Exploring the Côtes du Vivarais

It's been over for a little more than two weeks now but I'm still missing my daily dose of Le Tour de France. As my cycling crazy brother-in-law — who was up with my sis, niece and nephew for a visit this weekend — said, "This year's race was too short." I doubt if any of the racers would agree (aside perhaps from Andy Schleck who I'm sure would like to have had another couple of chances to recoup those lost seconds), but true fans, true lovers of the sport, are always left wanting more.

Aside from the excitement of the race itself, and this year's edition was nothing if not exciting, I always enjoy seeing the event pass through various parts of the French countryside. Some spots are very familiar — I still vividly remember Kirsten Gum's interview with Prince Philippe Poniatowski several years back when the route passed through Vouvray — while others are new discoveries.

One such spot that was a horizon opener to me this year was the Côtes du Vivarais, through which the Tour passed on Stage 12. I've never traveled through the Vivarais and have drunk wines from the region only on rare occasions, as little seems to make its way overseas. My daily coverage of the 2010 Tour provided the impetus to get to know the region a little better, and to taste something along the way.

Technically part of the Southern Rhône, though actually just as close to the southernmost reaches of the Northern Rhône, the Côtes du Vivarais is something of a nether region, forgotten in between its two more famous neighbors. The region is rugged and — judging from the photos I've seen and the footage of the Stage 12 climbs — sparely beautiful, defined by the range of old mountains that roll across the landscape as well as by the Gorges de l'Ardèche that traverse the area.

The view to the south from the summit of Mont Mézenc,
the highest peak in the Vivarais at 1,753 meters.

Viticulturally, the Vivarais is also something of a transitional zone. Syrah is more important there than in the heart of the Southern Rhône yet, unlike in the Northern Rhône, Grenache is also a key player. First recognized as a VDQS zone in 1962, the Côtes du Vivarais was granted AOC status in 1999. There are roughly 550 hectares under vine, tended by nearly 140 different farmers; yet with only 22 independent producers/bottlers, a great quantity of the zone's wine is produced in regional caves coopératives. As in the overall Rhône region, red wine is the heart blood of the zone, constituting about 80% of total production, with the remainder split between rosé (15%) and white. Per INAO guidelines, the reds must constitute a minimum of 30% Grenache and 40% Syrah, with both Cinsault and Carignan allowed as minor blending partners.

Côtes du Vivarais, Mas de Bagnols (Maria et Pierre Mollier) 2005
$13. 13% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Free Run, Seattle, WA.
According to the importer/E-tailer that brought this into the country, Maria and Pierre Mollier's expression of Côtes du Vivarais rouge is a blend of 80% Syrah and 20% Grenache. While that would appear at face value to go against the INAO's requirement of 30% or more Grenache, it's entirely possible that the discipline refers to the plantation in the vineyards and that the winemakers then have the flexibility to blend as they see fit in the cellar. Of course, it could also mean that the Molliers simply make wine as they see fit. Whatever the case, what's truly important is whether or not the wine is good and expressive – the raw materials are only a means of achieving that end. It is, both good and expressive.

What it's expressive of is exactly the kind of dichotomy I've already talked about in geographical terms above. It shows some of the sun-baked, garrigue-scented red berry fruit typical of the Southern Rhône, offset by the kind of meaty, floral, blue-fruited characteristics I associate with the more approachable side of Northern Rhône reds. It's low alcohol, bright framework, too, evokes the North while there's a baked-fruit character more reminiscent of the Mediterranean. I'd not go so far as to say it reminded me of Saumur rouge, nor of the Northern Rhône reds from Gonon or Dard & Ribo, as suggested by the above-referenced E-tailer. I would, however, heartily concur that this is solid juice, showing some lovely bottle development, and a pretty tremendous value at its $13/bottle tarrif. Definitely worth the exploration.

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TDF 2010 Stage 12: Bourg-de-Péage to Mende

Today's étape, the 12th of the 2010 Tour de France, could be thought of as a bridge stage, as it sees the race leave the Alps clearly behind, along with eastern France, while it also begins the inevitable march toward the Pyrenées.


While the Alps may have been left behind, there's no lack of climbing today. The stage includes five categorized climbs, culminating in a finish atop the Category 2 Côte de la Croix-Neuve, now known as the Montée Laurent Jalabert in honor of the multi-faceted French champion who won there after a long solo escapade on Bastille Day, 1995. I can still remember watching — a beautiful victory from one of my favorite all-time riders. Jalabert went on to finish 4th overall that year, his highest GC finish ever and a tremendous result for a rider who started his career as a field sprinter.

Laurent Jalabert, resplendent in the maillot vert at the 1995 Tour.
Image courtesy of Graham Watson.

The route of today's stage also acts as a bridge from the cool climate wine growing regions visited during the first half of Le Tour to the warmer, drier climes of the more southern and southwestern portions of France. Beginning in Bourg-de-Péage, about 18k ENE of yesterday's finish in Bourg-lès-Valance, the riders head roughly due west, crossing the Rhône near the aptly named Tournon-sur-Rhône. Here, we're in Syrah country, at the foot of the Northern Rhône, Crozes-Hermitage immediately to the north and Cornas, along with the white and sparkling wine region of St. Peray, just a tad further to the south.

Syrah isn't happy much further north than this; Côte-Rôtie is about as far north as it goes in France. Go just a touch further south, though, and the scorching heat and dry summers can be a bit much for it, pushing its ripeness levels past the point of elegance and making it more appropriate as a blending partner rather than a soloist. For my two cents (or more often $20-50 plus), there's no place on earth where Syrah finds a finer, more expressive, sometimes even elegant voice than in the Northern Rhône.

One of these three is going down tonight. The question is, which? Depends on what's for dinner... and my frame of mind after a day at the office. Whichever the choice, it will surely be enjoyed while watching today's (recorded) coverage of the Tour; I'd much rather listen to Paul and Phil than Hummer and Roll (sorry, Bobke).

The race won't dawdle for long in the Northern Rhône, though, as once across the river the peloton will quickly head WSW toward the finish, a total of 210k later, in Mende. Much of this time will be spent traversing the ups and downs, twists and turns of the Monts du Vivarais, home on the southeastern side of the range to one of the more obscure wine regions of the Southern Rhône, the Côtes du Vivarais. It's cool enough in the high altitude vineyards of the Vivarais that Syrah is still most important here, at least at the Mas de Bagnols, but Grenache often joins it, bringing a warmer flavor profile to play.

If time permits, I'll report back on this evening's stage, sup and sip.

Up next: to the Tarn we go.

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Wines at the Spring Table

One of the most enjoyable aspects of my day job on the retail wine sales floor is helping people select wines to pair not just with their Monday night pizza but also with really specific dishes. It can be an overly fetishistic process, I know, but when the stars align, the end results can also deliver an amazing amount of pleasure. That’s exactly what I shoot for, and exactly why I enjoy the challenge.

One of my favorite challenges in that context is recommending the wine pairings to accompany the seasonal menu at Talula’s Table, something I’ve been doing on a more or less monthly basis ever since the inception of their farmhouse table dinners. When I have the opportunity to eat there myself, I’ll sometimes take exactly what I’ve recommended. The occasional self-test is always a good thing. Just as often, though, I’ll pull wines from my own cellar, always with an eye to the food but also with an eye toward fun and exploration as well. On this trip, it was mostly the latter….


Nahe Riesling halbtrocken, Schäfer-Fröhlich 2006
$19. 11.5% alcohol. Cork. Rudi Wiest Selections, Cellars International, San Marcos, CA.
Very approachable if somewhat muted, and definitely a good starting point for the meal. There’s a subtle vegetal sense at the wine’s middle but overall it’s driven by flavors of orange oil and red slate spiciness… I’m guessing there’s a measurable dose of Frühlingsplätzchen fruit included. Its acidity is slightly lower than usual (most likely a vintage signature) but not in a bad way; it made the wine gentle and beckoning rather than flat. A still lingering dash of residual CO2 helped keep things lively.

I’ve heard great things about the ’07 version – which I believe follows the current fashion of dropping “halbtrocken” from the label – but have yet to have the opportunity to try it. (As a matter of trivia, winemaker Tim Fröhlich is a member of the VdP’s Junge Generation.)


Wachau Unterloiben Ried Loibenberg Loibner Grüner Veltliner Smaragd, Weingut Emmerich Knoll 2002
$26. 13% alcohol. Cork. Vin di Vino, Chicago, IL.
As much as there is to detest about Pennsylvania’s state controlled liquor and wine system and as much as I’m prone to gripe about it (here’s a recent example), I can’t say it’s not without the occasional accidental merit. You just have to have patience and do a little foraging to find it. Case in point, I stumbled upon this ’02 Knoll Smaragd GV not long ago. It was priced at an already reasonable $33 – the current vintage goes for upwards of $50 – then marked down further to $26. There being no visible suggestions of damage or foul play, I rolled the dice and grabbed a bottle. Good move.

Weingut Knoll is unquestionably one of the top producers in the Wachau. The wines are made in a non-interventionist fashion, with the emphasis always being on quality of fruit and expression of terroir. Most of their wines are fermented in steel, aged in wood (purely for oxidative effect, not for oaky flavors of any kind) and are built to last.

At seven years, this Loibenberg Grüner Veltliner has assumed an almost day-glo yellow color, like classic Gatorade diluted with Pilsner. The inherent flesh of a Smaragd wine has come out with rest in the bottle; its acidity totally resolved and mellow. Immediate impressions were of lemon confit, white peaches and truffled minerals. The typical peppery character of younger and/or lighter styles of GV, if ever present in this wine, had completely dissipated. On day two – leftovers are usually “handled” by the crew in the kitchen but some of this was definitely coming home with me – the wine improved if anything. The peach fruit took on a spicy nuance while the minerality became more profound yet simultaneously more delicate. Aromas were of heady white and yellow blossoms, followed on the palate and down the gullet by light marmalade, clover honey and a suggestion of malted mocha. As delicious as it is now I’d drink up if you’re holding any, though if you have more than a couple of bottles it could be academically interesting to hold one for a few more years.


Saint-Joseph “Lautaret,” Eric & Joël Durand 2005
$30. 13% alcohol. Cork. Fruit of the Vines, New York, NY.
This was my first encounter with the wines of Domaine Durand, so a little research is in order. Brothers Eric and Joël took over their family estate in 1991. Their farm comprises a total of thirteen hectares (eight in Saint-Joseph and five in Cornas) planted to mostly granitic soils. They grow only Syrah and produce solely red wines in, by their own admission, a fairly modern style.

They didn’t need to tell me that, though, as this comes out of the gates with a dense, rich and developed fruit attack, all wrapped up in a sash of spicy oak. There’s definitely some good raw material here but the wine, for me, came across as dull, muddied by overly concentrated fruit and lacking the hothouse flower and pepper scents I associated with more transparent expressions of Saint-Joseph rouge. In its defense, it did gain interest with some time in the glass, developing a little earthy, mushroomy nuance. But not enough to send me scampering back for more.

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Blood and Iron in San Luis Obispo

San Luis Obispo County Syrah “Bassetti Vineyard,” Edmunds St. John 2003 $27. 13.3% alcohol. Cork.
Steve Edmunds calls his basic red “Shell and Rock,” a reference to the soil beneath the vines from which he sources the fruit and to the flavors that soil imparts to his wine. Following the same paradigm, an apt name for his Bassetti Vineyard Syrah might be “Blood and Iron.” They’re the two flavors that resonate most clearly through this wine. While I can’t say whether or not they’re typical elements of San Luis Obispo Syrah, I definitely get the feeling, tasting this, that the blood and iron elements are the earth’s way of speaking through the vehicle of Edmunds’ work. For once, a California bottle blurb actually seems on point.

Brambly and sanguine, driven by intensely stony, iron toned structure. There’s a little savage character at work, carrying an animal aspect across the palate, braced by angular tannins and high acidity. Spicy, wild, red berry fruit leads a sharp attack on the palate. Complicated, a bit of a soft-spoken bully on its own, this is wine built for food, a more than happy partner to the lamb burgers I threw on the grill a couple of nights ago. In fact, this seems tailor-made for lamb, as the sweet, gamy flavor of the burgers, brushed with just a little olive oil, helped bring the wine’s hard edges into harmony. The blood, iron and spice matched the savor of the lamb.

Pouring this alongside another producer’s Bassetti Vineyard Syrah might make for an interesting Lab Report. For now, I’ll throw an herb rubbed leg of lamb on the grill and settle for the wine’s immediate pleasures at the table.

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Notes from a Sunday

Just a few notes today, from a casual get together with the usual suspects. In this edition, we started off with a couple of beauties from 2005 in the Loire before moving on to a Bourgogne Passetoutgarin, which I already wrote up under separate cover earlier this week. With dinner, an older Bordeaux seemed in order. Finally, my buddy Bill begrudgingly admitted to a Syrah epiphany.

Jasnières “Les Rosiers,” Domaine de Bellivière (Eric Nicolas) 2005
“Les Rosiers” is Eric Nicolas’ young vine cuvée of Jasnières, 100% Chenin Blanc fermented and aged primarily in barrels of 1-3 years with a small percentage of new oak. Though usually sec-tendre in style, this seems closer to demi-sec richness, no doubt due to the concentration provided by the 2005 vintage. It also happens to be showing as well if not better than any whites I’ve had from Bellivière in the past. Its richness is well bridled, thanks to the good acidity bound up in the wine’s creamy texture. There’s an unmistakable essence of pear nectar right up front, followed by classic notes of clover flowers and honey-glazed minerals. After aeration, some botrytis driven and vegetal funk sneaks through on the mid-palate but there’s still excellent upper and rear palate feel. Pears galore on the finish. $25. 13.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Louis/Dressner, New York, NY.


Savennières “Cuvée Spéciale,” Château d’Epiré 2005
The “Cuvée Spéciale” from Château d’Epiré represents a selection of the best fruit from the property, mostly from a plot located adjacent to Nicolas Joly’s “Coullée de Serrant.” The version handled by d’Epiré’s US importer, Kermit Lynch, differs from that sold in France, as Kermit gives strict instruction that the wine be bottled without filtration. As opposed to the Jasnières above, this is a bone-dry expression of Chenin. Vintage derived concentration plays a role here as well, resulting in a slightly aggressive frontal attack, the result of intense physiological extract and slightly high alcohol. The wine bristles with mineral density. Flavors of gooseberry and white grapes are followed by dried floral and herbal elements, subtle on the nose, magnified on the palate. After a couple hours of airtime, a scent of spearmint emerges, something I think of as a signature element of dry Savennières. Very good wine that could definitely benefit from cellaring to allow integration and development. $23. 14% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Kermit Lynch, Berkeley, CA.

Haut-Médoc, Château Guittot-Fellonneau 1997
Guy Constantin produces real, old-fashioned Bordeaux from a whopping four hectares of property on the outskirts of the town of Macau. His estate is just a stone throw – on the wrong side of the road, essentially – from falling within the borders of Margaux. Lucky for us, as the wines could still be had for under $20 only a few years ago; unlucky for him as a more privileged address might have made him a slightly wealthier man by now. 1997 was universally panned by the big critics – proof “embottled” that points don’t mean a thing, as I’ve enjoyed several delicious ‘97s from a number of small-to-medium Châteaux over the last year or two. This has a long way to go but is starting to show some lovely bottle development. The nose is loaded with graphite/lead pencil aromas along with black and red currant fruit, a touch of bay leaf and really savory earthiness. Medium-bodied, taut and well delineated, it’s a damn good example of Bordeaux that’s not only inexpensive but can also be enjoyed with more than just steak and lamb. In this case, we paired it with braised chicken breasts and mushrooms, a dish Bill adapted from a recipe in Pierre Franey’s “Cuisine Rapide.” $17 on release. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Wine Traditions, Falls Church, VA.


Saint-Joseph Rouge, Domaine Georges Vernay 2006
Bill is a self-avowed Syrah hater. He loves red wine, mind you, as long as it’s from Burgundy, the Loire, Beaujolais or Piedmont. He’s even been know to drink Grenache based wines from time to time. But Syrah? Nope. I’ve been out to prove him misguided for a while now and the opportunity finally presented itself a few weeks back when I hosted one of these Sunday gigs at my place; most are at his. I’d given strict instructions that he not bring anything. Translation: he was at my mercy. I poured a bottle half-blind, meaning I knew what it was but the rest of my guests had no idea. It was a bit unfair, I suppose, not just because of the trap but also because it was an older bottle. A damn good one, at that, the 1997 Cornas “Vieilles Vignes” from Alain Voge, a really top-notch if somewhat underappreciated producer.

Bill liked it. After I told him what it was, he still liked it. So much so that he went shopping a little while later and came home with an armful of another Northern Rhône Syrah, the Saint-Joseph Rouge from Domaine Georges Vernay. Bill liked this one as well. I did too. It’s a really fine example of young Saint-Joseph, redolent of dark red berries, cinnamon and black pepper, with a streak of black olive and bacon, a hint of beefiness and supple but really visceral texture. Medium-bodied, no discernible oak and a totally transparent winemaking style. Sandwiched between Christine Vernay’s basic VdP Syrah, which is only about $10 less, and her Côte-Rôtie, which run three-to-four times the price, this is a really solid value, suitable for drinking now or stashing away for the next ten years. $30. 13% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Weygandt-Metzler, Unionville, PA.

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A Pair from the Rhône, Ten Years After

Eight or more years ago, I was still buying a lot more Rhône wine – and California wine, for that matter – than I do today. It’s not that I’ve lost my taste for the Rhône; in fact, I still really enjoy the wines of southeastern France that show the character of their place without being buried by today’s prevailing trend toward higher alcohol. But I digress. Today’s topic is not a slamming of high-octane wine but rather a look at a couple of wines that have had some time to grow.

One of the benefits of the contrast between my old shopping habits and current drinking patterns is that I have a decent handful of Rhône wines stashed away that are now coming of age. The picture tells part of the tale; as one wine was pulled from my cellar, complete with scuffmarks that bear witness to its rubs with other bottles over the years.


Gigondas “Le Grand Montmirail,” Domaine Brusset 1998
I bought several bottles of Brusset’s 1998 “Grand Montmirail” on release, opened one immediately and the others at progressive intervals. Sadly, it wasn’t until the last of my bottles, enjoyed recently, that it started to show much of its potential. Earlier bottles had always seemed ungiving. Not hard or tight, just mute. Finally shed of its baby fat and showing its inner structure, this was a good example of the elegant side of Southern Rhône wines. Medium bodied and supple, with subtly spiced red berry fruit, gentle tannins and a well-developed bouquet of bacon, dark spices and garrigue. Its overall impact conjured images of a smooth white rock, like the galets in the Gigondas vineyards, covered by spiced raspberry confiture. Warm and reservedly fruity on the exterior, cool and stony at the core. $23 (on release). 13% alcohol. Natural cork. Importer: New Castle Imports, Myrtle Beach, SC.

While there’s always the chance that the time and space devoted to cellaring won’t pay dividends, it’s a much greater risk to buy old wines on the standard retail market – especially when they’re on closeout. Nonetheless, I’ll occasionally run into just such a wine that presents a combination of factors that will make me, even if against better judgment, pick up a bottle or two on the off chance that I’ll land on the up side of the risk/reward spectrum.

Cornas “Cuvée des Coteaux,” Robert Michel 1998
I do still look for and buy a reasonable amount of Northern Rhône wines, so when I spotted this Cornas recently, tucked away in an odd corner at a local shop, I did a double-take. It passed my usual visual inspections: clean labels, a capsule that spins freely, no sweet or sour aromas emanating from under said capsule, a good fill level – in short, no outward appearances of abuse. It also passed the rear label test: a Rosenthal Wine Merchants selection, one of the members on my short list of “just buy it” importers. When a quick price check came up $17, I did a triple-take. Immediately suspicious of malfeasance, I nonetheless found it hard to pass up the prospect of mature Cornas for a mere pittance relative to its usual price point, which starts at around $40 for current releases of most producers’ regular cuvées.

Closeouts like this are risky. In many shops, they’ll indicate a wine that’s been collecting dust on the shelves, ignored, unwanted and – most significantly – abused for years until, after repeated markdowns, they finally beckon to unsuspecting bargain hunting, price driven shoppers. Equally likely, it’s been lost in the corner or under a pile of other wine at a distributor’s warehouse. The chances of abuse are just as high there as at your corner liquor store, so buyer beware. Worse yet, and this happens regularly, the wine could have been returned by one shop, where it languished through a hot summer (or five), only to be re-inventoried and resold to another retailer at rock bottom prices. The apparently pristine condition of this bottle, however, suggested that it had most likely been lost in the shuffle at its original US source, Rosenthal, and then sold at significant reduction to the PA system just to move units out of inventory. This still begs the question as to why it hadn’t sold upon release. But all things considered, I was willing to chance it.

The bottle turned out to be in solid shape. Fully mature but not at all tired or worn, its tannins had softened to yield a wine of gentle texture and developed aromas. That said, it wasn’t very exciting, which may help to explain why there were bottles left unsold ten years after its vintage date. Shorter and simpler than I would have hoped, the main flavor impression it left was of a red berry fruit rollup that had been used as a saddle blanket during a warm day’s horseback ride. A minor issue with brettanomyces might be another reason for its remainder status. Given the mere $17 chance, this was a risk well played. It didn’t leave me entirely disappointed, as I drank it happily with a simple dinner of grilled sausage and peppers over brown rice. But I won’t be rushing back for the remaining bottles. $17 (closeout). 12.5% alcohol. Natural cork. Importer: Rosenthal Wine Merchants, New York, NY.

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A Duo of the Trio Infernal

It’s the busy season ‘round these parts. Though I’ve already hit on some of the highlights from the Brewer’s Plate on Sunday, I’d be remiss in not mentioning the earlier part of the day’s doubleheader. Two winegrowers – Peter Fischer (pictured, at left) from Coteaux d’Aix en Provence and Laurent Combier (at right) from Crozes-Hermitage – stopped by the shop for a meet, greet and taste with our customers. I spent the entire business portion of the day pouring, discussing their wines with the attendees and offering the occasional half-assed attempt at translation for Laurent (whose English is as good as my French, which is to say awkwardly serviceable) when Peter wasn’t near enough to save me.

I’ve written about one of Domaine Combier’s wines here before. They’re old favorites of mine – beautifully detailed and freshly fruit driven examples of Northern Rhône Syrah. We tasted his 2006, which was fresh off the boat. His name for it is “Cuvée Classique,” though it’s simply labeled as Crozes-Hermitage. The 2006 is a bit leaner and snappier than the more robust 2005 and certainly not as soft, rich and developed as the 2003. Nonetheless, the Asian spice, citrus zest and fresh crushed red berries that form the signature aromatic profile of Combier’s reds are present as always.

The day’s tasting progression actually started with the basic Coteaux d’Aix en Provence rouge from Peter Fischer’s estate, Château Revelette. In the past I’ve often found myself on the fence about Peter’s wines, not really understanding the whites, the rosé or the more heavily elaborated red, “Grand Rouge.” It’s amazing what a difference actually meeting a vigneron and getting to learn more about the peculiarities of an estate and its terroir can make. In other words, I really enjoyed his basic rouge. Peter selected it for the day because he wanted to highlight the typicity of his region, which is at the northern extreme and highest altitude of the sprawling Coteaux d’Aix appellation. The cool nights in the hills of the region help to keep the fruit healthy and fresh on the vine, retaining more acidity than typical in the more arid, southern parts of the region. The wine is a blend, in roughly equal parts, of Grenache, Syrah and Cabernet Sauvignon, fermented and aged in tank only. Medium bodied and with a lively acid profile, its combination of brambly black fruits and freshness recommends itself to a wide range of culinary matches.

Though both Fischer and Combier make a fairly broad portfolio of wines at their own estates, their primary purpose for the voyage was to present the wines from their new venture: Trio Infernal. The two men, along with Jean-Michel Gerin of Côte-Rôtie, bought a property in Spain’s Priorat in 2002. The three growers take turns, always two at a time, making the seven-hour road trip to Priorat once every week or two, staying for non-stop stints of 24-36 hours at a time. Of course, a full-time worker is on-hand at all times to ensure the health of the vines. As at both of their home estates, farming at the Infernal is organic and done purely by hand. A modestly natural approach is taken in the winery, with no fining, only light filtration and minimal application of sulfur.

The first two vintages at the estate were trying: 2002 for its heavy rains and 2003 for its high heat and drought conditions. In 2004, Peter explained that the trio got their arms fully around the nuances of the land, turning out wines that, by Priorat standards, were quite elegant. 2005 gave wines of more puissance – stronger of flavor, slightly fuller and a touch more tannic. For now, the trio produces only a duo of wines. Befitting their understandable obsession with the number three, they are simply called No. 1/3 and No. 2/3 (number one of three, number two of three, not one/third, two/third). They plan eventually to produce a third wine but don’t yet know what it will be.

No. 1/3 is a blend of 40% Carignan and 60% Grenache from vines spanning an age range from 15-35 years. It’s fermented in tank then aged in barrels of one, two, three and four wines. Though it’s firm of grip, there’s a bright red-fruit driven palate and young flavor profile that makes it approachable now. Laurent deems it worthy of up to eight years in the cellar; Peter ups the ante to ten.

No. 2/3 is 100% varietal Carignan, produced from extremely low yielding vines that were planted in 1906. Here, Carignan – usually relegated as a blending-only variety – shows that it can have something to say in its own right when produced from healthy, ancient vines. There’s an unmistakable aroma of dark cocoa powder and cinnamon along with crushed mulberries, all of which echo on the palate. This cuvee sees some new oak, which shows in the mouth but with good integration and in balance with the wine’s tannic structure. Both men find the wine tight at the moment and suggest it may go for twenty years. On day two, both wines were fully together, showing more openly ripe, slightly pruned dark berry and plummy fruit.

Typical Frechmen? It's a source of befuddlement for me that so many winemakers smoke. It doesn't seem to stop these guys from turning out good wines.
I’m the first to admit that I don’t drink much Priorat. Heck, I don’t drink much Spanish wine period. However, these two do show greater finesse and, not to overuse a good word, freshness than I’ve experienced in many other wines of the region. If there’s a problem, it’s that the wines fall hard in the context of QPR. At $50-60 and $100-110 respectively, they may be reasonably normal in the Priorat price range. I even understand the prices to a point; land costs are high, labor conditions are extreme and the journey alone is arduous. But I plain can’t afford to drink them. Thus is admitted one of the most commonly shared guilty pleasures of the public and private tasting experience.

If anyone out there has tried these wines or has other Priorats to recommend (or avoid), I’d love to hear your thoughts.

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Crozes-Hermitage and Venison

A good buddy of mine returned from a trip to western Virginia recently with an entire deer hindquarter, courtesy of his hunting cousin. I wasn’t about to pass up the section he offered me. It was essentially a small "filet," cut from the upper part of the animal’s leg. As good as was the slow-cooked daube that he and his significant other had prepared from the bulk of the leg meat, this portion called out for a quicker, dry cooking technique. After slicing the steak on the bias into four little medallions, I simply hit each piece with salt, pepper and a tiny sprinkle of ground nutmeg. A quick pan sear over medium heat with a bit of olive oil was all it took to reach rare to medium-rare temperature.

When thinking of a wine pairing for game, it’s all too natural to jump automatically into the realm of big, burly reds. But with extremely lean meat like venison, soft tannins, supple texture and generous fruit are the order of the day.

Crozes-Hermitage, Domaine Combier 2003
Laurent Combier grew up in the organic orchard business started by his grandparents. In 1990 he founded Domaine Combier, building on the small vineyard property owned by his parents. He’s since expanded the estate to about 20 hectares, all farmed organically and planted largely to Syrah along with small parcels of Marsanne and Roussanne. His wines, particularly this flagship Crozes-Hermitage rouge, reflect Laurent’s heritage as an orchard man. They do not represent the dark, brooding side of Northern Rhone Syrah. Nor should they ever be associated with the underwhelming, over-cropped or carbonic maceration side of Crozes-Hermitage. Laurent’s wines simply brim with clean, pure fruit.

When first opened, Combier’s 2003 Crozes belied its hot growing season with aromas of fresh crushed raspberry and boysenberry fruit, citrus confit and a light-handed touch of wood. Medium-bodied and lively on the palate, red berry fruit was highlighted by Asian spice notes and well-integrated, finely grained tannins. With the baking spice tones of the wine in mind, I’d intentionally chosen nutmeg as a seasoning for the venison. Not only is it fairly traditional as a spice for deer but I also hoped it would find a natural groove with the wine. I wasn’t disappointed, as it turned out to be a pairing that brought forth an extra depth of savor in both the wine and the meal.

The Syrah held up well into its second day, developing darker, more evolved flavors. Both acidity and tannins had become gentler, letting the riper, darker side of the fruit show through. Though not a candidate for long-term aging, I do think it will continue to develop along a pleasantly mellowing course for another three or four years before its charms begin to fade.

$27. 13% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ, and Charles Neal Selections, San Francisco, CA.

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