I Clivi

At the top of a hill in Corno di Rosazzo, just steps across the border from the Collio into the Colli Orientali del Friuli zone, lies the estate known as I Clivi ("the slopes," in ancient Italian).  I Clivi occupies one of the more privileged sites in the COF zone, with vines rooted in a soil base rich in calcareous marl, known locally as ponca (or flysch), an ideal environment for traditional Friulano varieties and a terroir that lends an intensely mineral signature and compact, focused acid structure to the wines grown on the property.

Arriving at sunset on Tuesday, we were greeted on the front terrace of the winery by Mario Zanusso, the current winegrower at I Clivi.  Mario is a handsome guy, at once quiet, intense and somewhat reserved -- not at all unlike the wines we would taste with him a short while later.  Walking and talking with him, I got the sense that he'd be just as much at home taking in a Ramones gig at CBGB (if only we had a time machine) as he seemed in the hills of Rosazzo.

The vineyards at I Clivi, as are much of the high quality sites throughout Colli Orientali del Friuli, are laid out on terraces cut into the hillsides.  The slopes here, though not exactly gentle, are not insanely steep, at least not when compared to more precipitous viticultural areas such as the Mosel or Northern Rhône. While I'm sure that, for some producers, ease of mechanization plays into the maintenance of the terraces, Mario explained that their genesis sprang from a more primal need, as the friable nature of the ponca-rich soils make the landscape highly prone to erosion.  The terraces, at a very practical level, help to keep the vineyards in place in a landscape where heavy rainfall might otherwise, over time, lay bare the roots of the vines.

I was so intent on capturing the beautiful view of the sunset (something for which my camera is not particularly well suited) that I totally neglected to snap a few shots of the old vines on the steeper, terraced vineyards at I Clivi.

The Zanusso family owns a total of twelve hectares of vineyards, eight of them directly surrounding the winery and falling in the Colli Orientali del Friuli zone, and another four situated in the Collio, just over the next line of hills, immediately adjacent to the border between the COF and Collio DOC areas.  Farming at the estate is certified organic and nearly all of the wines are estate bottled, though Mario's keenness for Ribolla Gialla has led him to purchase some fruit from growers in nearby Goriška Brda (Slovenia) while waiting for his own young vines of Ribolla to come of age.

In both the vineyards and the cellar, I think that the approach at I Clivi can best be described as rational.  Respect for nature is maintained, farming is certified organic, but no particular doctrine or credo is followed.  In Mario's own words, "The first thing is that the wine is good.  We don't need to obey some [set of] rules."  Some of his wines are fermented on their native yeasts, others not, depending on the needs and characteristics of the vintage and each cuvée.  Mario uses a light hand with sulfur, adding a bit at crush when the fruit is most susceptible to oxidation, most of which is consumed during fermentation, then adding just a dash at bottling for the sake of stability.

With one technical exception (which I'll explain shortly), all of the white wines at I Clivi are fermented and aged solely in steel and without skin contact.  Though the family does farm some modern varieties (Merlot, Chardonnay, Sauvignon), Mario holds a strong preference for local varieties.  They are also blessed with having a high proportion of old vines on their property, as Mario feels that the old vines draw greater minerality into their wines.  The white wines all undergo extended lees aging, including a practice the Zanussos adopted from Burgundy – and here's that exception to the steel-only rule at the estate – in which the lees, immediately after fermentation, are removed from the wine and "aged" in barriques for one month before being reintroduced to the wine.

Leaving the cellar for the cozier confines of the family's tasting room, we were joined by Mario's father, Ferdinando Zanusso, who slowly but surely took the reins as we sat down to taste and discuss the wines.  One could quickly fathom from where Mario inherited not just his looks but also his intensity, as Ferdinando is the kind of man who imparts as much information and intention with a quick look, gesture or phrase as many people take minutes and paragraphs to convey.  In earlier phases of his life, he spent time in Africa with the United Nations and also worked in the maritime transport field before settling at I Clivi, where he and Mario have been producing wines since the 1996 vintage.

Collectively, the wines at I Clivi are among the most focused, mineral-intense, and, one could argue, tightly wound of any I've encountered during our week long exploration of Colli Orientali del Friuli, Those descriptors carry even greater weight than usual given that we tasted all of the wines at room temperature, where faults or imbalances, if any, are laid bare much more clearly than when chilled.

We tasted from the family's very last bottle of 2009 Ribolla Gialla, all 11.3% alcohol of it, produced from the fruit of 15 year-old vines grown in Brda; a very clean, light and vibrant style, round in feel and lifted by its bright acidity and minerality.

The first of two examples of Friulano came next, the 2009 Colli Orientali del Friuli Friulano "Vecchia Vigna al Clivi," which comes from 60 year-old vines immediately adjacent to the house and spent a year on its lees before being bottled in October 2010. Intensely salty, with a gorgeous balance between fleshiness and racy acidity.  A 2009 Friulano "San Lorenzo," from the Collio DOC, was richer, less mineral, more savory in its flavors, with an attractive vegetal undertone and a classic signature of bitter almond flavor on the finish.

One of my favorite wines of the evening (and in near final retrospect, of the entire trip) was the 2006 Colli Orientali del Friuli "Clivi Galea," a blend dominated by Tocai (about 90%) with small proportions of both Verduzzo and Chardonnay.  It spent two years on the lees in tank.  Galea is a single vineyard on the home/COF side of the property with dry, marl-rich soil -- a mix of chalk clay and limestone.  Relative to the younger wines we'd already tasted, it boasted a higher alcohol level of 14%, a level now much more typical of the region, in this case a direct side effect of the hotter than average 2006 growing season.  The wine was nonetheless perfectly balanced; redolent of fennel and loaded with stony flavors and textures, it was downright fantastic.

A bottle of 2007 Collio Goriziano "Clivi Brazan" was richer, darker and more evolved than the '06 "Galea," a facet influenced more by the rainy 2007 growing season than by the wine's different place of origin, over the hill and into the Collio zone.  Still, the wine was far from without its own charms; much more tropical and zesty on the nose, with aromas of lychee and hothouse flowers, along with a subtle peppermint scent.

Neither Mario nor Ferdinando are particularly fond of sweet wines, so they opt to produce a Verduzzo -- one of the two autochthonous vines of the region, along with Picolit, typically used for sweet, appassimento wines -- in a dry style.  In the words of my traveling companion Wayne, Verduzzo is "a red wine grape with white skin." While that character is generally masked in sweet expressions of Verduzzo, it came through clearly here, with a tannic, grippy, somewhat aggressive texture that called out for food -- roast pork or veal come to mind.

Arguably the most forward wine in the day's lineup was the 2009 Colli Orientali del Friuli "Bianco Degli Arzillari," a blend of Chardonnay, Sauvignon and Traminer.  Not at all aromatically overbearing, as the presence of Sauvignon and Traminer in the blend might suggest, it was fleshy and quite pleasant. If forced to pick one wine that didn't particularly call out to me, it would be I Clivi's 2008 Collio Malvasia.  A varietal expression of Malvasia Istriana, it was fat on the palate, from front to rear, creating an initial impression of sweetness yet finishing dry and mineral, with lingering flavors.  Again, it wasn't my fave but is was still a very good expression of Malvasia.

As the evening progressed and our tasting wound down, Ferdinando offered us one last taste, of the only red produced at the estate, the Colli Orientali del Friuli Merlot "Clivi Galea," in this case from the 2003 vintage.  Regardless of country and region, the Merlot vine loves clay and there's clay aplenty in the ponca soils of the Galea vineyard.  Classically red-fruited and elegant at first taste, it took on a smoky character on the finish, where it showed quite a firm spine.  Food came to mind once again, this time roast beef with pesto....

Bidding Signore Zanusso arrivederci under starry skies, I was ready for dinner, dreaming of sleep and, most of all, still savoring the intense, lingering impressions left by the wines and the particular passions of a father and son growing wines in the Friulano hills.

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A New Year, A Full Moon and Movia "Lunar"

There's much in common between the symbolism of the full moon and the New Year. Both have been known to inspire wild and unpredictable behavior. Both drive transformation. And both are turning points. On the philosophical and spiritual levels, the New Year marks the end and spurs remembrance of one year while at the same time signifying the beginnings of and inspiring hopes for the next. On a more scientific level, the full moon marks the apex between the waxing and waning paths of the lunar cycle.

CURRENT MOON

about the moon

The full moon holds special significance on the Biodynamic calendar, as it does to those who farm and make wine with a belief that the soil is the meeting place between the earth and the cosmos, that that same soil is a living, breathing entity. According to the principles of biodynamic agriculture, the full moon marks a major turning point in the lunar influence on farming practices and plant growth. As the moon waxes, the gravitational pull of the moon increases and the flow of energy moves upwards, from the soil toward the sky, from the roots toward the leaves. As the moon wanes its gravitational influence lessens, the soil focuses its forces inwards and plant energies move down toward their roots.

Biodynamic winemaking principles, too, look at the influence of moon and star cycles to guide the timing of certain activities in the vineyard and in the cellar. Movia winemaker Aleš Kristančič, for one, considers the full moon to be the ideal time to bottle his aptly named Ribolla Gialla, "Lunar." It's the time during the synodic month when the wine's mineral content and energy — what Aleš calls "floating islands" as you'll see/hear in the video below — are active and upwardly mobile while the lees and grape solids in the same wine are moving downward toward a restful state.

Given that the full moon occurred on New Year's Eve just past, I couldn't imagine a more appropriate wine to enjoy with our last meal of one year and our first taste of the next.

Goriška Brda Ribolla Gialla "Lunar," Movia (Aleš Kristančič) 2005
$45. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Domaine Select, New York, NY.

As Aleš recommends, I decanted "Lunar" in order to leave behind most of the considerable sediment that makes its way into the bottle. A cloudy, coppery orange, it's a near match for the hue of peach nectar, just not quite so rich and dense to the eye. Likewise, the wine is loaded with peach and apple skin aromas and cidery nuances, which lead to a long, mineral stained finish. With air, more tertiary aromas of sandalwood, saffron and floral tea emerge, along with an intense leesiness that reminds me of the sweetness of fresh-baked whole wheat bread. Though not as tannic as some other extended skin contact wines, Paolo Bea's "Rusticum" for instance, the wine still has a definite textural component that gently grips and undulates across the palate.

Said my wife, "Why is it orange? And cloudy? I think there might be something wrong with it... it tastes kind of oxidized." For a moment, her words had me contemplating whether she might be a more honest taster than I. Certainly, "Lunar" and other "orange" or extended skin contact white wines like it are more than tough to understand without some context. And certainly, I did carry some context and correlated expectations to the table.

Why is the wine orange? Well, as Eric Asimov described it a couple of years back, "Movia’s 2005 Lunar is an experimental ribolla gialla wine, in which Ales Kristancic, an owner and the winemaker, tried to produce a wine basically without the touch of humans except at harvest. He put the grapes in specially designed barrels and then allowed them to ferment and age on their own for seven months, without pressing the grapes or adding any chemicals." Seven months of skin contact give ample time for the wine to absorb all of the pigmentation from the Ribolla Gialla skins — a distinct orange, even though "gialla" means "yellow."

Why is it cloudy? After those seven months on the skins and another extended period on the lees in small casks of Slavonian oak, "Lunar" is bottled without any fining or filtration. Only the energy of the full moon, in Aleš' view, keeps it from being even cloudier... that and perhaps more careful decanting than I exercised.


In the video above, Aleš explains his thoughts behind producing and bottling "Lunar" according to the cycles of the moon.
Why is it oxidized? Well, actually it's not, though it does have a definite oxidative character. You'll want to see Jeremy Parzen's excellent post about "Lunar" for a full explanation of the wine's production methods. In short, "Lunar" is whole-cluster fermented in special casks designed by Kristančič to mimic the shape of a grape, complete with a valve modeled after the stem of the grape that is meant to allow the carbon dioxide created during fermentation out of the cask without letting oxygen enter. After all that time on the skins plus added time on the lees, the oxygen native to the juice itself along with the oxygen that slowly permeates the casks, has an inescapable influence on the wine. But that influence is not detrimental or a flaw. Rather, you can taste how oxygen has sculpted the wine without blurring its edges or eroding its freshness.

Perhaps it's not surprising in that context that "Lunar" reminded me a bit of some of the Arbois whites from Puffeney and Overnoy/Houillon in the way it balanced oxidative character with brilliant, buoyant freshness.

"Lunar" is not inexpensive but, at half the price of similar wines from the likes of Radikon and Gravner, it constitutes a good value and makes for a quite accessible introduction to this genre of Slovenian/Friulano winemaking.

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Quick Sips

Recently, I had a chance to revisit Jacky Truchot’s 2005 Bourgogne Rouge. Really, it was everything you could ask for in a glass of young Burgundy. Purity of aroma, finely detailed texture and totally focused flavors. I blinked and missed the opportunity to buy any of Domaine Truchot-Martin’s ‘05s. A shame, as I love the wines and it was Jacky’s last vintage before retiring, with no heirs to continue his work. The man’s wines will be missed. Luckily, I have a good friend who caught the train and who’s generous enough to share. With each sip, it seems a little like drinking history. But then, I suppose you could say that about all real wine.

On a lighter note, Movia’s 2005 Tocai Friulano, which I wrote up on Friday, held up beautifully into its second day. Taking on a rounder, slightly softer feel, it also picked up a seductively sweet herbaceousness that was hidden on day one. Exactly what I imagine cannabis honey would taste like. Does anyone produce such a thing?

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Market Meal Meets Movia

Late night dinner yesterday, after a long day at work. It would have been too easy to fall into the bowl of cereal trap but I refused. Instead, I fired up the grill and threw together a quick salad while I waited for it to heat up. Lettuce from North Star Orchard, cucumber and tomato from Blooming Glen Farm, all dressed with nothing more than good olive oil and a pinch of salt and pepper. Grill ready, I threw on an herb marinated poussin that I’d picked up from Griggstown Quail Farm, another stalwart at the Headhouse market. I usually shy away from pre-seasoned meats but I gave this a shot last year and let’s just say it’s damn good. There’s definitely something to be said for the ease of putting together a quick meal during market season. Good raw ingredients need so little work. Now, for something to open while the wee bird cooked.


Brda Točaj (Tokai Friulano) "Gredič," Movia 2005
Ah, yes. This was a revelation. A bit choked at first but once it caught its breath it exhaled aromas of pure white peach, lemon peel and honeydew melon, topped off with a sweetly scented sprinkling of crystalline mineral character. Perfectly integrated oak, very subtle in its presence. Firm flesh and an explosion of the same fruit flavors that had wafted up to my nose balanced its crackling spine of acidity. With dinner, it was even better, coming alive with the sweet herbs and juicy flesh of the grilled poussin. A seriously great value. And as to the ridiculous alliteration in this post’s title, it just spells Mmmm, as in seriously tasty. $23. 12% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Domaine Select, New York, NY.

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Wines at the Summer Table

Like the concept of a chef’s tasting menu itself, the “with wine pairings” option has its detractors. Those who aren’t fans feel that you’re likely to end up with leftovers in both scenarios. There’s a certain way to avoid the potential pitfalls of at least the first of these two scenarios. Restaurants that offer nothing but a tasting menu are sure to put their best effort and ingredients into your plates. Wine pairings, though, can still be hit or miss. You’re at the mercy of the sommelier (or lack thereof). Pairings can be thoughtful, even inspired or, on the flipside, downright dismal.

Is there a workaround for the wine trap? Sure, though depending on where you are it may narrow your options: choose a spot with a BYO policy. The wine list is yours to make. If the pairings flop, there’s only you, and maybe a little bad luck, to blame. A full-on BYO policy, meaning one with no corkage fee, is a major bonus. Take as few or as many bottles as you’d like. I tend to err on the side of plenty. If you’re going to eat eight dishes over the course of an entire evening, why not try a wine with each? When a few friends and I headed out for dinner at Talula’s Table last week, we did just that.

Mosel Riesling QbA trocken, Freiherr von Heddesdorff 2006
This was the first bottle to hit the table, instantly becoming our de facto aperitif. Von Heddesdorff’s basic QbA’s may not win awards for complexity but they make for an inexpensive and fairly solid introduction to the world of trocken and halbtrocken German Riesling. Though still lean, this was a good deal less austere than when last tasted and carried a refreshing little trace of CO2. Clean, minerally and simple – in a good way. $14.50. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.

“La Cravantine,” Domaine Fabrice Gasnier NV
This we paired with our first course, snapper crudo, as the idea of bubbly with just a whisper of rose to its color seemed tailor made for the pink hues and cool textures of the dish. If you missed the AOC designation in the wine name, that’s because there isn’t one. Fabrice Gasnier’s estate is located in Chinon, an AOC district that allows for red, white and rosé but not bubbly. Fabrice makes “La Cravantine” anyway. It’s a Blanc de Noir bubbly, made entirely from Cabernet Franc. And though it’s not vintage dated, it is a single-year wine, this lot being from 2007. A tad softer in acidity and, arguably, a bit simpler than the last couple of versions, its raspberry and floral nuances still make it pretty darn tasty. And it worked, though it’s one of those wines that will work with just about anything. $22. 12% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.

Muscadet de Sèvre et Maine Sur Lie “Clos des Allées” Vieilles Vignes, Domaine de la Grange (Pierre Luneau-Papin) 2005
Pure mineral springs. There’s a limestone and saline quality at play, but really, really subtle. Crisp up front and surprisingly creamy on the finish. A very pretty wine, one that asks you to tune in rather than shouting for attention. This was one of my favorite pairings of the night, matched to a buttery lobster and summer squash tart. A bigger, richer white would have blown the delicacy of the lobster out of the water. $14. 12% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Louis/Dressner, New York, NY.

Viré-Clessé “Vieilles Vignes,” Domaine André Bonhomme 2004
This is in a really good place right now. Smelling it, at least initially, reminds me of fresh, dry dirt, kicked up in the infield of a baseball diamond. Bonhomme’s ‘04s were initially a little plump but this has clearly shed some fat and taken on a greater depth of minerality since last tasted. Hallmark to his wines, there’s a creamy core of yellow peach fruit and a taut finishing grip. This wine and the next were sampled back and forth with two dishes: a mushroom, goat cheese and corn “papusa” and a tartine of smoked sable. No match was spot-on but both wines provided points of interest with each dish. $30. 13.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.

Brda Chardonnay, Movia 2000
I was surprised when my good blog-fellow Jeremy Parzen recently mentioned that he’d never noticed the oak influence in Movia’s wines. I say that because I’ve yet to taste a wine from Movia where an oak influence wasn’t present and detectable. What I like about Movia’s wines, though, is that they’re not o-a-k-y. Instead, the oak is integrated, eaten up by and at one with the wine. As Dr. J points out in his excellent post, that’s a good thing, exactly the intention of Movia winemaker Aleš Kristančič. I’m not sure this was a perfect bottle (it was picked up at risk, a back vintage at closeout pricing at a local PLCB shop). Run-up on the cork suggested the likelihood of some heat damage, as did a slight disjoint in the wine’s alcohol profile. Nonetheless, it came alive with the food, applying a fine balance between muscle, acidity and mellow fruit, in spite of its tarnished condition. There’s a more in-depth tasting of Aleš’ wines lurking somewhere in my future. $16. 13.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Domaine Select Wine Estates, New York, NY.

Burgenland Zweigelt, Paul Achs 2006
I first had Paul Achs’ Zweigelt at a restaurant in Vienna a couple of years back. My memories of it were fond and this bottle didn’t disappoint. Achs makes real Zweigelt. Not oaked up or adorned with an international gloss, it’s chunky, spicy and exuberant. Think of loganberry and blueberry fruit and a dash of cinnamon along with a meaty rusticity, good acidity and just enough tannin to make your mouth water. This bottle was a bit short on the finish but that’s my only complaint. A solid match, it echoed and complemented the gaminess of the barbecued squab with which it was served. $26. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Vin DiVino, Chicago, IL.

Crozes-Hermitage, Domaine Combier 2000
In spite of the Italianate nature of the final savory course of the evening, the thought of beef tortellini with fresh tomato sauce and fried eggplant somehow cried out to me for Syrah. I’ve written up Laurent Combier’s wines before, here and here, but it was only in the 2000 vintage that I laid them down in any quantity. This bottle not only reminded me of why but made me wish there was more left. Heady scents of olives, macerated red berries, cedar and spice. Impeccable balance. The kind of wine that tends to raise eyebrows and result in scratched heads because it’s so different from what many people anticipate. As my instincts told me to expect, it was great with the food. (PS: I preferred Combier’s old label design.) $20 on release. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.

Sancerre, Domaine du Carrou (Dominique Roger) 2007
At this point, I suppose we could probably have gone back to the other open bottles for some small tastes to accompany the cheese course. But there it was, a bottle of Sancerre, just asking to be opened. Sauvignon Blanc does offer versatility with cheese, after all. Dominique Roger produces, year in and year out, a pretty straightforward example of Sancerre from Bué, crisp, limestone-driven, relatively elegant and without any of the catty or clumsy characteristics that SB often packs as unwanted baggage. His ’07 is light, fruity and typical. A touch meek for many of the evening’s cheese selections but refreshing nonetheless. $25. 13% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.

Moscato d’Asti, G. D. Vajra 2005
The combination of fizziness and loads of residual sugar makes it easy for Moscato based stickies to mask flaws. When they’re done right, though, as Aldo Vajra’s always are, they can be downright delicious. It makes sense, as Aldo farms biodynamically and harvests pristine fruit. And his winemaking staff watches the Moscato non-stop during its short fermentation cycle to ensure that everything is just right. Common wisdom suggests that Moscato d’Asti should be drunk as young as possible. While I don’t disagree, this bottle was still quite good, even after getting lost in my cellar for the last two years. The intense floral and grapey characteristics inherent in its youth had morphed into a rounder, subtler creature. Yet it was still undeniably good. When in doubt, if actually pairing with sweet thereafters, there’s no more versatile “dessert wine.” $16 on release. 5.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.

“Nocino,” Fattoria Cescana
One of my dining companions, Natale Caccamo, makes a homebrew of sorts, a digestivo he calls “Nocino.” Based on organic green walnuts, along with a proprietary list of herbs and aromatics (a little bird told me that espresso, clove, orange peel and cinnamon may play a role), it put just the right finishing touch on a great meal and a slew of good wines, enjoyed among friends. 70 proof.

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Easter at Osteria Redux

Every tradition has to start somewhere. For my wife and I, this one started a year ago (in retrospect), with our first meal at Osteria, which just happened to be on Easter Sunday. So when Easter rolled around this year and we had none of the usual family plans, my wife suggested a repeat. And there you have it, a tradition in the making.


In the course of the last year, we made it back to Osteria on several occasions (including lunch just a couple of days prior to Easter), enough for me substantiate and build upon my original impressions. I felt strongly enough about the overall experience at Osteria to call it the best new restaurant in Philadelphia in my 2007 year-end roundup. I still feel that way. Apparently I’m not alone, as Philadelphia Magazine rated Osteria as number one in their first ever Philly Mag 50, while Craig LaBan of the Philadelphia Inquirer awarded it a solid three bells.

Our most recent visit clarified many of the strengths of Osteria, showing growth in some areas yet pointing out further room for improvement in others. Antipasti and primi, along with fantastic pizzas, are consistently the stars of the lineup.

Pancetta wrapped snail “spiedini” grilled with celery root purée and truffle parsley butter
My antipasto for the evening showcased the chef’s willingness to reflect pan-European influences. French-inspired snails, with a parsley butter and celeriac dipping sauce, were wrapped up in Italian cured pork. Skewering those little morsels of goodness and grilling them over a wood fire threw in a little tapas influence for good measure. The escargots were complemented rather than dominated by the salty goodness of the pancetta and the richness of the sauce. This would be a great dish to replicate for caterers in search of something more interesting to replace the ubiquitous bacon wrapped scallops.

Chicken liver rigatoni with cipolline onions and sage
The ragu of chicken livers and cipollini adorning my choice of primo epitomizes Osteria’s approach. Take a country-style dish – herbs from the garden, a quick homemade batch of pasta and an inexpensive cut/portion of meat – and elevate it to the sublime through spot-on execution. Large pipes of rigatoni were an inspired choice of pasta, allowing for tastes from the top of the bowl that just hinted at the creaminess of the sauce yet permitting one to dig deep for a hearty scoop of the liver and onion-rich sauce.

Rabbit “casalinga” with pancetta, sage, brown butter and soft polenta
Secondi seem to be the Achilles’ heel in Osteria’s trifecta, consistently falling short of their potential and stepping down rather than up a notch relative to the quality of the preceding courses. Case in point, although at the extreme end of the spectrum compared to previous experiences, was this house specialty (casalinga). Three small morsels of on-the-bone rabbit, braised in red wine and then roasted over the kitchen’s wood fire, were served on a bed of soft polenta spiked with little nuggets of pancetta. In the darker meat portions, the rabbit was juicy and flavorful; however, the leaner sections were dry and chewy. Intensely caramelized brown butter and reduced wine, combined with heavily smoked polenta and pancetta, imbued the dish with inconsistent flavor pockets. One bite was intoxicatingly sweet and smoky, the next too much so, hinting at the acrid scent of burnt rubber.

Goat cheese frittelle with chocolate, pistachio and tangerine curd
Osteria’s house-made dolci bring things right back on track. Goat cheese fritters, studded with shards of dark chocolate and pistachios, are deep fried to order and delivered piping hot on a sheet of butcher’s paper. Whether popped straight up or dipped into deliciously tangy tangerine curd, they were addictively good.

The wine program at Osteria has continued to evolve over the course of the year as well. The list remains rooted primarily in modestly priced whites and reds, with an appropriate focus, in keeping with the northern Italian bent of the restaurant, on wines from the top of the Italian boot. Markups seem to have crept up slightly since this time last year. However, the quality of wine service has improved; all glassware is seasoned, recommendations are offered thoughtfully and some earlier issues with serving temperature seem to have been addressed. Befitting the restaurant’s casual mission, the list is compact and selected with an eye toward food-friendliness rather than impressiveness. Actually, if there’s a shortcoming to the list, it is its rather limited and narrow offering of higher-end bottles.


Brda Ribolla, Movia 2005
I’ve been trying to delve a little deeper into northeastern Italian whites as of late, so when I saw Movia’s Ribolla Gialla on the list I jumped at it (in spite of the fact that it’s actually from Slovenia). Movia farms biodynamically, producing fruit of great concentration. In this case, winemaker Aleš Kristančič opts for new oak barrel fermentation. The concentration and firm, medium-acidity of the wine stood up to the oak treatment, showing the barrel influence aromatically and texturally yet not being weighted down by its presence. Its honeyed opening, mango and tangerine driven mid-palate and mineral finish made it a solid if slightly weighty pairing to most of our antipasti and primi.

Südtirol/Alto Adige Lagrein “Castel Turmhof,” Tiefenbrunner 2006
With secondi at the table ranging from game to fish and from poultry to vegetarian options, we needed a versatile red. We also wanted something interesting. After a little consultation with the sommelier on duty, we narrowed his recommendations down to Tiefenbrunner’s Lagrein, which he assured us was not as big and brash as Lagrein can often be. It certainly screamed deep purple, Lagrein’s typical shade, when poured. But our wine steward was right; it was medium-bodied and relatively food-friendly, with spicy, red berry fruit, gentle tannins and just enough acid to give it lift. A suggestion of rot and slightly baked fruit at the wine’s core kept it from being more exciting.

I can no longer touch the stuff after noon but the espresso at Osteria is the real deal.

* * *
Without question, Osteria is making strong statements through the quality of its food, the style of its service and the ambience of its quarters. Strong statements – whether expressed in a person’s personality, through art or even in restaurants – tend to elicit strongly opinionated responses. Witness this anonymous letter to the editor that appears in the current issue of Philadelphia Magazine:

"In regards to “The Philly Mag 50” [February], what is the city’s infatuation with Osteria? How can my two favorite sources of dining establishments – Philly Mag and Craig LaBan – choose that place as the best restaurant in Philadelphia? I guess there’s nothing else to compare it to. Doesn’t anyone ever eat in Italian restaurants in New York?"
- Name withheld
(From “Mailbox,” Philadelphia Magazine, Vol. 99, No. 4, April 2008.)

Quality of the food aside, the writer’s comments about both New York and the lack of a peer group for Osteria bring up good points. In a city flooded with a wealth of casual Italian BYOBs and a handful of corporate, upscale Italian wannabes, Osteria stands out for its sparkling, almost clubby ambiance, its warm, casual aura and its mostly excellent food – more New York than Philly in impact. I think that easy upscale sense has been a strong contributor to the success of Marc Vetri and Jeff Benjamin’s joint venture, which works as a local hotspot and as a destination restaurant. However, Osteria does struggle with a bit of a personality conflict. Both high prices and high concept design seem a bit at odds with the very implication of the name “Osteria,” essentially a tavern, a casual meeting place oriented around friends, wine and simple food.

Perhaps it’s that very conflict that has gained Osteria so much notoriety. With just a few tweaks to its main dishes, Osteria should be able to comfortably live in the role – that it's already practicing – as one of the brightest stars in Philadelphia’s burgeoning dining scene.

Osteria 640 North Broad Street (at Wallace) Philadelphia, PA 19130 215-763-0920 Other visits to Osteria: Easter 2007 Easter 2009

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WBW #41: White Wines from Friuli-Venezia Giulia

When Jack and Joanne at Fork & Bottle announced the topic for this month’s edition of WBW, they put forth a strong recommendation: spend at least $20 per bottle. Go for the best. My initial reaction was, “Ok, I’m on board with that.” It would give me the perfect opportunity to get into some of the wines from currently hot producers like Josko Gravner, Radikon or Edi Kante. I soon realized though that the task of acquiring those wines would not only entail the outlay of some serious greenback but would also force me either to make a trip up to New York or to resort to ordering via the Internet.

So I switched gears, opting instead to shop in my own neck of the woods. I picked up a total of three wines: the only two Friuli wines available at one of the better local Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board (PLCB) specialty stores and one Slovenian wine from my own workplace, where we don’t currently carry any wine from Friuli. They all ranged between $10-20. It’s not the first time I’ve intentionally opted to break the WBW ground rules; only time will tell if it’s the last. Along the way, I also broke a few of my own rules (more on that as we move along).

It’s fair to say that Tocai Friulano is the signature grape of Friuli-Venezia Giulia. I rounded up two examples, both from Collio, a small province in southeastern Friuli that, along with neighboring Colli Orientali del Friuli, turns out most of the consistently higher quality wines of the overall region. Its historical origins may indeed be intertwined with the famous Hungarian Tokaji in more than just name, as some viticultural historians believe that Tocai Friulano was once identical to the Hungarian vine Furmint. However, most ampelographers (though not all Italians) agree that the vine called Tocai Friulano, since approximately the 1930s, is actually one and the same as Sauvignon Vert, aka Sauvignonasse.

Whatever the case may be, a good example of Tocai Friulano typically gives peach and blossom aromas with a distinctly crisp, mineral texture. Relatively versatile, Tocai is at home both in straight-forward, tank fermented wines and in more elaborate, oak-endowed selezioni. It also makes a reasonable blending partner.

In 1993, Hungary won its petition with the EU to gain sole rights to the terms Tocai and Tokay in an effort to protect the name of its famous dessert wine, Tokaji Aszu. Most producers in Alsace have already dropped the term Tokay from their Pinot Gris. Many Italian producers are now in the process of following suit. Any wines bottled after March 31, 2007 should theoretically no longer bear the work Tocai; most will simply be called Friulano. Andrea Felluga has written a concise explanation, along with some colorful insights into the matter.

Collio Tocai Friulano, Conti Attems 2004
This was the big rule breaker. First, most Tocai is best drunk young. Picking up a wine from 2004 in early 2008 was, I knew, already pushing the envelope. Buying it in a shop that doesn’t care for its wines or exert discretion in its selection processes, though, was the real no-no. But I was prepared to take some risks for the sake of the WBW exercise. I took more.

I never buy a wine strictly because of its label; however, I often avoid wines because of their labels. Cute animals, catchy names and absurdly oversized bottles are all red flags. Attems’ Tocai didn’t offend on any of those counts yet it still threw up some warning signs. It’s purely subjective and instinctive on my part, but something about the artwork and color choices on both the front and rear labels screamed “commercial” to me and would normally have made me steer clear. I would have doubly steered clear from the partnership with Marchesi de’ Frescobaldi – a large Tuscan wine concern that has held similar partnerships with Robert Mondavi among others – as such relationships are typically constructed to leverage brand awareness and distribution channels rather than to make a good wine better. The fact that the wine is estate bottled was about the only potentially saving grace that kept me from rejecting the bottle in spite of my willingness to suffer for the greater good of WBW.

I should have stuck with my instincts. This was the first wine I’ve purchased (as opposed to tasted in passing) in years that was just plain undrinkable. Its color was promising, suggesting no signs of advancing age. The nose, however, was lacking in the fruit and charm I expect from Tocai. Instead, it smelled of artichokes, lanolin and feed corn. The wine’s medium acidity was still in tact but its texture was coarse and hinted at the beginning stages of oxidation. Fruit was also absent on the palate, which was dominated by acrid, bitter sensations and a flavor of canned creamed corn. It became less and less appealing with air and as it warmed in the glass. Was it just over the hill? The deterioration of age may have played a role but I saw no signs that there was ever any good initial raw material.
$11. 13% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Folio Wines, Napa, CA.

Collio Tocai Friulano, Colle Duga di Damian Princic 2005
Colle Duga is a small estate of seven hectares that nearly abuts the border with Slovenia in the eastern extreme of the Collio. Their Tocai, much like Attems’ above, shone a pale greenish-yellow in the glass. Lime blossom and honeydew melon met my nose, followed by a fleshy, neutrally oaked, medium-acid attack on the palate. The wine got crazy in the presence of food, totally transforming to an intense, slightly candied lemon-lime character. It recalled a distinct flavor memory from my childhood. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it but it was somewhere between the original Gatorade formula and a lemon-lime ice pop, plus a touch of Snapple peach iced tea. Though these flavors may sound strangely appealing, their unnatural character was driven home on day two, when Princic’s wine, in spite of showing a hint of its peachy typicity, smelled clearly of paint thinner and modeling cement. It was significantly better than the Tocai from Conti Attems. But at $20, marked down from $30 via the PLCB’s “Chairman’s Selection” program, it was neither a good value nor a wine I look forward to revisiting. If you do feel compelled to give it a try, I’d recommend making it a one-night bottle.
$20. 13.5% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Bartolomeo Pio, Fort Washington, PA.

Brda Ribolla Gialla, Ferdinand 2006
Given that I sell this wine at my day job, Ferdinand’s Ribolla Gialla was my failsafe for this tasting. One of my coworkers is fond of saying, “This wine is technically from Slovenia but it’s really Italian.” Apparently Jack and Joanne agree, as their definition of Friuli for this WBW episode was extended to include the hills (colle) on the Slovenian side of the border in Goriska Brda. It’s a position which is reinforced by winemaker Matiasz Četrtič’s decision as of the 2006 vintage to relabel his wine, formerly called Rebula in keeping with Slovenian culture, to the Italian Ribolla Gialla.

As Tocai is the signature of Friuli, so Ribolla, also planted in Friuli, is the traditional variety of Brda. Ferdinand’s Ribolla is simple, clean and easy, brimming with peach on both the nose and the palate. There’s a refreshing, tingly character in the mouth, accented by delicate minerality. As the wine warms, it becomes fleshier but holds onto its purity of fruit. It paired well with a semi-firm cow and sheep’s milk cheese, providing a worthy foil to both the fattiness and saltiness. Still a hint yeasty, I’ll look forward to revisiting this from time to time over the next six months.
$14. 12.5% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.

If you’ve read this far and would like to read more, why not join me and participate in the first edition of the Wine Book Club. We’re reading Vino Italiano, by Joseph Bastianich and David Lynch. Given that Friuli leads off the geographical chapters of the book and that Bastianich owns a wine estate in Friuli, it’s a clear tie-in to and jumping off point from this month’s WBW theme.

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