Sunday Suds: Granogue Cross Edition

What's that you say? Sunday Suds on Tuesday? Well, there's a first time for everything.

I spent the entire day in the great outdoors on Sunday, checking out the second day of competition at Granogue Cross 2010. As at any good cyclocross race there was plenty of time for beer, just no time to write about it. So here's my usual Sunday report, two days late but with all kinds of fun photos to help make up for the wait.


Granogue Cross is held on a private estate, owned by the Dupont family, in the countryside of northwestern Delaware. To my knowledge, the property is opened to the public only twice per year: once for a cyclocross race and once for a mountain bike race. The tower that dominates the high point of the property has become the de facto symbol for the annual CX event.

There's nothing de facto when it comes to beer's importance to cyclocross culture, though. Beer is unquestionably the official beverage of the sport. I'm talking worldwide, not just here in the craft brewing mecca of the Delaware and Brandywine Valleys. Spectators and racers alike could be found roaming the course with brews in hand throughout the day, though I suspect the majority of the racers waited until after their respective events before partaking.

As is so often the case at local cycling events, Victory Brewing Company was on hand to pour pints and dish out savory sustenance to the hungry and thirsty among the crowd. On top of being one of the sponsors of the Granogue event, Victory has been involved in club road racing throughout the Philadelphia area for many years. Their support of the local racing community is always appreciated.

My preferred draught for the day was Victory Prima Pils. It's one of my favorite American takes on the classic Bohemian pilsner style, perhaps just a touch hoppier than its usual Czech and German cousins. Between the plastic cups and the mobile pouring unit, the pints weren't perfect on this day but they still went down easy, especially paired, in good Oktoberfest spirit, with a grilled brat topped with caramelized onions and a squirt of French's.

Now that I've made myself hungry and thirsty (again), here's a little taste of Sunday's action. My point-and-shoot isn't the greatest when it comes to capturing high speed action but I hope you'll manage to muddle through just a few of my favorite pics from the day.

I worked the pits — the only place on the course where beer was not allowed — for a friend who was racing in the Elite Masters class. That's his spare mount, the Primus Mootry, second in from the front. On a muddy day, the pits would have been a scene of constant chaos. On Sunday, though, the course had all but completely dried out, thanks to steady sun and even steadier wind, after last week's rain storms. Only a few riders pulled in to switch bikes after suffering mechanicals on the course.

Laura Van Gilder — the Power Puff from Pocono Pines, as christened by race announcer Richard Fries — leading the Elite Women's field on the switchback run-up coming out of one of the forested portions of the course. Laura took the top spot on the podium on both Saturday and Sunday.

Swiss espoirs racer Anthony Grand (at right), riding for the Cyfac-Champion System Racing Team, was one of the few competitors who chose to ride that same hill. Not an easy task under any circumstances, even tougher in a crowd. Anthony went on to finish 11th in the Elite Men's event.

Just a little further back in the field, Cary Fridrich (at left, 22nd overall) dug in his cleats on the course's other main climb while Stephen Pierce (24th) put on a pretty fine display of the flying, downhill remount.

The real clinic was being put on at the front of the race, though, where another Swiss rider, Valentin Scherz (at right, with bike shouldered) and Jesse Anthony fought out the front positions throughout the hour long event. Scherz managed to build up a fifteen second advantage going into the last three laps but Anthony put in an impressive last-lap surge to close the gap, sit on Valentin's wheel for a few moments of recovery, and then take the sprint finish by a mere half-wheel margin. Like Van Gilder, Anthony made it a double-V for the weekend.

Vegan, Van Dessel rider, Victory drinker, post-punk, ink collector and Cycle-Smart founder Adam Myerson (4th), recovering in style. I told you beer was everywhere.

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For Marc

There's no question that I can sometimes be a real prick. Just ask anyone that's worked with me for any length of time over the last handful of years. (I take my work seriously, sometimes too much so. Let's just leave it at that....) Marc Mandeville, one such old coworker, would agree, I suspect. Problem is, Marc can no longer nod his head in knowing assent to such a confession. He died last weekend, finally succumbing to a nearly three year long battle with colorectal cancer. I attended a memorial service in his honor today, along with about 1,000 other of his friends, family members, coworkers, students.... It was not an easy day.

Marc was an occasional part-timer in the shop where I once toiled. He and I worked together intermittently for pretty darn close to ten years. Without hesitation I can say that we were never best friends but that we were definitely friends, and that we each held a deep-seated respect for the other. I can also say that Marc occasionally drove me crazy. Bad actor that I am, I'm sure I let him know it. You see, I'm a pretty quiet guy. Marc, though... I don't think anyone would ever describe him as quiet. That's not a bad thing in his case.

Marc was always full of life. He lived large in the context of whatever he was involved in, but always in a very thoughtful, meaningful way. It didn't matter whether he was helping a customer on the shop floor, working with his students at Episcopal Academy where he taught for many a year, pushing his players on the ice (he was a hockey coach at EA, too), or playing poker with his buddies (so I'm told). His heart, head and lungs were always in it, 100%.

Not long after Marc met with that scary diagnosis in early 2008, he took his motivational spirit to a larger stage, starting a blog (for lack of a better word) at CaringBridge that eventually reached far beyond his family and friends in its impact. No matter how badly he was suffering, Marc was always ready to lend support to other cancer survivors, others in need. Never, at least not in my experience, did he give any sense that the cancer might one day get the better of him.

In the summer of 2008, Marc's brother Pete put together a team for the first Livestrong Challenge held here in the Philly area, a team that would ride in honor of Marc and to benefit cancer survivorship and research all over the world. The following year, Marc, who I'd never know to be a cyclist in spite of his huge sports fanaticism, joined in for the ride. And this year, in the 2010 edition of Livestrong Philly, Marc's team, M-Power, was the top fund-raising squad in the entire event, pulling down over $250,000 in support of the work being done by the Livestrong Foundation. Marc rode along for the first 20 miles of the event, less than two months before losing his life to the disease he was fighting so bravely against. The video below was put together for the awards ceremony held following this year's event. It was motivational enough to begin with. Now that Marc's left us, its impact is all the more emotionally inspiring.




Heading to the services for Marc this morning, I really didn't know what to expect. Given that he'd been teaching at the school where the memorial was held, where he'd had the opportunity to touch so many lives, I should have known there would be a large turnout. But I wasn't prepared for what I found -- as I mentioned before, there must have been a thousand people there to pay their respects. The energy and emotion in the room were incredible. I know Marc would have been smiling, just as I know he'd be happy that I'm watching the Phillies (he was an avid -- no, make that rabid -- Red Sox fan) and sipping a glass of wine while I'm writing this.

There were many meaningful words spoken this morning, many beautiful voices raised. Three of the students at Marc's school performed a rendition of the Leonard Cohen classic, "Hallelujah," in Marc's honor. As much as I respect Mr. Cohen, I'm going to share a cover version of the song with you tonight, as performed by Jeff Buckley, another motivational artist who, like Marc, left us at far too young an age.

Marc was only 37. He leaves behind a loving wife, three children (aged six, three and three), a large extended family and many, many friends. Needless to say, he will be missed.

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Luna, Nebbia and Alba Over the Bricco delle Viole

Here's a second consecutive post in the déjà vu all over again department. I'm guessing that close to half of those reading this will already have seen the above photo courtesy of my pal Jeremy, who posted it this morning over at Do Bianchi. What can I say? The picture is just too beautiful not to share as widely as possible.

The image was sent to the both of us by our mutual friend, Giuseppe Vajra, scion of the G.D. Vajra estate in Barolo. You really do need to click on the photo to view it in its full glory. I don't often upload photos in unedited/uncompressed format but with this it was a must. Giuseppe snapped the shot in the wee hours of the morning, at 6:35 AM to be exact, on October 5, 2010, from the western slope of his family's plot of the Bricco delle Viole vineyard.

From A Wine Atlas of the Langhe:

"Bricco Viole belongs to the district of Vergne di Barolo and its charming name (literally, 'violet hill') is a reminder of the flowers that bloom here in springtime. And of course, violets are very much part of the aromatic profile of Barolo. This great vineyard can be clearly seen from the road that leads from the centre of Vergne to La Morra."

I love the way Giuseppe's photo gives no indication whatsoever that the terrain is one defined by vines, yet it nonetheless captures the essence of the Barolo landscape. Rugged but peacefully rolling hills and the valleys between them, the fog ("nebbia" — you'll see it in the depression between the slopes when you enlarge the photo) so omnipresent in the area, and the influence of both the sun and the moon on the land beneath... they're all there. The color of the sky, too, is simply enchanting; perhaps closer to indigo than violet on the ROYGBIV spectrum, but close enough to lend a poetic nuance to the photo's subject.

If you've any doubt of what I'm talking about, just compare Giuseppe's wee-hours photo to the mid-day shot directly above, taken by one of my traveling companions, Eric Tuverson, during a visit with Giuseppe's father, Aldo, in February 2006. The perspective is different but the flow, the hills, the essence are the same. Also, bear in mind that Alba, the name of the city central to the overall Barolo zone, literally means "dawn" in Italian. While Giuseppe and Aldo produce a single vineyard Barolo from their plot of Bricco delle Viole, their flagship Barolo, a multi-vineyard blend from parcels in Coste, Fossati and La Volta, is called Albe — "the dawns."

I truly do love Piemonte; there's something about it that just pulls me in, makes me feel rooted, at home. Thanks for sharing, Giuseppe. This is as much your post as it is mine, my friend. Un abbraccio!

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We Met in Eataly But Ate at Otto

Rain dances be damned. When I'm preparing for a trip to New York, it's the sun dance you'll find me performing. My favorite mode of locomotion 'round Manhattan, after all, is my own two feet. There really is no better way to see and truly experience New York, or any similarly concentrated city for that matter. Cycling comes close — you're still very much in touch with the feel, flow and energy — but only walking exposes you to all of the elements that make up any city's true essence.

It's not as if I'll melt in the rain — I'm not quite that wicked — but even the old school guy that I am doesn't really enjoy going on open-ended strolls through the city during a downpour, heck, not even during a steady sprinkle. So, what to do when visiting NYC and the sun dance fails? It's the perfect time to find a good spot for lunch, or any other repast, and to make a long and languorous one of it. That's just what my friends and I did on a recent rainy Monday. After a late morning stroll through the commercial glitz and food hall excess that is the recently opened Eataly, we decided to keep things Batali-esque for lunch. We headed further down Fifth Avenue, to Otto. And yes, we walked. Rain be damned.

An extremely well executed Caffè Vergnano espresso macchiato was a highlight of our Eataly walk-through; even the price (sub $2) was right. Pricing questions aside, the macelleria also looked none too shabby.

I must admit, the man, the empire that is Mario continues to mystify me. His original show, Molto Mario — you know, the one where he actually cooked — was one of my favorites of the early Food Network days. His first book, Simple Italian Food: Recipes from My Two Villages, published in 1998, remains one of my go-to cookbooks for everyday use. Yet I've been consistently underwhelmed by my visits to his dining establishments, from a forced-pace march through an over-flavored meal in the early days at Pò to a largely disappointing, relatively more recent experience with a multi-course meal at Babbo. As our trip suggests, I'm still not ready to give up.

So, back to Otto.... As it turns out, a rainy Monday afternoon is a great time to go. The barroom, as the pics below attest, was all but deserted. Just a small, rotating handful of regulars and passing businessmen in to grab a quick bite at the bar itself. Not sure I'd want to be there on a busy day but, on this day, all was peaceful. Sitting at the bar was a great way to get a read on the place, or at least to get a sense of its soul, on such a quiet afternoon. There's something convivial about sharing food back and forth, interacting with the bartender and sitting within view of both the front door and the kitchen, especially when compared to the more awkward scenario of sitting at a table in a near empty dining room. Anyway, we were looking to share, linger and relax. The bar was a good call.




Hanging at the bar aside, we'd all come with one thing in mind: pizza. That said, after meat, meat and more meat (followed by deep fried pork belly) at Bar Boulud the night before, we were all kind of craving some veggies. To our relative delight, it turned out that vegetable antipasti are something of a specialty at Otto. The funghi misti, cauliflower “alla Siciliana,” and radishes with bagna cauda were all quite good, satisfying that colonic call for something fresh and crunchy.





As one of my dining companions, Joe, has already pointed out, the pizzas at Otto are made in the Roman style, with a thin, fairly stiff and relatively un-risen crust, somewhat reminiscent of a cross between matzoh and fresh-baked pita. While I tend to favor the Neopolitan style, the nice char the pies receive on the grill brings out the best possible flavor from what the Roman crust has to offer. Though I could (and will) quibble with each pie, all were in essence fairly solid and easy to like. The sauce on the margherita was too tomato-paste-y for me; we all questioned whether the egg on the pane frattau should have been cooked before being placed on the pie (at least the yolk was still runny); and there was arguably a bit too much cheese on the cacio e pepe. The latter pie was my favorite, a comforting riff on the classic Roman pasta dish, taking its flavor from the simplest of ingredients: good sheep's milk cheese and a generous application of cracked black pepper.

To wash it all down? A bottle of Giovanni Almondo's 2009 Roero Arneis "Vigna Sparse;" a ripe vintage for Giovanni and Domenico, it's pleasingly plump at the moment yet still has that classic Arneis minerality and salinity hiding under its baby fat. Look no further the next time you're wondering what to pair with roasted and/or marinated cauliflower — a simply delicious combo. And think about it — or another clean, racy white like it — the next time you're doing pizza night. I sometimes feel like vino rosso gets more than its due attention when it comes to pizza pairing. The all Italian wine list at Otto, by the way, is far deeper than one might expect of a fairly casual, pizzeria-themed spot. Even more surprisingly, the wine prices, though not always cheap, are quite fair. There's particular strength in Piemonte — especially Barolo and Barbaresco — with an equitable balance between traditionalist and modernist producers.

After three antipasti and three pizzas one might think we'd have been ready to call it quits. During the course of our meal, though, we'd spotted not one but two different gents eating some mighty fine looking pasta at the bar. Turned out they'd both ordered the spaghetti alla carbonara; we felt absolutely compelled to do the same. Again, a good call. The pasta was dialed in — rich but not overly heavy, with an excellent chew, a deft hand with the saucing and a generous though not over-the-top dose of pancetta.





Now, back to the merits of sitting at the bar.... Our bartender, Eric, had been taking great care of us all through the meal, jumping into our conversation when invited (something we all welcomed), offering up sage advice on the menu, and generally making us feel at home. When we ordered the carbonara, he went digging behind the bar and emerged with an offering — something he thought would be regionally appropriate for our dish. I think he was kind of hoping to turn us all on to something new but he seemed just as pleased to find that we all knew the wine in question: the 2008 vintage of Coenobium, produced by Sisters of the Cistercian order at a monastery in Vitorchiano (about an hour north of Rome), under the guidance of Giampiero Bea. A killer pairing with the pasta and a much appreciated gift from our fine caretaker. Again echoing "the little brother I never had" (do read Joe's post — it's scary how much we sometimes think alike), give that man a raise, Mario!

It was still raining when we left but, somehow, I think we all minded a little less.

Otto
One Fifth Avenue (at 8th Street)
New York, NY 10003
(212) 995-9559


Eataly
200 Fifth Avenue (at 23rd Street)
New York, NY 10010
(646) 398-5100

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Cahorsing Around

I've been on a tear lately with bad puns and rather lewd innuendos, so why hit the brakes now. Likewise, I've been making a concerted effort (or at least trying to) to buy less wine and instead drink through some of the goodies already slumbering in my modest cellar. Mind you, we're not talking about ancient dust and mold collectors; I have only a handful of bottles in the over 20 age range. But there's now a decent amount of stuff spread across the K-12 age group, a lot of it, at least in theory, now hitting its prime drinking window.

Dr. Vino penned a nice piece last week on the pleasures of such drinking principles. I'll do my best to keep up with the plan and, when I feel it's worthwhile, to share some of the experiences. Here's one from earlier this week.

Cahors "La Commandery," Château La Caminade (L. Ressès et Fils) 2002
$16 on release. 13.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Wine Traditions, Falls Church, VA.
An old friend, the cuvée of Cahors known as "La Commandery" from Château la Caminade is a wine that I once sold but that I hadn't actually drunk in many a year. At eight years from harvest, it's barely — and I do mean barely — starting to show signs of evolution. Maturity would not be the word; adolescence, perhaps. Showing only the slightest hint of development in color, it was also still intensely primary on the nose, showing overt oak-driven aromas along with scents of black currants, graphite and sweet earth. If you're looking for something to throw into a mid-age Bordeaux tasting as a ringer, this would make for a good choice.

Still quite firm in its tannic structure, albeit very well balanced in that context, there's no question that this still calls out for the kind of hearty fare that's typical of the culinary traditions of SW France. My only quibble with the wine at this point — again, it's still got plenty of years to go — is its oak signature, which steps plainly into the cedar and cigar box end of the spectrum, a little too forward relative to my current preferences.

Although it cries out for rich food, even the simplest pairing helped to take the edge off both its wood profile and its tannic character, bringing out the pretty side of the wine — violets, blueberries and a cinnamon/clove spiciness that lingered on the palate as well as in the last drops in the glass.

In spite of what some might consider a borderline international personality, the more the wine opened with air, the more it showed some classic signs of the terroir of Cahors — slightly sour clay, pronounced minerality and animale character, a definite whiff of black olives and some brambly, blackberry-scented fruit. Returning to the wine 48 hours later only reinforced that perception, as the oak had plainly receded, allowing the richness of the wine's fruit and soil voices to speak through what was left in the bottle.

Speaking of the bottle, you'll see in the rather oddly cropped photo at top right as well as in the very bloggerly photo above that "La Commandery" is borne in a special package. The "La Chantrerie" bottle is used by a group of vignerons who, in 1988, along with a handful of other agricultural artisans, formed a group known as Le Collège de la Chantrerie. Their mission is one and the same as (albeit a subset of) that of La Chantrerie itself, a museum and research institute devoted to studying and promoting the traditional culinary products of the Lot department, where Cahors is located. I can't say that the specially embossed bottle is a sure sign of quality but I can say that I'll be interested in exploring the wines of other member producers.

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Marcel Lapierre, RIP

Sad news is making its way around the vinosphere today. The great Beaujolais producer Marcel Lapierre died last night after a long struggle with illness. I'm afraid I have no more detail than that to share as of yet.

Marcel Lapierre pouring his 2006 rosé at the Caves-Augé Beaujolais tasting, March 24, 2007.
(Photo courtesy of Bertrand Celce, Wine Terroirs.)

I never had the pleasure of meeting Monsieur Lapierre, only of drinking his wines. Here's hoping that he passed sans souffrir and that he will rest in peace. I've little doubt that many a bottle of his Morgon — including an '09, chez moi — will be drunk tonight as gestures of homage.


For those in the New York area, there will be a gathering to pay respects and share remembrances at The Ten Bells, tomorrow night, October 12, at around 7:00 PM.

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Sunday Suds: Yards Extra Special Ale

There's nothing quite like a good hand pump to bring you back to an old love....

If there's one beer iconic enough to symbolize the explosion of craft brewing here in the Delaware Valley over the last dozen or so years, it would have to be Yards Extra Special Ale (ESA, for short). If you walk into any of the scores, hundreds even, of establishments with reasonably serious beer programs in the greater Philadelphia area and simply ask for "a Yards, please," this is what you'll get, whether in bottle, on draft or pulled with a hand pump.

Officially founded in 1994, Yards Brewing Company introduced their ESA in 1995 (just months before I moved to the Philly area) and production of it has grown steadily ever since. I'm not sure I can pinpoint when and where I first downed a pint of it, but if I were to hazard a reasonable shot it would very likely have been at the Dawson Street Pub, not much more than a mile, if that, down the road from Yards' then home in a small warehouse space on Umbria Street in the Manayunk section of Philadelphia.

I loved it right away — a classic English-style ale, medium-bodied with a fine balance between maltiness and bitterness, nothing shy about it but, conversely, nothing in your face. And on the hand pump, at cellar temperature, which is how I remember it being served back then at Dawson's (where Yards ESA is still a staple on the beer engine), it was spot on. Creamy, soothing and all-night-drinkable.

Over the years, that love hit some hitches, began to fade. Yards grew. Their ESA appeared at more and more places around town. Sometimes there would be a not-so-fresh keg, a dirty draft line, a batch of bottles that hadn't been cared for properly somewhere along the supply chain. Or perhaps production sometimes outpaced the capacity to ensure consistency. I'm guessing it was a combination of all of those elements, not any one culprit. Of course, there were also always other beers clamoring to distract my attentions.

Alongside a dozen oysters and a lobster roll at Oyster House last night, though, I had a glass — two, actually — that brought me right back to that first love. Hand pulled. Perfectly fresh. Firkin temperature. Lovely texture. Pretty to look at, with a cascade in the glass that would remind many of a classic pour of Guinness. And, most importantly, even at 6% ABV, a touch high by session standards, eminently drinkable. Leave it to the hand pump....

Photo, which is of a standard draft pour of Yards ESA, courtesy of iandavid.

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Ippudo New York

Though my stops have been relatively few and far between, I'm intent on slowly working my way through visits to what are widely considered some of the top spots in Manhattan for ramen. Rai Rai Ken came first, followed by Momofuku and Ramen Setagaya (which is now known as Ramen Kuidouraku). Earlier this week, just before crossing town and jumping the train back to Philly, I added Ippudo to the list; really, though, I should say we, as I was back in action with Joe and Nattles, the same crew from last fall's visit to Setagaya.

While I think it's fair to say that Momofuku has the most urban vibe and frenetic energy of the bunch, it's Ippudo that slots in as the least casual, most typically restaurant-like — from its menu to its service, and from the snazzy decor to the generous table sizes and spacing. That's all reflected in Ippudo's prices, the highest of the bunch when it comes to what we'd all come for: ramen.

Of the several renditions of ramen available, I opted for the Akamaru Modern: 'The original tonkotsu' soup noodle with Ippudo's special sauce, pork belly chashu, cabbage, kikurage, scallions, miso paste and fragrant garlic oil. As the picture above does a reasonable job of conveying, Ippudo's broth is opaque and fairly deeply miso-enriched. It's intensely savory, almost too much so, as I found it hard to get through the whole bowl of broth (in fact, I didn't). The noodles, though excellent in terms of flavor, flexibility and silkiness, could have used a bit more oomph in both the tooth and girth departments in order to stand up to their dark, heady bath.

Back to those prices — if you're going to fork out $13 for lunchtime ramen, you may as well throw in an extra three bucks for the "set," as that modest upcharge will net you a nice little soy-ginger dressed salad and a surprisingly substantial side. Of the four available choices, I went with the broiled eel, classically prepared and set atop a bowl full of slightly sweet sticky rice.

I'll return to Ippudo without a doubt. Overall, it was a more than satisfying experience. I'll even go for the ramen again; I liked it more than my description above may have made it seem. That said, I'll go at dinner rather than lunch, or on a day when I'm feeling the call of the bottomless pit. Perhaps on a wintry day, when that slightly out of balance richness may be brought into check by the elements. Conversely, I won't go when I'm craving that certain ramen fix, something I'm much more prone to at lunchtime, when I'm usually looking for simplicity, lightness, comfort and a sense of being left energized at the end of the meal. For me, I'm coming to learn, that means shio ramen, served in a no-nonsense setting.



Ippudo NY
65 Fourth Avenue
New York, NY 10003
(212) 388-0088

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Clips from a Sunday in New York

Just a quick post today.... Had a great time hanging out with friends in New York earlier this week. I didn't take very many pictures this go 'round but thought I'd share a few of the highlights from day one nonetheless.

As unshutterbuggy as I was feeling then, I'm feeling even less writerly today. I should be back in the saddle tomorrow and hope this will tide you over until then.

Trisha Brown's "Off the Wall: Part 2" at the Whitney Museum of Art.

Jacky Blot's Montlouis "Triple Zéro" — a fine prelude to a very enjoyable dinner at Bar Boulud. (I told you I wasn't taking many pictures; had to borrow this one from last time.)

Cornellisen's consistently controversial Contadino: cool, crunchy, crackling... Enough with the seven Cs. Let's just say it was provocative and enjoyable, which also happens to be a pretty good way to sum up the spot where we dug it.

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A Striking Silvaner and a Solid Stopper

When last I wrote of Klaus-Peter Keller's Gruener Silvaner on these pages early this spring it was about his 2007 vintage, which I paired with simply prepared, fresh caught trout — a pretty classic pairing (even if I do say so myself). I've enjoyed the current release (2009) since then but I was surprised when hunting through my over-packed, under-organized wine closet for something to imbibe with dinner earlier this week to find a bottle of the 2006 vintage. My first thought was, "Oops, this one got away from me."

Mind you, I do realize that Silvaner can in some cases be quite age worthy. Consider Franconian Silvaners from producers such as Hans Wirsching, for example. But I've always thought of Keller's Silvaner as being intended for relative immediacy. For one, it's a basic level qualitatswein — a silly prejudice, I know, but one that's not entirely irrational. For another, it's fairly inexpensive; the current release goes for around $18, while the 2006, when it was still on the market, was closer to $15. Yeah, yeah, another silly prejudice; I do know better. And third, it's sealed with an alternative in-neck stopper, generally a pretty strong (if not universal) signal that, from the producer's perspective, the wine is meant to be drunk young.

Rheinhessen Grüner Silvaner QbA trocken, Weingut Keller 2006
$16. 12.5% alcohol. DIAM. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.
Four years is hardly old by wine standards, but then one must bear in mind that plenty of wines out there, both white and red, start to sag, droop and develop age spots in as little as one or two cycles of the calendar. I didn't think it unreasonable to expect Keller's '06 Silvaner to have slipped into that kind of decline. And I was pleased to be proven wrong.

Certainly, there's been some development. The wine now shows yellow tones in the glass, darker than its hay-tinted mineral water appearance in youth. It's also taken on some richness, both of aroma and flavor, curving much more into the Riesling-esque end of the spectrum than when young; less forthright pear fruit and salinity, more dark minerality, truffle, and citrus oil characteristics. Still, though, it remains completely vital. What surprised me most was that the element of residual carbon dioxide, so typical of the wine in its youthful stage, still had not dissipated; morphed, yes, but completely dissolved, no. Rather than a refreshing prickle on the first touch, that CO2 now expressed itself via a sense of active energy, like a wave breaking gently across the rear palate. Now I'm left wondering how it would be another year or two down the road. Alas, as is so often the case in such scenarios, this was my last bottle....

On a related note, the alternative closure I referred to above was a DIAM. As I've mentioned here in the past, the DIAM is my favorite of the alternative in-neck stoppers on today's market. Again, while four years is hardly old by wine standards, at three-and-a-half years in bottle, this might be the longest "under-cork" DIAM sealed wine I've yet had the opportunity to sample. As should be obvious from the above note, the experience was a positive one. The stopper itself was in good shape and had not — at least not to my palate — imparted any discernible flavor to the wine, something I can't say for the various plastic/polymer closures currently in use. Also, though I have heard of a report or two from others, I've still yet to encounter a TCA-tainted wine sealed under DIAM.

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