how cool the 2011 vintage has been, this multi-day heat event has vintners’ hearts fluttering. It’s been just warm enough to speed up the ripening process, but we haven’t got the kind of devastating heat wave we got, for instance, last year, when the last week of August blasted grapes. So the theory now is that the vintage, while light in crop, could be very high in quality. That is, if it doesn’t rain. A lot of the late-ripening grapes aren’t likely to be picked until October and some could go into November. As a matter of fact, at Pride yesterday, they were telling us how, on occasion, they’re still picking into December! But I don’t see that happening this year.
It’s not over until the fat winemaker crushes the last of the grapes, but 2011 could be a good one.
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I like Jordan, both as a concept and as wine. By “concept” I mean the idea that they want to make wine that’s a little lighter in style than a lot of the competition. I seldom give Jordan Cabernet the high scores that, say, I give to Stonestreet or Rodney Strong (to pick two other Alexander Valley Cabs), nor do I give the kind of high scores to Jordan’s Chardonnay I give to other Russian River Valley Chards, such as Lynmar or Marimar Torres.
But I would happily order a Jordan wine from a wine list in a great restaurant (and Jordan is on many great wine lists), because I’d know that the wine would be balanced and complex and not try to compete with the food. Now, before the anti-score crowd jumps on me, let me explain that a high-scoring wine is based on intensity, or hedonistic fascination, or organoleptic richness (there are different ways of expressing it). They are wines, tasted without food, that impress for sheer power. That means, by definition, that they may not be the best accompaniment with actual food. By way of analogy, it’s like seeing a fabulous designer dress at a runway show. You might appreciate how well it’s made, how gorgeous it is to look at, how rich the fabric and stitching, etc. At the same time, you’d never wear it (if you’re a woman), and, if you’re a man, you don’t know anybody who ever would or could wear it; which makes it impractical for realistic purposes. Still, you can appreciate that it’s a better dress than almost anything you actually see on the street.
That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t happily drink Marimar Chardonnay or Stonestreet Cabernet whenever I can at the table. But I would also be happy with Jordan.
What would you do if you owned a popular vineyard, one whose name the public likes and trusts, and you were selling fruit to so many buyers that some of them were bound to make–indeed, have track records for making–mediocre wine?
Do you drop them from your list, hoping to preserve your vineyard’s good name? Do you let them continue to buy your grapes, because after all, cash is king these days? Or do you tell them they can continue to buy your grapes, but if you, the owner, don’t like the resulting wines, they can’t use the vineyard designation?
Big, complicated, important questions. I’ve asked it of many vineyard owners. Sometimes, they tell me they run taste tests on the wines, a la the third option I outlined above. But I don’t necessarily believe it. I taste too many mediocre wines from well-known vineyards.
The take home lesson for consumers is, just because a label sports a famous vineyard name doesn’t mean diddly. I suppose it increases the odds that the wine will be distinguished, but it doesn’t guarantee it. In wine, there are no guarantees.
How, then, is the befuddled consumer to know what to buy? Well, of course, she could always turn to a famous critic for his trusted advice. That’s how it’s been done traditionally.
But wait! “Tradition’s a thing of the past,” you say. “Nowadays we have the Internet, which is changing everything. Because of social media, wine critiquing can be democratized. Everybody has a vote, not just some critic in an ivory tower.”
Today, 1WineDude is recommending a radical change in how wine is critiqued on an institutional basis. (At least, I think he’s recommending it. His posting is full of all kinds of qualifiers. I think 1WineDude must be one of those “on the one hand, on the other hand” guys–a Libra or Gemini, maybe? Something schizy–because he often seems to wrestle with which side of an issue to come down on. Which isn’t a bad thing, actually. I wish more of our politicians would be so thoughtful. But I digress.)
The Dude is calling for Internet people to use a simple “Like button to indicate whether or not they care for a wine. That way, wine reviewing more closely resembles an election that the thoughtful, considered expertise of a professionally trained wine critic who has the knowledge, wisdom and background to properly evaluate a wine, as opposed to the animal urges of the great unwashed boobocracy, whose tragic misunderstanding of complicated issues gives us, through the magic of elections, the very nincompoops who are presently paralyzing our government…
Wait a minute, that was a rant! Let me try again.
1WineDude is offering this social media option as a viable and more democratic alternative to the current system. He says it’s inevitable anyway, and he’s probably right about that. But then, sickness, war and the Rick “Man on Dog” Santorum are inevitable too. Would you ever go out and buy a wine because you read someplace that 747,000 people “liked” it? You don’t know who these people are. They could be inmates in insane asylums. They could be in China. They could be zombies. I personally wouldn’t do anything on the recommendation of complete strangers. If my friend tells me to go see a movie, I might, and if someone whose palate I really trust tells me I simply must try a certain wine, I probably would. That’s how word of mouth works, and that’s how I think it’s going to work in the future.
Oh boy, here I am all worked up, and it’s not even 7:30 a.m.!
* * *
This morning’s S.F. Chronicle finally has the story (on page 1) I’ve been waiting to read for 5 years:
“California’s coastal regions appear to be getting more rain and cold weather while inland areas such as Fresno are getting hotter,” the reporter writes. This has been obvious to all of us who live on the coast, where summers have been getting shorter and winters colder. A weatherman once explained to me that the interior mountain west is getting hotter, creating a gigantic suction cup that brings in cool air from the Pacific–and we all know where that maritime air hits first: the coast. This is climate change, and it is resulting in uneven distributions of temperature.
So I’m not buying into predictions that Napa’s going to turn into some kind of Sahara, with grapegrowing moving northward into the Yukon Territory. Check out this article from a couple days ago, where the writer allows that “higher regional temperatures could make the Napa Valley cooler, as heat farther east creates a ‘vacuum effect’ that draws ocean fog inland”–just as today’s Chronicle says. What’s unknown is whether the fog belt might migrate closer to the coast than it is today, “leaving Napa Valley vulnerable to higher temperatures.”
If you know the Bay Area’s microclimates, you know how weird they are. But really, I can’t see Napa being out of the fog influence. The fog rushes into San Francisco Bay, heads up to San Pablo Bay, then spills over into the Carneros, from where it rides up the Napa Valley floor. You could argue that the northwestern Napa Valley–say, St. Helena and Calistoga–might get warmer, but everybody up there always talks about “the Chalk Hill” (or “Calistoga”) wind gap through which Napa Valley gets maritime influence from Sonoma. That doesn’t seem likely to change. Sacramento might find itself more out of the cool zone, but not Napa Valley. That’s just my opinion, but don’t forget, I have a Master’s Degree.
I’ve been getting into a category of wine I don’t write about much, dessert wines. Although they’re largely absent from my consciousness for much of the year, about this time they start coming in for review, probably, I suspect, for the holidays. Right now I’m drinking and vastly enjoying Quady’s 2009 Essensia Orange Muscat. It’s decadently sweet, and to sip it you’d swear you were transported to some heaven where the streets are lined with oranges and tangerines. At just $25 for a full 750-milliliter bottle (most dessert wines are in 375s), it’s a good value. I could see drinking this wine almost anytime–at lunch with a smoked trout salad or ham sandwich, at 5 p.m. as a refreshing cocktail, even during dinner with a steak. Steak and Orange Muscat? Why not. Professor Saintsbury reports a dinner he served, probably in the late 1800s, at which 1870 Yquem was paired with “consommé and grilled red mullet” and another when “Sauterne, 1874” went with a “Zootje of Sole” and “Mutton Cutlets.” (And as best as I can tell, “Zootje” is a traditional Dutch dish of poached sole and potatoes in a butter sauce.) Then there is the marriage of Yquem with roast beef, a combination that goes back at least to the 19th century, and was resurrected (in Jeremiah Tower’s first book, “New American Classics”), in which he praised Yquem with with a ”rich, aged, perfectly cooked roast beef.”
So Orange Muscat and steak isn’t a stretch.
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I’m reading a terrific wine book, Rhône Renaissance, by Remington Norman, with a forward by Hugh Johnson. Although it was published more than ten years ago, I’d never heard of it, until I found it in a local used bookstore. At $2.99, I had to snatch it up.
It’s definitely in the Johnson mold, hard-covered, good paper, great, detailed maps and written in a literary style (although it is not without typos. I don’t think I ever saw a typo in a Hugh Johnson book). I’m reading the section on Côte-Rôtie and am struck, once again, by the complexities and peculiarities of France’s appellation system. The Côte-Rôtie appellation apparently has been changed several times in recent decades, swelling to far beyond its original 1940 boundaries until it had extended into areas that were patently unsuitable. The result of that was a 1993 readjustment of the boundaries that shrank it back to its present size. It all goes to show how political appellation lines are, although it must also be conceded that, in the best of cases, they rest on firm realities. In the case of Côte-Rôtie, of course, these realities include, most importantly, southern or southeastern exposures and steep slopes. The actual Côte-Rôtie appellation makes a great deal of sense.
What appellations in California make the most sense? It’s easier to list the ones that don’t, which would be most of them. The bigger an appellation is, the less you can say about it, except in the most general terms. “Burgundy” and “Sonoma County” both are big appellations; the former makes a little more sense because the authorities limit the grapes there, so at least you can declare that a red Burgundy will have a certain varietal character. You can’t say that about a red Sonoma County wine, which could be made from any variety in the world. So “Sonoma County” is of limited usefulness, unless you believe that, if it comes from Sonoma County, it must be good.
But just because an appellation is small is equally meaningless. The smallest AVAs in California, by acreage, are Cole Ranch (150), El Dorado (416) and McDowell Valley (540). There’s not much you can say about any of these. (“El Dorado” is not the same as “El Dorado County,” which measures 410,000 acres.) On the other hand, the fourth-smallest AVA in California (I’m going by Wine Institute figures) is Anderson Valley, at 600 acres, and you can definitely point out a distinguishing, and fine, character to its wines. So let’s postulate for now that Anderson Valley is the sine qua non of California appellations.
Another point that author Norman makes in Rhône Renaissance is how, when Côtie-Rôtie had fallen more or less into irrelevance, its boosters did certain things to restore it to its previous greatness. They lured in investment money to replant on the best slopes. They formed a Syndicat, or regional growers association. They created a tourist infrastructure in and around the town of Ampuis, with restaurants, shops and winery signposts. They “brought…media to the region in unprecedented numbers.” Surely, these are lessons some California appellations have learned, and that others are in the process of learning.
The wine was a 6-liter bottle of 1947 Cheval Blanc, a wine I’ve been lucky enough to taste twice. However, I believe the story, which was widely reported across the world’s news services, got it terribly wrong when it describes the bottle as a “white wine.” So far as I know, Cheval Blanc produces no white wine; the vineyard consists of red varieties. Perhaps the writer was confused by the fact that Cheval Blanc, translated into English, means “white horse.” At any rate, this is a prime example of how bad reporting can spread virally across the Internet, with no corrective except for a little blog like this. (And if I’m wrong and the wine really was blanc, I’m sure someone will correct this corrective.)
Just to make sure whiskey doesn’t feel left out of the ridiculously-priced sweepstakes, somebody just paid a record amount for an old Macallan.
Anyhow, the wine world has been dying to know who is paying these sky-high prices for truffles, wine and Scotch. Now it can be told. In a steveheimoff.com exclusive, I have learned this person’s identity. He is none other than The World’s Most Interesting Man, the Dos Equis guy.
* * *
It was over a leisurely lunch of paté, crevettes in a sauce boursin, portobello mushrooms stuffed with four cheeses, smoked salmon on toasted baguettes and a lovely bowl of onion soup (all of it washed down with 20-year old vintage Champagne) that I learned of the United Nations’ decision to declare French gastronomy a treasure of world culture.
French food and wine, and the art of enjoying it with family and friends at the table, now joins 911 other “properties” identified by UNESCO as “forming part of the [world’s] cultural and natural heritage.” These include Australia’s Great Barrier Reef, the Historic Centre of Vienna, California’s own Yosemite National Park and Israel’s Masada where, in the Spring of 73 A.D., 960 Jewish inhabitants committed mass suicide in order to prevent their capture by Roman legions.
In a world gone mad, it is good that the U.N., that maligned organization, can recognize French cuisine as one of the greatest cultural achievements ever devised by humanity.
* * *
With the coming of the Holiday Season, wine writers ascend into a frenzy of activity recommending what wines to drink with whatever is on the table, which is usually a lot of everything. You don’t really want to over-stress on the wine-and-food pairing thing. Put out a bunch of stuff and let people reach for whatever they want. Happy Thanksgiving!