Four for the Fifth

On the Fourth of July, I was far too busy wishing I was in Monaco to give much thought to what’s probably the biggest backyard BBQ holiday in America. A relaxed Sunday brought the opportunity to at least give tradition a nod, with some easy cheeseburgers and asparagus on the grill along with a potfull of early season corn on the cob. What we chose to drink seemed appropriate enough to the food if not the holiday.


Rheinhessen Grüner Silvaner trocken, Wittmann 2006
$28. 12% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Frederick Wildman, New York, NY.
Glowing medium yellow in the glass, with aromas of corn, fresh pressed linen and crisp green pear.s At once rich and nervy on the palate, ever so slightly pétillant and showing a few graciously handled grams of RS. My first tasting impressions were hazy but one thing was certain right away: the wine has amazing length. Spätlese-like extract levels stain the palate, the wine’s flavors clinging with great tenacity. There’s also a great mineral depth lurking behind the up front pear and garden-fresh flavors. Much richer and more intense than Keller’s estate Silvaner trocken, and correspondingly more expensive.


Saumur-Champigny “Terres Chaudes,” Domaine des Roches Neuves (Thierry Germain) 2006
$25. 13% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Vos Selections, New York, NY.
This displayed the side of Loire Cabernet Franc that still sometimes leaves me scratching my head, showing aromas that nudge right up against those often associated with TCA though absolutely not corked. It’s little wonder that so many people have a hard time coming to grips with Cab Franc. In the end, just to be clear, I did like the wine. It showed lots of pepper – both black peppercorns and bell peppers – balanced by juicy plum and blackberry fruit. With a little time in the glass, it showed more aromatic depth: sweat, blood, pencil lead and some animal character. Firmly tannic, slightly low on the acid front and a little bit awkward, this needs some more time in the cellar to find its harmony though I expect it will always be more intriguing than elegant. It also needs meat on the table, so was a happy match with our burgers.

After an incredibly rainy June, the weather 'round here's been delightful of late. A fine night for dining al fresco, complete with patio flames as tended by Fireman Bill.


Rioja Crianza “Viña Cubillo,” R. Lopez de Heredia 2002
$22. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: USA Wine Imports, New York, NY.
65% Tempranillo, 25% Garnacho, 5% Graciano and 5% Mazuelo. Medium red, with faint garnet, brick hues. Its nose of forest floor and dried cherry tobacco hints at the beginnings of maturity yet the wines was juicy and sprightly as could be on the palate. This is Heredia’s “everyday wine” – and a really tremendous value. Beef jerky and dried cherries develop on the nose, as does a leathery streak on the mid-rear palate. But above all, the wine has energy and spirit. It’s as if you can taste the striations of the vines – sinewy, cut and fully detailed yet with no sense of clinical precision. I’ve heard of some bottle variation with this vintage – the last bottle I opened was corked, but that’s another story. This one was singing.


Moulin à Vent “La Réserve d’Amélie,” Domaine Gérard Charvet 2002
$16 on release. 13% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Wine Traditions, Falls Church, VA.
This we opened just to check in on its progress. My notes read something like this: “Pepper eau de vie, pepper juice, black pepper tea, brined green peppercorns….” You get the idea. Either I was wrong about this one when it was released or it’s going through an extremely strange stage. I’m heavily inclined to think the former is the case. When young, this was delicious and showed what I though was great potential. Now, though, it’s not exactly shot but it’s far from becoming. My last bottle is going into the experimental bin for a final examination a few years down the road. You’ll find slightly less disappointing notes on the 2004 vintage here, though my dining companions on this Fifth of July related that their last bottle of ’04, opened recently, was in a less enjoyable state than was this bottle of ’02. A never ending mystery….

Intro only...

Robert Camuto at the Tour de France

As hinted at and hoped for in my last post, today’s story takes us right back to Le Tour de France; this time, though, we get to experience it through the eyes of someone who is actually there.

Robert Camuto and I first made the cycling connection after I reviewed his book, Corkscrewed: Adventures in the New French Wine Country. When I saw Robert’s photos (on Facebook) of his day spent with friends watching Stage Two of the Tour, I had to ask him if he’d be interested in writing about the experience here at MFWT.

Robert is a frequent freelance contributor to Wine Spectator and many other print publications. You can follow his regular adventures at Corkscrewed.info. Needless to say, I’m excited to welcome him here as guest blogger today. So please read on and enjoy!



It’s Not About the Bikes: The Tour de France Passes Chez Nous

By Robert Camuto

I always wondered why it is so many wine lovers enjoy watching professional cycling. And I finally figured it out: It’s one sport you can drink wine with and really feel like you’re part of the event. (The vinous equivalent of the relationship between weak, gassy beer and the NFL).

What it took for me to grasp the obvious was the Tour de France running right by my house—I mean on the street right outside last Sunday. In other words, the road that we use every day to go to the bakery or the post office or to carpool was transformed into the pitch for the world’s third most viewed sporting event (after the Olympics and the Soccer World Cup). And the sidewalks that day were turned into one 100-mile tailgate party.

The Tour de France is, of course, much more than a sporting event. MUCH much more: It’s a three-week national (actually international as it crosses France’s borders) street party. Most people in France couldn’t name more than one or two cyclists in the race or explain the teams and point system. But that’s not the point. The point is all about ambience, which, not surprisingly, is a French word. From a public point of view there is more effort put into the pre- and post- race festivities than the actual race which whizzes by in a few seconds.


A big part of ambience is the gorgeous vistas, the villages and France’s terroirs. Yes terroirs. It would be one thing for me to sit here and write about the steep contours of the Pyrenées or the Luberon mountains, or to even show you pictures. It’s quite another thing to see cyclists straining to crawl up those rocks in the summer heat as the asphalt practically melts.

The whole ambience and terroir thing not only complements the wines—it makes them taste even better! I can assure you that for the grueling mountain finale up Mont Ventoux on July 25, I will be raising a glass of some modest Côtes du Ventoux which on that day will taste more profound than Domaine de la Romanée-Conti.


When race day arrived we had only an approximate idea how many friends and neighbors would be showing up for our race-watching party and barbecue. (It turned out to be about 20. I still haven’t made a final count.) Because the actual road was closed off from 11 a.m.—about three hours before the pack of cyclists came though —everyone had to arrive at least part of the way on foot.

Picking the wines for the occasion was not too difficult. It was hot. It’s summer in Provence, and on this day the tour left Monaco for Brignoles—right in the heart of rosé country.

The overall quality of Provence rosés has increased so dramatically in recent years it has made lists of star producers obsolete. If the wine is to be served on a cool evening I’ll go for a complex, darker Bandol or Coteaux d’Aix. For an afternoon rosé, I like to keep it simple: paler smooth-drinking wines made without headache-inducing chemicals priced between 5 and 10 Euros the bottle from appellations like Cotes-de-Provence, Coteaux Varois, Palette, Corsica and (the hilltop AOC in Nice) Bellet.

For the tour, we skipped bottles altogether and went B.I.B. (less waste, cost) with 5-liter packages of two Grenache-Cinsault-Syrah blends from the Var not far from the Tour’s stopping point that day: a delicious rose-petal colored wine from (organic producer) Domaine de La Grande Pallière followed by a salmon-pink wine from Domaine Thuerry.


We began gathering on the sidewalk around noon. That morning we’d installed the LANCE OUI CAN! sign on our front wall, and on our fence we posed a baguette marked with “Just Do It” in yellow (official Livestrong) chalk. About an hour before the cyclists comes the arrival of the caravane—the parade of wildly decorated publicity vehicles that tosses out free caps, bottles of water, saucisson and candy.

The neighborhoods of our village emptied to gather along the route, and we talked to neighbors we’d never met, shared rosé with a television crew that had stopped to film us, cheered for products, banks and companies that we don’t even know or like without any thought, and called out bravo! to the French riot cops on motorcycle.

Then–after their caravan passed—there was this deep, strange silence as we waited for the Tour to arrive. When the cyclists did arrive, the crowds exploded in cheers. There were four cyclists out front and then a few seconds behind, the peloton – the pack of unimaginably close riders pedaling workmanlike.


“Did you see him?” friends ask. Well yeah, sort of. I mean I could never tell you which particular part of that multi-colored blur that flew past us was Lance Armstrong.

While the cyclists continued their work for another two hours, we fired up the barbecue and ate and drank—summer salads accompanied by delicious grilled Merguez (lamb) and Chipolatas (veal) from an Arab- Hallal butcher in Grasse. (These butchers make some of the best artisanal sausage in France now.)

For the second round of barbecue, we brought out bottles of the red wine I made in my garage with friend and wine collaborator Ken McNeill. Our 2008 cuvée of 2 Gars Rouge (Two Guys- Red) is made from Carignan (also picked in the Var) from the vineyards of our friends at Domaine Borrely-Martin. It was young and fruity and good and nobody was making tasting notes.

The Tour de France isn’t—to paraphrase Lance—about the bikes. Just like wine isn’t really about the notes or about how many flavors you can identify in a glass, or about making a lifestyle statement. It’s all about sharing nourishment, this miracle of fermentation, and some moments together.

* * *
Buy Robert's book.
And like Cory said, not a used copy.
Like the baguette says, just do it!

Intro only...

And So It Begins Again

Le Tour de France. For the 96th time in 106 years, the Tour began the annual pageantry of its circuit around France on Saturday. Most Americans may have been busy that morning preparing for their 4th of July festivities. I on the other hand was glued to the tube, forgoing the Wimbledon women’s finals – not to mention the possibility of a bike ride of my own – to watch the opening time trial of this year’s Tour.

Stage One:

Fabian Cancellara crushed it, storming the 15.5 km time trial course in and around the principality of Monaco nearly 20 seconds faster than his nearest rival. Monaco served as an epically beautiful starting point for this year’s race, even though, as the second smallest country in the world, a crossing into France was required as there aren’t 15.5 kilometers of suitable roadway in Monaco. (Trivia award of the day to anyone who can tell us what the smallest country is.)

Ever since I started this blog a couple of years back, I’ve thought about what a great idea it would be to map out a wine trail that follows the Tour route, writing up a wine or wine region (or beer or cheese, when necessary) that matches up with some point along the road of each day’s stage. But I’ve never managed to plan well enough ahead to lay it all out. This year, I didn’t even come up with an entirely appropriate pairing for day one. I’m not aware of any wine being produced in Monaco, so Provençal rosé would have made the most sense. Not a bottle in my cellar at the moment though… sad but true. Champagne might have been a fittingly celebratory substitute but, believe it or not, I wasn’t in the mood for wine that early in the day. Besides, bubbly is even more appropriate for the final day in Paris. So, given the race on the Riviera and the Swiss stage winner, I opted for something not too far off.

Coste della Sesia “Rosa del Rosa,” Proprietà Sperino 2008
$18. 12.5% alcohol. Diam. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.
If you’re interested in somewhat detailed background information about Proprietà Sperino’s “Rosa del Rosa,” a Nebbiolo dominated rosé from Paolo de Marchi’s estate in Lessona, check out the review of the 2007 I wrote for WBW 47. For today’s purposes, suffice it to say that the 2008 is the color of a perfect slice of watermelon, right down to the pale greenish rind around the rim of the glass. In the mouth, it’s slightly frizzante – some bottles more so than others – and full of cranapple snap. Less complex than the 2007 in aromatic and textural terms, it’s still wonderfully refreshing, fruity and flavorful. Not too shabby an accompaniment to a dinner of pasta with a quick garden vegetable sauce.

Stage Two:
The first road race of this year’s Tour, Sunday’s stage left Monaco, following briefly along the Côte d’Azur before swinging upland through the heart of the Var. While I did get to drink some cool wines on Sunday, none were from Provence, the Rhone or the Var, much less from the Isle of Man, home of stage two winner Mark Cavendish. Perhaps I can coax Robert Camuto, author of Corkscrewed and recent contributor of a great segment to 31 Days of Natural Wine at Saignée, into guest blogging about his experiences – and what he drank of course. Sunday's stage passed directly in front of his house in the Var Department. That's him below, being interviewed by a press crew from France 2.



Much More to Come:

This year’s course is a strange one. Starting in the extreme southeastern corner of the country, it runs clockwise, eventually doubling back very close to where it’s passing in the first few days for the penultimate stage finish atop Mont Ventoux. From there, of course, there’s a transfer to the outskirts of Paris for the now classic and largely ceremonial yet still ferociously contested finishing circuits around the Champs-Élysées. As mentioned earlier, 21 Jours des Vins du Tour de France is not to be this year. But I imagine I will make another stage stop or two along the virtual route. Enjoy the race, all.

Intro only...

My Favorite Beer Shop

The Beeryard.
Disturbing location, delightful selection.

Intro only...

Graves in Chinon

I love Chinon. There, I said it. While the wine producing communes of Chinon have hardly been mapped, dissected and defined to the extent of the vineyards of Burgundy’s Côte d’Or or the Mosel in Germany, one thing that makes Chinon so continuously compelling to me is the way its best wines express the area’s diversity of terroir. Clay, sand, limestone and gravel; riverbanks, flatlands, hillsides and plateaus; it’s all there, in various shapes, mixtures and forms.

It doesn’t seem coincidental to me that some of my favorite wines for everyday drinking come from the gravel rich soils near the banks of the Vienne River in the commune of Cravant les Coteaux. Wines like “Les Granges” and “Le Domaine” from Bernard and Matthieu Baudry, which I’ve really been enjoying over the past few years. Or like the Chinon “Les Graves,” from Domaine Fabrice Gasnier, a wine that’s been among my house pours for over a decade now. They’re not generally the most serious or structured wines of Chinon. Rather, they’re more wines of ease and clarity – great with food and built for regular enjoyment. But when they’re on, they’re still serious in the way they express their origins. When I drink wines such as those above, it’s as if I taste blueberries, plums, cherries, cassis, and fresh, savory herbs that have all been muddled by and macerated with the very gravel of the vineyards from which they sprang. And it’s as if I can feel the texture of that gravel in the fine-grained tannins and cool texture of the wines.

Needless to say then, I’m always on the lookout for Chinons, from the area and in this style, that are new to me. Here's one I got to know recently; if you have any other gravelly favorites, please do let me know.


Chinon “Tradition Graves,” Domaine les Chesnaies (Béatrice et Pascal Lambert) 2006
$17. 13% alcohol. Diam. Importer: A Thomas Calder Selection, Potomac Selections, Landover, MD.

Pascal and Béatrice Lambert are relative newcomers to Cravant les Coteaux, having established their 14-hectare estate, Domaine les Chesnaies, in 1987. Their wines – five reds, two rosés and three whites – are made solely from Cabernet Franc (or Breton, as it’s often called locally) for the reds and rosés and Chenin Blanc (or Pineau de la Loire) for the whites. All fruit is hand-harvested, with fermentation and aging disciplines varying based on the nature of each cuvée. The label of their “Tradition Graves” tells us – “Vin issu de raisins en conversion vers l'agriculture biologique certifié par Écocert” – that they’re in the process of conversion to organic farming. Actually, they’ve been working toward biodynamic conversion since 2004 but apparently are planning on organic rather than biodynamic certification.

“Tradition Graves” is produced from 25-50 year old vines of Cabernet Franc planted in gravel, clay and flint rich soils. After a maceration and fermentation of 18-30 days depending on the vintage, the wine ages for 12-18 months in steel tanks prior to bottling.

Medium bodied and firmly tannic, it displays classic aromas of tree bark, dried herbs, red cassis, plum skins and moist soil. As the wine unfolds a bit, there are also distinct whiffs of both menthol and Virginia tobacco. In fact, after an hour of air the wine becomes even more aromatic, with all the elements building rather than changing. I get the sense through the wine’s red fruit dominated palate and its grip, more firm than textured, that the clay in Lambert’s soil is expressing itself, grappling with the gravel for which the wine is named. Day two brought a rounder, plusher and somewhat simpler mouthfeel, but with all those stemmy, barky, spicy aromas and minerally red fruit still intact. Though lacking the energy and brooding nature of Baudry’s gravel-based cuvées and not as bright and fresh as Gasnier’s “Les Graves,” this is nonetheless quite compelling Chinon.

Intro only...

Châteaumeillant in Focus

Looking to stump your favorite geek of French wines? Or at least throw him a curveball? The upper, outer reaches of the Loire might not be a bad place to start. Just about any VDQS designated area might do the trick as well. Combine the two and the odds will be stacked in your favor.


Châteaumeillant VDQS “Extra-Version,” Domaine Geoffrenet-Morval (Laure and Fabien Geoffrenet) 2006
$20. 13% alcohol. Cork. Importer: A Thomas Calder Selection, Potomac Selections, Landover, MD.

I went into this one with just enough knowledge to be dangerous. Neither I nor any of my table mates had ever tried a wine from Châteaumeillant. I was pretty sure it was a wine village located somewhere in the Upper Loire, vaguely in the vicinity of Sancerre… or maybe Saint-Pourçain. I knew that the red wines produced there are usually made primarily from Gamay. And that’s about it. One might call it blurry tasting, an idea supported by my rather simple – and slightly questioning – raw tasting notes:

Distinctly mineral, with pretty black cherry and violet/rose petal aromas. Tastes and feels more like a softer, rounder wine from Saint-Pourçain or Côtes du Forez than Beaujolais. Pure Gamay? Gentle, medium acidity. Macerated cherries.

While I do believe there are merits to blind tasting, I’m a much more avid supporter (and regular practitioner) of the importance of contextual tasting. Knowing a little up front about the wine and its frame of reference may indeed create certain preconceived notions but it also helps create a stronger base for understanding and learning. What I expected in this case was a wine that would taste like Upper Loire Gamay. While some of my expectations were met, just as many questions were raised. It sure didn’t taste like Gamay-dominated wine but, just in case it’s not clear, it did taste really good. And it did taste very much like red wine from the Upper Loire – bright, delicate, mineral and full of tangy cherry fruit.

I was right about some things going into our tasting. Situated 70 km south of Bourges, Châteaumeillant is indeed in the general vicinity of both Sancerre, which is roughly 110 km to the NNE, and Saint-Pourçain, about 88 km ESE of Châteaumeillant. (Here's the INAO map of the region.) The reds and rosés from the area – it’s not a white wine zone – generally are dominated by Gamay, with Pinot Noir and/or Pinot Gris sometimes playing supporting roles.

But there were definitely some things to be learned along the way. Technically, though it’s a rather fine distinction, Châteaumeillant is not in the Upper Loire but in the Central Vineyards, an area named for its proximity to the geographical center of France. It’s actually situated between the Upper Indre and the Upper Cher, in the SW corner of the Cher Department. And as it turns out, the “Extra” in “Extra-Version” refers to Pinot Noir – to the tune of 80%. From Domaine Geoffrent-Morval’s website:

"The vintage 'Extra-Version' is made from 10 year old vines of 80% pinot noir and 20% gamay, made into wine in wooden barrels, [then] raised in stainless steel vats. It only represents a maximum of 10% of our production since it does not follow the direction that we wish to give to our Appellation in keeping with the harmony of wines of Chateaumeillant (100% gamay with possibly extra support of pinot noir to a maximum of 40%)."

The Châteaumeillant growers union has recently petitioned the INAO for promotion of the Châteaumeillant appellation from VDQS to AOC status. Though I don’t know what the specific requirements for the AOC, if granted, will be, Geoffrenet-Morval’s notes would tend to suggest that their “Extra Version” may end up falling outside of the AOC guidelines. However, even if the wine isn’t “in keeping with the harmony of wines of Châteaumeillant” – impossible for me to say given that this was my first experience with any wine from Châteaumeillant – it certainly is in keeping with the style, feel and expression of reds from the Central Vineyards and Upper Loire. I look forward to exploring the other wines from this producer and other examples from this, perhaps, soon-to-be AOC.

Intro only...

Fleur de Passion

It’s what keeps you going, what keeps the passions flamed. Every once in a while, you still run across something that makes your pupils dilate, makes you tingle, makes you say "wow" (or at least think it). When it comes to wine, that “something” is often as simple as an inexpensive bottle from an off the beaten track area or an unknown producer that surprises you, certainly from its quality but also, it sometimes seems, helped along by its very nature as an unknown quantity. It seems far rarer for that “something” to be a special bottle, a top wine from a top producer, as one’s expectations often are set so high as to leave little chance for surprise. So when a top bottling does manage to provoke that spark of sensual excitement, it’s all the more surprising… and welcome.


Champagne “Fleur de Passion” Brut Blanc de Blancs, Diebolt-Vallois 1996
~$70 on release. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.
Shared among good friends, the level of anticipation – and concomitant dread – was further heightened in this case by the certain knowledge that we were sacrificing the sole bottle of Diebolt’s 1996 “Fleur de Passion” in any of our cellars.

Our noses were rewarded by our choice of white wine glasses, as the wine’s aromatics were simply beautiful. Pastry cream, marzipan, sweet butter, lavender and apple blossoms…. I could have spent the better part of the evening just smelling the wine and, come to think of it, I probably did. It was drinking great, too. Expectations were met in the ‘96’s extreme youthfulness yet exceeded in all other capacities.

Jacques Diebolt’s wines are not powerful; not deep dark and brooding. They’re just pure embodiments of grace, elegance and finesse… like a completely unostentatious yet classically designed and perfectly tailored wedding dress – the house style is unquestionably feminine – worn by the most beautiful of brides on her happiest of days. That’s not exactly what I was thinking when I was drinking the wine; then it was more stepping back and saying – yes, saying – "wow." But I’d like to think I’m not now waxing overly poetic. The wine was grippy and vinous yet absolutely elegant; sweet in disposition yet deeply serious. It was crystalline, shimmering and luminous from its nose to its exquisite finish.

Jacques Diebolt has only been producing “Fleur de Passion” since the 1995 vintage, making 1996 only his second release. However, he traces the wine’s inspiration back to 1953 when, working under his grandfather’s tutelage, he first made a wine of similar nature. “Fleur de Passion” is produced only in better vintages, from fruit grown in seven or eight plots centered on the hilly area known as “Les Buzons” in the 100% Grand Cru village of Cramant. Yields from the 40-60+ year-old vines are naturally low, no doubt helping to give the wine its fine concentration and expression of the Côte des Blancs’ chalk and limestone-rich terroir. The base wines for “Fleur de Passion” are fermented and aged in small barrels purchased after one-year of use by white Burgundy producers. Malolactic fermentation is suppressed, and both fining and filtering are avoided. “Fleur” ages sur-lie for approximately five years before disgorgement, followed by a modest dosage of 6-8 grams and further bottle aging at the estate prior to release. The 2002, which is the current vintage on the market, sells for approximately $150 per/bottle; at around half that price when released, the 1996 was a tremendous value.

I don’t think the '96 will ever taste quite like any of the three bottles of 1953 that Jacques opened for me and my traveling companions a few years back; he disgorged those bottles à la volée, as they were still on their lees after nearly fifty years. But I do think the 1996, if kept in a cold, dark cellar, has similar potential for life ahead of it.

I can think of few other wines I’d rather have the chance to revisit forty years from now. Of course, that would require another bottle… and that I be as alive and kicking as I expect the wine to be.

Intro only...

Jamie Goode and Monty Waldin

I'm rapidly running out of writing time on this lovely Monday morning. So, rather than rush something to the presses I thought I'd instead send you all to the fine interview Jamie Goode recently conducted with Monty Waldin, who is one of the wine world's leading authorities on biodynamics. Among other things, Jamie and Monty discuss geopolitics, Nicolas Joly and, of course, cows and the moon. Be sure to read through to the end of Jamie's piece, where you'll find links to the previous nine segments of his ongoing series on biodynamics and wine.

By the way, Monty's benchmark book, Biodynamic Wines, seems to have gone the way of all too many of the titles in the Mitchell Beazley Classic Wine Library -- through a smallish single printing then directly out of print. As a result, the few remaining copies for sale seem to have landed in the hands of rare book sellers. Nonetheless, it's well worth the investment if you're up for a splurge.

Intro only...

Saignée Bloody Saignée

File this one under "Why didn't I think of that?" I'd hoped to get to this much earlier today, but a long and busy day at the office kept me from it until now.

Cory Cartwright is celebrating the first birthday of his blog, Saignée, today. To help the festivities along, a fantastic cast of characters -- Jeremy Parzen, Brooklynguy, Alice Feiring, Peter Liem, Wolfgang Weber... you get the idea -- have signed up as contributors to a month long brouhaha on all things yeast and vine. Cory's calling it "31 Days of Natural Wine." And I suggest you all follow along at Saignée in the month to come.

Somewhere along the way, I'll be throwing my own two cents into the mix with an interview with California winemaker and natural wine explorer, Michael Dashe. We haven't nailed down the date for my post yet, so you'll just have to stay tuned in to catch it -- and plenty of other great stuff along the way.

If that's not enough to convince you to join the party, check out:

• The original announcement of "31 Days of Natural Wine"
  
• The list of anticipated contributors
  
• The "31 Days" table of contents
  
• Cory's Day 1 post about how it all started.

Will bleed for food and wine.
Cory's thumb, injured in the line of duty while working on his contribution to WBW 54: A Passion for Piedmont, hosted by yours truly.

Not everyone seems to be enthused about the whole gathering but I for one am looking very much forward to following the month's proceedings.

Happy bloggin' birthday, Cory.

Intro only...

Laurent Tribut and The Mystery of Picasso

Whether you’re a modern art buff, a student of painterly technique or a card carrying member of the Pablo Picasso fan club, if you’ve never seen “The Mystery of Picasso,” you should. In this 1956 release, filmmaker Henri-Georges Clouzot captured the visual aspects of Picasso’s full creative process on film. With Picasso drawing and painting on translucent paper behind which Clouzot set up his camera, the viewer is able to see the artist at work – adding, changing, completely obscuring then adding more – until each piece reaches what Picasso deemed to be completion. Most of the pieces you’ll see in the trailer below are quick and relatively minimalist. There are other works in the film, though, that are intricate, layered and intense. There are pieces where Picasso seemed to have finished but would then add another layer, even paint an entirely new picture over top of what already appeared a beautiful work. It’s a powerful demonstration of painting as an additive form of art.



* * *
Tracie B. – soon to be Tracie DoBi (congratulations, y’all!) – provided all the inspiration I needed for this post. She wrote up the exact same wine I’m about to (albeit from a different vintage) not long after I’d picked up a bottle at one of my occasional wine shopping stops.


Chablis Premier Cru “Côte de Léchet,” Laurent Tribut 2006
$20 (32). 13% alcohol. Cork. Vineyard Brands, Birmingham, AL.
Intense lime and mild washed-rind cheese aromas. Sapid minerality and medium acidity, at least by Chablis standards. The aromas aren’t so much pretty as they are brooding and profound. Pear skin and subtle vanilla notes add a touch of comfort. Served cold, this is pure Chablis, mineral and crisp, not at all unlike the best Muscadets of the Pays Nantais.
Warmer, it becomes clear that, in spite of the wine hailing from closer to Épernay than Dijon, this is indeed white Burgundy, fleshy and stony.

Don’t ask me to explain it any more clearly than I’m about to but I sensed a twisted spine in the structure of Laurent Tribut’s 2006 “Côte de Léchet,” as if its nerves and muscles had wound-up then released but never quite returned to their original position. Its quirks – from cheesy aroma, to a slightly sour/bitter note on the finish, to that crooked stance – may be signs of imperfection but those imperfect notes make the wine all the more interesting. In any event, the fact that there is no such thing as a “perfect wine” aside, I don’t think Tribut is a producer who’s aiming for a sense of polished perfection; rather, he’s simply striving to make wines that are true to their place and time.

* * *
In the days since first reading Tracie’s post, in which she wrote less about Tribut’s Chablis itself than she did about the wine world’s all too often myopic anti-obsessions with Chardonnay, I’ve encountered a couple of other pieces that got me thinking along rather cubist lines. First, there was Samantha Dugan’s take on why so many people say they don’t like Champagne. (I find a similar phenomenon and have a similar pet peeve when it comes to Riesling, Sam.) And more recently, there was Christopher Watkins’ discussion of Carignane (and Chardonnay) at 4488: A Ridge Blog.

All of these vines and wines have something in common. There are plenty of bad examples floating around out there, whether coarse, saccharine, obese or headache provoking. People drink a couple of bad Chardonnays (or Champagnes or Rieslings…) and then make a blanket declaration that they don’t like Chardonnay. Period. It’s human nature, and it’s one of the most frustrating roadblocks encountered in trying to open peoples’ eyes to the pleasures in all sorts of wine, not just one color or type. Chardonnay, though, offers up a trait that makes it stand apart from these other grapes and styles of wine.

When you see Picasso at work, you see him creating something from essentially nothing. Sure, he has pens, markers, paint and a brush, but he’s adding something where nothing existed before.

In contrast, when Chardonnay is grown in a decent place by a caring farmer, its very Chardonay-ness, or its Chablis-ness, is already there when the fruit is picked and crushed. The winemaker is not working with a blank slate but rather with a medium – a sculpture, if you will – that is already largely finished. The best winemakers, at least in my opinion, will simply find the right frame for their wine and then gently guide their work to completion, adding as few strokes as possible along the way. Malolactic is fine if it’s natural to the wine’s physiology. There’s nothing wrong with barriques if the scale or spine of the wine calls for them.

But far too many winemakers place the emphasis of their title on the “making,” not the wine. Too many look at their just pressed juice as a blank slate, as a canvas wide open to the additive arts. Chardonnay offers up what’s perhaps the biggest, blankest piece of canvas in the wine world, making it far too easy for good raw material to take on monstrous proportions. And nobody likes a cheater.

Intro only...