Parker Rants at Bibou's Expense

Consider a recent statement from a regarded critic:

"...the food was as great a bistro fare as one can imagine...the snail ragout, boudin noir, terrine en crout, out-of-this-world beef marrow bones as well as superb stuffed pig's feet with foie gras over a bed of black lentils had me in Rabelaisien Nirvana."

Then consider this:

"...better yet [there was] no precious sommelier trying to sell us some teeth enamel removing wine with acid levels close to toxic, made by some sheep farmer on the north side of his 4,000-foot foot elevation vineyard picked two months before ripeness, and made from a grape better fed to wild boar than the human species....we all know the type-saving the world from drinking good wine in the name of vinofreakism."

Seems kind of hard to believe they were uttered by the same person yet they were, by none other than the wine advocate himself, Robert Parker. Apparently, Parker dined a few nights ago at one of my favorite restaurants in Philadelphia, Bibou. That's him in the photo (above right), arms draped over the couple behind Bibou, Charlotte and Pierre Calmels. You can view the photo and quotes above, along with a laundry list of what Parker drank, in their original context at Philadelphia Inquirer columnist Michael Klein's blog, The Insider.

What really strikes me about the above diatribe is not so much the obvious case of diarrhea of the mouth but rather the fact that Robert Parker found it necessary to turn a simple moment — a photo op and a chance to send some much deserved praise the way of an excellent neighborhood bistro — into a self-serving opportunity to protect his own crumbling hegemony. What he's trying to protect against, lest I've left you scratching your head, is from what he obviously views as the culprit of his seemingly waning influence: the conversely increasing influence, erosive as Parker apparently views it, of independently voiced — and often freely disseminated — current trends in wine thought. Clearly, the emperor is piling on the moth balls in his own defense.

I could easily see someone thinking, "Okay, McDuff, you're just taking this as your own Parker-like opportunity to put a spin on things, to self-promote." But I have no such illusions of grandeur. If Parker was thinking of any one person, it may have been Alice Feiring, true-wine advocate extraordinaire and author of "The Battle for Wine and Love: or How I Saved the World from Parkerization." However, I think what Parker was actually having a meltdown over is, again, the ever increasing influence of an ever increasing number of voices being publicly expressed in the wine world. Bloggers, writers, sommeliers, retailers, bulletin board subscribers, distributors and importers, heck, maybe even collectors....

It's not really about what Parker called "vinofreakism." Rather, there is an undeniable backlash, though it's hardly universal, against what another wine critic, Eric Asimov, has coined "the tyranny of the tasting note." In this context, perhaps it's even more appropriate to think of as the tyranny of the wine rating system. Parker, like many of his peers at other major wine publications, has built his empire upon it and he is now clearly feeling the pinch.

* * *

On a more grassroots, more down-to-earth level, what I'm just as galled by is the possibility that Parker's diatribe might actually turn-off some true wine and food lovers to the idea of dining at Bibou. What a nasty case of guilt-by-association that would be.

Parker was right about at least a few of the things he was quoted as saying in Klein's article. The food at Bibou is indeed top-notch, an example of French country/bistro cuisine at its finest. And, as I pointed out in my original review of Bibou, everything about the BYOB, from the ease of its food to the quality of stemware and service, makes it a great place to take a broad variety of wines, be they classic or adventurous, heavy-hitters or simple pleasures.

The very same dish of foie-gras stuffed pig's trotters over a bed of lentils, mentioned by Parker, was a highlight of my last visit. Rich it was but over-the-top, as it might sound, it was not. All its elements were in harmony.

On that same August trip, the 2007 Chablis of Gilbert Picq showed much better than Nicolas Joly's Savennières "Les Clos Sacrés" 2005.

Likewise, Coudert's 2007 Fleurie "Clos de la Roilette Cuvée Tardive" was in a prettier spot than the 2006 Arbois Poulsard "Vieilles Vignes" from Tissot.

The real star of the lineup, though, was a bottle of 1997 Château Musar, eloquently expressive and a delight with the pig's foot and lentils.

So, I hope my point in this second half of my own little diatribe is even more obvious than that expressed in part one. Go to Bibou. Take good wine. Enjoy the company of good friends. Eat well. And leave the agenda where it belongs.



Bibou
1009 South 8th Street
(between Carpenter and Washington)
Philadelphia, PA 19147
215-965-8290

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TDF 2010 Stage 8: Station des Rousses to Morzine-Avoriaz

So it turned out the Tour organizers were having a little fun at my expense. I got a call early Sunday morning from the chief commissaire telling me my services as lead car driver wouldn’t be necessary. Rather, they’d decided my presence at the arrive was of the utmost importance, therefore suggesting that I head straight to the city, without delay, to prepare for the finish line festivities.

Just as I was putting the wetlands of North Jersey behind me and about to take the plunge into the darkness that precedes the reemergence into Manhattan, the second call came. This time the commissaire had deputized the job. "Monsieur McDuff, of course the race this year is not really coming to New York. We sincerely hope, though, that you'll still continue with your planned celebrations. Bon courage!"

Damn straight I wasn't turning back. There was a ride through the Jura, where Saturday's stage took place and Sunday's started, to commemorate. So, even with the lure of an appearance by the peloton off the docket, I headed to 67 Wine, where natural wine buyer Ben Wood had invited me to show off a few goodies symbolic of the weekend's stages.

For openers, we poured "L'Uva Arbosiana" from Pascal and Evelyne Clairet's Domaine de la Tournelle, brought into the US by Jenny & François. The non-vintage "L'Uva Arbosiana" (this batch is entirely from 2008 fruit) is a completely unsulfured cuvée of Ploussard that undergoes a 30-day-long carbonic maceration. A real eye-opener for the crowd in attendance, light and bright in color, crisp, firm and snappy in texture, ever fresh and just a tad smoky on the palate. Kind of like the first stiff climb after many days of riding the flat lands. Something bracing to open up the legs, lungs and mind.

A little downhill relief — cool breeze and easy rolling — came next, via a taste of the 2007 Arbois Chardonnay from Gérard Villet, part of the Savio Soares portfolio. Its telltale sponti, wild yeast aromas were followed up by fresh, crunch fruit and a cascade of minerality not unlike what you might expect to emerge from the springs flowing beneath Les Monts Jura, through which Sunday's stage traversed.

The 2004 L'Étoile Savagnin from Domaine de Montbourgeau (Rosenthal) rounded things out, a real sting in the tail, the final hors catégorie climb that no one quite knew was coming. All afternoon, it had people raising eyebrows and scratching their heads, trying to put a finger on what it reminded them of and, even more so, trying to decide just how they felt about it. Definitely polarizing juice, with its Manzanilla-like nose, piercing acidity, and stony, spicy, pungent palate attack.

Three delicious wines in honor of the first attack on the high mountains in this year's Tour.

Given that the day's events kept me from posting according to previously planned schedule, I'm going to break form and give a shout out to Sunday's winner. At this point, I'm guessing everyone that's following the race has seen it, read it or heard it. If I'm wrong, though, and you're the one that still doesn't know, then quick, close your eyes.

Andy Schleck, crossing the line victorious on the mountaintop finish into Morzine-Avoriaz, his first ever stage win in the Tour de France.
(Photo courtesty of Fotoreporter Sirotti.)

While the field sprints of the flat stages may provide adrenalin-pumping excitement and there's certainly been no shortage of drama in the first week of this year's Tour, it's always the mountains, at least for this fan of La Grande Boucle, that bring the fireworks. And we're just getting started....

Up next: A rest day recap perhaps, then it's into the high Alps of the Haute-Savoie we go.

Intro only...

TDF 2010 Stage 7: Tournus to Station des Rousses

I received the following cryptic memo, penned in blood, last night. How the author managed to attach digital photographs I'm still not sure. Through exhaustive research, I was able to attribute this text to none other than Cory Cartwright (Signor Saignée), and the seemingly mystical photographs to Guilhaume Gerard (fka, The Wine Digger). A hearty thank you to them both. Don't forget to follow Cory's 32 Days of Natural Wine (now with even more stages than Le Tour!).

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From this chart it appears the riders have a series of impossible 50% and higher grade climbs, followed by whiplash roller coaster style drops. If anyone makes it through this gauntlet alive i would put good money on them winning this whole thing.

i feel sorry for the riders during this stage. Not because there's hills or whatever, i figure they signed up for this act of masochism themselves not out of some desire to win or having to atone for the sins of a past life, but because they won't be able to sample the cuisine of the Jura.

To the south of the course you can clearly see Bourg-en-Bresse, the home of the famed poulet that has its own AOC, and to the north you have the home of comte, the giant cheesewheels that are worth the trip on their own, not to mention the other varieties of sausages and cheeses and so on and so forth. Basically if you like to eat (and i mean serious meat/potatoes/cheese eating, not flavored pop rocks or what the hell ever) this is your kind of place.


And then there is the wine.

The Jura is Terroir Country™. And not the small scale "this hill is turned .000001 degree this way so we charge 400 more dollars than that terroir and if you don't like it talk to that critic or look at this pricing sheet did we mention we're a first growth? thanks again for your business" terroir (although they have some prime sites). This is the all-encompassing terroir of food/wine/people/culture. Sure they grow some pinot noir and chardonnay, which the world knows about, but the grapes most grown are savagnin, trousseau and poulsard, rather extreme examples of "local" grapes. While the world has slowly woken to the oxidized savagnins, the ultralight poulsards, and the more serious trousseaus, and the legendary Vin Jaunes, the local market still rules, with the fortified macvin du Jura and sparkling crémant du Jura.

High on Pupillin.

It's a place where both the beautifully baroque modernism of the French natural wine movement (perhaps exemplified best by Pierre Overnoy and Emmanuel Houillon who make wines of stunning purity from methods partly adopted from Jules Chauvet through his disciple Jacques Neauport) stand side by side with staunch traditionalists such as Michel Gahier and Jacques Puffeney who are getting back to the continuity of Jura winemaking.

Jacques Puffeney

Emmanuel Houillon

When i visited we went to meet a young naturalist vigneron who perhaps exemplifies this push and pull that is making the Jura what i believe to be the most interesting wine region in the world. When we went he was brimming with ideas about wine, he had experiments going of all sorts, and more ideas of experiments he wanted to do than his small winery could possibly hold. But back in one corner was his pride and joy. It wasn't some carbonically macerated poulsard brimming with VA and barely distinguishable from a badly made gamay or grenache that represents the genre for so many these days. It was his first Château-Chalon, that staid, once great vin jaune (it was once listed with Meursault, Coulée de Serrant, Château Grillet and Château d'Yquem as one of the five great wine wine terroirs of France). Its reputation has since slipped, partly due to a change in tastes and partly due to, well, there just aren't any good producers anymore but there are a tiny number of producers trying to take it back. But here he was, in the midst of all this chaos, showing off his connection to hundreds of years of winemaking tradition and beaming over it.

Note: All that was a metaphor for bicycling.

Next up: Into the mountains and up to New York.

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TDF 2010 Stage 8 Preview: Philadelphia to New York

Breaking News: There's been talk over the last few years of eventually having the Tour de France take its Grand Départ on American shores. As fun as it sounds, prevailing thought has dictated that the Trans-Atlantic junket would put too much wear and tear on the already highly stressed physical condition of the pro peloton. Throwing such cares aside, the organizers of Le Tour have decided to make a last-minute, unannounced (until now!) detour to the Mid-Atlantic States, bringing half the peloton across the pond for a flat, fast stage from Philadelphia to New York on Sunday, July 11, while the other half of the field will toil through the first day in the high alpine regions of Jura and Savoie.

In recognition of my undying efforts (to do what, I'm not sure), the Tour organizers have invited me to drive the lead vehicle for the day.... The real surprise, though, is that once through the Lincoln Tunnel the advance caravan, lead official cars and support motos will pull off and the racers will be on their own. No set course, no marshals or gendarmes pointing the way. First man to the corner of 68th and Columbus Avenue wins.

I'll have ridden off the front by that point, so that I can get a tasting set up at the finish line before the riders arrive. You're invited, too. Here's the scoop:


In honor of the route traveled for the French version of the day's stage, I'll be pouring wines from the Jura at a shop called 67 Wine, which just happens to be located at the corner of 68th (don't ask me why it's not called 68 Wine) and Columbus Avenue. The tasting runs from 2:00 PM to 4:00 PM (not from 3:00 to 7:00) on Sunday, July 11, 2010. You'll find the full details at the 67 Wine website.

Come on out and join me for some fine Chardonnay, Ploussard and Savagnin from the Jura and Arbois. World Cup finals be damned! You can DVR the game and Le Tour, but not me and the wines.

67 Wine
179 Columbus Avenue
New York, NY 10023
(212) 724-6767

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A Return to Terroir

Ever since my last trip to Terroir, I've felt a certain illogical but unavoidable sense of guilt by association. I actually visited twice, on successive days in October 2009, and smack in between those two stops, the place was flooded. What seemed at first to be relatively minor damage turned out to be much more serious, enough in fact to shut down Terroir for long enough that myself and no doubt others began to wonder if the anointed king of San Franciscan natural wine destinations would ever re-emerge from under the wreckage. Luckily, current owners Luc Ertoran and Dagan Ministero persevered, reopening their doors earlier this winter. And happily, I managed a return last week, during a day's trip up to San Fran from our post in Monterey. The guys didn't seem to have held anything against me....

I always seem to end up with at least one photo that I really like when shooting at Terroir. Something about the place must inspire creativity.

In fact, they even had something special open for me (at least that's the way I liked to think about it). Actually, it seems there's always at least one option by the glass at Terroir that's out on the bleeding edge of the establishment's already devout focus on site-expressive wines. Last time 'round it was something orange. This time, it was the 2005 "Savagnin de Voile" from Evelyne and Pascal Clairet's Domaine de la Tournelle, an expression of Jura Savagnin aged under a veil (sous voile) of flor-like, surface dwelling yeasts. Dagan called it a "baby vin jaune." Nearly all of my companions on a mid-Thursday afternoon found it a little too bizarre for their tastes. I called it compellingly delicious, with its intense nose of fino-like oxidative characteristics, oily yellow flowers and crushed, blanched almonds followed up by a penetrating, long-lasting presence on the palate. Very cool juice that, if I understood Dagan correctly, is brought in especially for (and perhaps available only at?) Terroir by Tournelle's importers, Jenny & François.

Yes, that does read "2 x 75cl," what former Terroir partner Guilhaume (not to mention the guys at The Ten Bells in NYC) likes to call a full bottle. Check out Guilhaume's photo-profile of Derain at The Wine Digger. (No more photos, I'm afraid. The Wine Digger has since gone into hiding.)

My friend Joe, he of the Old School, met up with us just as we were finishing our first pours. Knowing that we were there as part of the celebratory preparations leading up to our friends Steve and Stacy's wedding, Joe treated us all to a magnum of "Chut... Derain," a sparkling Aligoté produced by Dominique Derain at his estate in St. Aubin. It went down way too easy. And yes, it's no coincidence that the swoosh on the bottle label resembles the natural curvature of the feminine posterior form. Luc explained the etymology and wordplay involved in the cuvée's name but I can't for the life of me remember the details. You'll have to stop by and ask him for yourselves.


As afternoon all too quickly bled into night and appetites started to flare, I was jazzed to see Spencer on the Go set up their french bistro food truck. I'd missed them on my last Sunday/Monday visits — the Chez Spencer mobile unit feeds Terroir customers and other passersby Wednesday through Saturday from their parking spot in the lot at 7th & Folsom, directly across the street from Terroir. A braised lamb cheek sandwich to go and I was back at the Terroir bar, enjoying my meal with a little taste of Derain's Mercurey rouge, poured for us by Luc as counterpoint to the bottle I'd ordered to close out our visit....


Luc warned me. "Pigeage... barriques... 2005... extracted... tannic... young." Joe just kind of sneered. But I was unstoppable. I'd enjoyed some of the white Burgundies of François Mikulski in the past but had never encountered any of the producer's reds. When I spotted Mikulski's '05 Pommard on the list at Terroir, it stuck in my head. The price was fair, it was an opportunity to explore Burgundy. I had to go for it. But I should have listened. One tough customer, very dark and closed, even a little volatile. Natalie and I, in fact, debated the finer points of the Pommard's aromatic profile, I calling it reminiscent of paint thinner, she in her painterly ways correcting my description with a comparison to the subtler scents of "odorless" mineral spirits. Guess I need to spend a little more time sniffing solvents. I took half the bottle back to Monterey with me and, honestly, it never opened or markedly improved over the course of the next two days. Makes me wonder what its future will bring.

Hey, you can't win 'em all. But you can sure enjoy the trying. I'm ready to go back....

Terroir 1116 Folsom Street San Francisco, CA 94103 (415) 558-9946

Spencer on the Go 7th & Folsom (across the street from Terroir) San Francisco, CA 94103

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Domaine de la Tournelle's Ploussard de Monteiller

Here's a wine I've been wanting to try ever since reading of its vanquishing a small but stellar field in Brooklynguy's roundup of a blind tasting of Arbois Ploussards. I finally did, just the other night. Popped the cork and poured it to go with one of my favorite Poulsard pairings: poultry pot pie (and no, it's not just about the alliteration). Truth is, I didn't love it, at least not right away.

Arbois Ploussard de Monteiller, Domaine de la Tournelle (Evelyne et Pascal Clairet) 2004
$24. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Jenny & François Selections, World Wide Wine, New York, NY.
First, a little techno-background info. Monteiller is a lieu-dit vineyard with gray marl soils and southwest exposure, farmed to yields of about 40 hl/ha. The Ploussard is hand-harvested from the Clairets' naturally farmed vines and is completely destemmed before being lightly crushed. The wine ferments on its natural yeasts in open-top vats for 10-20 days depending on vintage character. It's then put in cuves for the malolactic fermentation, followed by aging in old oak foudres for anywhere from 8-18 months, again depending on the traits of the growing season. The finished wine is bottled without filtration and with no added sulfur dioxide (a small amount of sulfites do occur naturally via the wine's fermentation process).

The resulting wine is extraordinarily pale, pale even by Poulsard standards, like an orange-tinged tea of rose petals. It's so pale you can read through it. The burnished, slightly reductive aromas when first opened blew off after about fifteen minutes, letting the wine's more delicate purity emerge. There's at best a whisper of tannin; instead, the naturally uplifting acidity of Arbois Ploussard is all that's really needed to give balance to the wine's ethereal structure. The fruit, too, is very delicate and restrained. Think of wild cherries and baked orange but more of the sense of taste you get from smelling them, not from eating them. Again, think in whispers and you'll get a sense of the wine.

Twenty-four hours later, not surprisingly, the wine showed even subtler intensity. I noticed a lean wood influence, or at least a woodsy flavor, that I hadn't registered a day earlier. There was even a sneaky little suggestion of sweetness near the rear palate, just beofre the wine finished with a cascade of sour minerals. There was something vaguely metallic, too, though I don't believe it was Brett. What I do believe is that this is really puzzling, really provocative wine. It's not the type of wine that scores hedonism points or that screams out for attention, more the type that you overlook at first sip but are then drawn back to, full of mystery, raiser of questions. In the end, I still didn't love it. But I am looking forward to the next bottle.

Elsewhere in the blogosphere:

You'll find a beautiful set of pictures from a day spent at Domaine de la Tournelle at the increasingly photo-centric site of The Wine Digger.

The Wine Digger has gone into hiding and eviscerated his blog since this was originally posted; his photos are no longer publicly available.

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The Pleasures of Jacques Puffeney's Poulsard and Pot Pie

The poultry, egg, lamb and pork purveyor at my local farmers market sells turkey pot pies. In the world of farmers markets, such an item is referred to as a “value added product” – something that’s not a direct product of the land or farm but is produced (or processed) from the farm’s goods. The pot pie has become a near weekly habit for me since its introduction at the market last year; in a way that’s odd, as there’s really nothing outstanding or out of the ordinary about the pies. They’re about as simple as simple gets: a reasonably good pastry crust filled with chunks of white and dark meat turkey, potatoes, onions, peas, carrots and a somewhat bland, creamy sauce. It’s that simplicity that makes them work so well for me. Not only are they satisfying; they’re also a perfect foil to any number of styles and varieties of wine. Satisfying and wine friendly? That’s my kind of value added product. Last week’s pie paired quite nicely with….

Arbois Poulsard “M,” Jacques Puffeney 2005
$30. 13.5% alcohol. Cork. Rosenthal Wine Merchant, New York, NY.
Puffeney’s wines may be a little pricey for a typical midweek repast, but I’ve been on vacation the last couple of days so I figured why not give myself a treat. Straight from the bottle, this is lean and firm in both acidic and tannic impact. Its color is a completely transparent, pale ruby, tinged green/orange at the rim. With a few moments to settle, aromas emerged of red tea, rose petals, teak and tart cherry fruit. Like its color, the wine’s flavors are delicate but intensely penetrating. If you’ve been looking for a “light” wine to serve with hearty fare – think duck, beef daube or, why not, pot pies – this may be your ticket.

At its initial serving temperature, I found the aromas and texture a tad off kilter so I put the bottle out on the porch for a while (on what was probably one of the last cool nights of the season). Sure enough, at a slightly cooler temp – and no doubt helped along by a little more air – the wine felt gentler and found its focus. Scents of potpourri and spice were even clearer. And the wine’s natural acidity magnified and built upon the flavors of the meal. If you’re looking to try a bottle and happen to be in a hurry, decant it. After an hour, it was even more openly tasty, closer to what I remember from my last tasting when the wine had clearly benefited from some time in the glass.

It bears repeating from that occasion, by the way, that, “’M’ is one of two cuvées of Poulsard produced by Puffeney from all of 1.2 acres planted to the vine on his property. It’s named for Jacques’ daughter Marie, who favors a fruity-style expression of Poulsard.” It also bears adding that Puffeney’s Poulsard undergoes 15-20 day fermentation in tank, followed by malo in old oak foudres. The wine is then barrel aged for 24-30 months, depending on the vintage, before being bottled with neither fining nor filtration.

I wasn’t quite as enamored with “M” on day two, as it faded more quickly than I would have expected. The aromas were still quite enchanting – red apples and apple skin, more teak and a whiff of sunny beach and ocean air (perplexing given the wine’s mountain origins). However, the wine had lost some of its nerve and complexity; its tension had completely relaxed, almost gone slack. Lovely red fruit kept it from being a complete let down, though. Not a bad treat, all things considered, and definitely a fine companion to two days of pot pie.

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Two from Tissot

Ever find yourself thinking eerily alike another? I stopped by a friend’s house not long ago to do a little tasting and cooking. For good measure I’d carried along a bottle of Domaine Tissot’s Arbois “Sélection,” one of a handful of interesting wines I’d picked up a few days earlier. As it turned out, he’d already lined up a bottle of Tissot’s Arbois Chardonnay. No advance discussion or planning, just a freak coincidence – a welcome one.

At work in the vineyards at Domaine André et Mireille Tissot
(photo courtesy of stephane-tissot.com).
When Stéphane Tissot began taking on more and more responsibility for the farming and winemaking at his parents André and Mireille Tissot’s estate in the mid-1990s, he immediately began a slow but sure conversion of the property to organic farming methods. That cycle moved to the next logical step with the first application of biodynamic principles in 2004, becoming “official” via full biodynamic certification by Demeter in 2005. Farming at the 32-hectare estate is natural and so too is the winemaking. All of the Tissots’ wines – as many as 28 different cuvées in any given vintage – are fermented spontaneously on their native yeasts, with sulfur used minimally if at all.

Arbois “Sélection,” Domaine André et Mireille Tissot (Stéphane et Bénédicte Tissot) 2004
$23. 13% alcohol. Cork. Importer: A Thomas Calder Selection, Potomac Selections, Landover, MD.
Tissot’s Arbois “Sélection” Blanc is a blend of 70% Chardonnay and 30% Savagnin made in an intentionally oxidative style. The two varieties are barrel fermented and aged separately for nine months, with occasional topping up of the barrels. After blending, the wine undergoes a further fifteen months of aging in barrel, this time sans ouillage (without topping up). In this environment, a partial veil of flor forms, much as with Vin Jaune though to a lesser extent, and the wine is eventually finished with a very light filtration prior to bottling, with no further sulfur treatment.

The end result is delicious. The first pour opened with a typically apple-y, oxidative nose and Sherry-like brininess and savor on the palate. As it unfolded in the glass, its flavors developed greater complexity and depth. Persimmon and kumquats, dried apricots minus their sweet-fruited aspect, sour limestone and marshmallows (yes, marshmallows). The whole package is carried along on a razor’s edge of acidity. It was mouth coating in its intensity yet not at all heavy, the flavors and texture clinging to my teeth like a free-climber might cling to a sheer rock face, with sinew, grip and desperate balance. This is certainly not for everyone but it’s one of the most exciting wines I’ve had this year. And at $23, it’s a tremendous value.

Arbois Chardonnay, Domaine André et Mireille Tissot (Stéphane et Bénédicte Tissot) 2007
$24. 13% alcohol. Cork. Importer: A Thomas Calder Selection, Potomac Selections, Landover, MD.
Quite backward – our order, that is, not the wine. In our enthusiasm to taste the “Sélection” we didn’t bother thinking about which wine to open first. It would certainly have made sense to start here but, hey, sometimes it’s more fun just to forge ahead.

This is made in a far less oxidative fashion, with spontaneous fermentation in barriques (10% new) followed by twelve months of barrel aging. Lighter and more youthful in color, as expected, it was loaded with flavors of d’Anjou pear and aromas of fresh honey and Braeburn apples, all on a taut, medium-bodied frame. Like “Sélection,” it displayed tremendous grip and energizing acidity, calling to mind Burgundian cousins such as commune level or premier cru Chablis (but with more flesh) and Viré-Clessé (but with a more intense acid and mineral profile). This could do interesting things in the cellar but it’s already drinking great. I’d love to try it with a plate of grilled scallops, completely unadorned. Definitely.

Domaine Tissot’s website, by the way, is very much worth exploring. Lots of good information about the estate as well as biodynamic farming principles, all set to a soundtrack of fermenting Savagnin.

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Three Odd Whites

Neuchâtel, Caves du Château d’Auvernier 2005
Caves du Château D’Auvernier seems to dominate the export market for Swiss wines, simply by observation of what few other wines from Switzerland appear with any regularity on the shelves in shops throughout the Mid-Atlantic States. Oddly enough, though I’ve eyed this bottling many, many times over the years, I’d never actually tried it until recently. Perhaps it’s natural that I’d always given the wine a pass based on its relatively high price point, an issue it seems with just about all Swiss wine that finds its way to the US market. As it turns out, I hadn’t been missing much. This is a typically neutral expression of Chasselas, or Chasselas Fendant Roux as the locals call it in the Valais. A slightly lactic, yogurty nose leads to a somewhat dilute, nutty, mineral and lime tinged flavor profile. Though theoretically viable as an aperitif and a decent choice for sharp cheese, fresh water fish or fondue, its practical application is severely hampered by poor QPR. At a little over $20 per bottle, there’s just way too much better, cheaper wine out there to make this anything more than a passing curiosity or a comfort wine for homesick Swiss expatriates. $21. 11.5% alcohol. Natural cork. Imported by Dreyfus Ashby, New York, NY.

Arbois Chardonnay “En Chante-Merle,” Régine and Jean Rijckaert 2005
If we’d tasted blind, I’d never have guessed varietal Chardonnay. Cool climate, yes. Perhaps Cour-Cheverny or maybe even regular Cheverny Blanc, but definitely not varietal Chardonnay. The first note hit on the palate was of slight oxidation. Then came hay along with racy lemon, lime and papaya fruit. Nervy acidity blew away the oxidative tone of the wine, keeping it fresh in spite of the up-front suggestion of evolution. Add to all that a limestone streaked nose and solid persistence and you’ve got a pretty cool little wine that’s loaded with character. I’d happily enjoy it with the same range of foods suggested above for the Neuchâtel, though it’s definitely more demanding of being served with food. $16. 13% alcohol. Synthetic cork. Imported by Dionysus Imports, Lorton, VA.

Montlouis Sec “Les Petits Boulay,” Domaine Deletang 1999
Finding an older vintage on the shelves of a shop that’s not particularly renowned for buying library releases straight from producers’ caves can always be a risky gamble. When an older vintage is selling for closeout prices, the odds get stacked even more heavily against the buyer. Chances are that the wine has been lost and forgotten in the nether reaches of a distributor’s warehouse or, worse yet, returned to a distributor after collecting dust and more serious forms of abuse at a corner liquor store somewhere in Podunkville. But at $6 for a 1999 Montlouis, the risks are more than worth the potential rewards. The odds landed in our favor on this occasion, delivering not a profound example of Montlouis at its best but a wine that was fairly compelling and a sound example of mid-life, mid-range Chenin Blanc. The oxidative theme continued into this last wine of our tasting. Dry Loire Chenins often show oxidation at mid-life, even at early stages, yet can continue to live on and develop into things of beauty for many, many years. Boiled wool, almond butter, asparagus water and beeswax all turned up on the nose, with good purity of structure following on the tongue. Not a terribly giving wine, but intriguing for its stony, crackly finish. It could easily have passed for a Savennières from the same era if not for its richer touch of dried honey more typical to Chenin from the Touraine. $6. 11.5% alcohol. Natural cork. Imported by Vignobles LVDH, Woodstock, MD.

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