Wine and Cheese Classes at Talula’s Table

It’s Monday, it’s happy hour and today’s special is… cheese. Talula’s Table is now offering a series of cheese “happy hours” on Monday evenings. Held in the shop from 6:30 to 8:00 PM, the classes typically place a regional or thematic focus on all things cheese. I’ve been working for the last couple of weeks with Aimee Olexy, resident cheesemonger at Talula’s, to pair wines with her panoply of farmstead fromages. Sessions thus far have covered introductions to the cheeses of Spain and France. Next week’s course, on June 4, will shift to a sociological topic: cheese and wine made by women. The wines I’ve selected for the evening are:

• Pfalz Scheurebe trocken, Weingut Weegmüller 2005:
  Stefi Weegmüller is one of the premier growers in the Pfalz. She turns out some of the cleanest and most characterful wines of the southern Rhine.
  
  
• Dolcetto di Dogliani “Sorí dij But,” Anna Maria Abbona 2005:
  Anna Maria Abbona has been farming 8 hectares of vineyard, planted mostly to the Dogliani specialty Dolcetto, since 1989. Her wines are focused, aromatic and beautifully food friendly – everything that the best Dolcetti should be.
  
  
• Côtes du Rhône “Bout d’Zan,” Mas de Libian 2005:
  In 1995, Hélène Thibon took over the farm that had been in her family since the late 17th century. She farms organically on the western banks of the Rhône, producing bold, fruit-focused wines based primarily on the local specialty, Grenache.

Sessions begin with a brief mingling period, followed by an hour or so of interactive discussion which will cover the basics of cheese making, general information relative to the theme of the evening, the finer points of cheese and wine pairing, and detailed information about each selection. As hard as Aimee and I work on making the pairings harmonize, she also delights in taking advantage of the available options to create an intentional mismatch. It can be just as eye opening – and perhaps even more educational – than the perfect match.

Classes are priced at $25 per person and are open to twelve attendees. For more information or to make a reservation for a class, contact Talula’s Table directly at (610) 444-8255. And stay tuned here for more information about the upcoming schedule of events.

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Buffalo Soldiers

Is there a more quintessential American food and wine pairing than buffalo and Zinfandel? Whatever your answer, it seemed like a good idea when this Memorial Day weekend presented the perfect opportunity for a long overdue get together with some good friends for a bit of cooking, eating and wine tasting. Besides, what better opportunity would come along to try out my grilling skills on the bison flank steak I’d scored at the inaugural day at the Oakmont Farmers Market? Or to open one of the bottles of Ridge Zin that has been collecting dust in my cellar for the last seven or eight years?

Rod Wieder of Backyard Bison has committed to setting up his trailer at the Oakmont market this season and I was eager to sample the fruit of his labors. Though a bit disappointed on first visit that nothing was available in a never-frozen state, I nonetheless eagerly selected a bison flank steak and a package of ground buffalo. After toying with several preparation options for the flank, including the marinade recipe provided by Rod and a recipe for stuffed bison in the D’Artagnan cookbook, I finally decided on the purist route – grilling with nothing other than salt, pepper and a modest rub of olive oil. The method: a hardwood charcoal fire, direct medium heat and all of about three minutes on each side. The results: perfectly medium-rare, an agreeable workout for the mandible and very flavorful. Bison is not at all gamey, the flavors being more like beef but a touch sweeter and a good deal less rich, probably due to its much lower fat content. All of this spelled good tidings for a well made wine match.

Every time I open the door to my cellar – which includes an entire row of bottles with short, silver capsules – I’m presented with a clear reminder that I cut my teeth on Ridge’s wines. Over the years, what once was unabashed fondness has morphed into more of a passing interest, as my tolerance has waned for high-alcohol, in-your-face wines. The upside of that evolution is that I now have a decent number of Ridge’s bottlings that are approaching or starting into their second decade. Just on the cusp was the bottle selected to accompany the bison: 1998 York Creek (Spring Mountain, Napa Valley) Zinfandel. Winemaker Paul Draper’s label notes suggest that the wine should have passed its prime if not headed downhill by now. My experience, however, has been that Ridge Zinfandels – aside from their simplest bottlings – possess a longevity that far surpasses the norm for a variety not overwhelmingly known for its age-worthiness. This bottle maintained that track record, still showing plenty of red cherry and spicy red berry fruit, softened yet untarnished by age and presenting a persistent backbone of dusty tannins. The 14.9% alcohol level hid well and the wine paired admirably with the lean, flavorful meat.

The concept of marrying things from a place can often work wonders in the wine world. Just think of Roquefort with the sweet whites of Southwest France, a raw bar assortment with a brisk, briny Muscadet, or – why not – buffalo steak with good Zinfandel. Sometimes, though, that practice can be taken too far. Case in point: the wines of Ridge Vineyards. I can’t help but think how much better this wine could have been if not for one major stylistic stroke. Ridge insists on pairing their quintessentially American wines with the use of American oak in the cellar. It’s a match that I feel works to the detriment of their wines, lending them an intense aroma of cedar and giving them edgy, green wood tannins. Even after ten years in bottle, when these tones have mellowed, they’re still unmistakable. I don’t think switching to French oak would render Ridge’s wines any less American; it could simply make them better. One can’t help but admire Paul Draper and the team at Ridge for sticking to their guns. That said, we should never be afraid to question dogma in whatever form it takes.

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Wine with Bill

Less often than I’d like, I find the opportunity to get together with friends to cook some good food. Recently, I did just that with one of my stalwart food and wine pals, Bill. Inspiration for this occasion was entirely seasonal: a ramp romp. Bill’s friends who live out in the Chester County countryside have a tremendous perennial crop of wild ramps growing right on their property. Having harvested far more than they could consume on their own, a generous “donation” was made to Bill’s larder, giving us the perfect opportunity to explore one of the most fleeting flavors of spring. Of course, it also gave us a great excuse to open a few interesting bottles of wine.

Of late, Bill’s been a much more accomplished wine shopper than I. Frequenting one of his perennial favorites, State Line Liquors, and one of his new troves, Chambers Street Wines, he’s been coming up with some pretty interesting stuff. A couple of the more esoteric bottles from Chambers Street seemed like the perfect place to get started….

Vin Mousseux Aromatique de Qualité Medium Dry “FRV 100,” Jean-Paul Brun NV
Brun produces some of the most natural, idiosyncratic wines of Beaujolais. A recent bottle of his 2005 Morgon is among the best wines I’ve tried this year. He apparently has a lighter side, captured in this oddball of a sparkler. Varietal Gamay vinified in the Méthode Ancestrale results in a pink, semi-sweet, low-alcohol, strawberry scented spritzer. Even odder than the wine was its label, black with reflective lettering reminiscent of circa 1970’s “One Day at a Time” bumper stickers and covered with whimsical, multi-lingual words all beginning with F, R or V – code for effervescent. The label would normally have been enough to scare me away but the contents, simple as they were, were hard not to enjoy. At a mere 7.5% ABV, it would make a perfect cold fried chicken picnic wine.

Beaujolais Blanc “Terres Dorées,” Jean-Paul Brun 2005
Not odd in the vein of the previous bubbly, it’s still fairly rare to find a Beaujolais Blanc on the American market. Brun’s varietal Chardonnay bears much more in common with the wines of Saint-Pourçain, neighbor to the west in the upper Loire district of the Auvergne, than with the Bourgogne Blancs of the Macon just to the north. Lemony, lean, minerally and relatively low-alcohol (12%), this would pair well, in lieu of other more obvious options, with a mixed shellfish platter. It was a bit too high in acid and lacking in fruit to pair well with our first course of braised turkey meatballs over gorgonzola dolce with sautéed ramps, where something equally lively but a bit juicier may have better served.

Muscadet Sevre-et-Maine Sur Lie “Le L d’Or” Domaine Pierre de la Grange, Pierre Luneau-Papin 1995
Though also a mismatch with the ramps and meatballs, this was the most enlightening wine of the night. Common wisdom would have it that Muscadet is wine only for quaffing in its youth. It’s beautiful to see, then, “vin de garde” examples like this that are still fresh and vibrant after ten or more years of ageing. Showing a pale golden-green glow in the glass, developed mineral flavors but still primary fruit and lively acidity, this could last another five or ten years with little problem. My interest in this bottling was further piqued by the fact that I sell Muscadet from Luneau-Papin’s daughter's property, Chateau Les Fromenteaux, where Pierre looks after all of the vineyards and viticultural practices. I’ll have to sock away a few bottles of the 2005 Fromenteaux “Clos du Poyet” for a rainy day with expectations that a knack for quality and structure runs in the family.

As we cleared the plates and started on the final touches for our main course of roast chicken with olives and sautéed ramps, it seemed as good a time as any to narrow down our red options. Bill was chomping at the bit for some good Burgundy. And so it was….

Chambolle-Musigny Premier Cru “Les Sentiers,” Domaine Truchot-Martin (Jacky Truchot) 2003
I first came across Jacky Truchot’s fantastically expressive red Burgundies in the late ‘90s. I remember being shocked at how pale his wines appeared in bottle, almost rosé-like to the uninitiated eye. I’ve managed to stay in touch with the estate through occasional tastings and chance encounters. His 2003s, like most Burgundies, are atypically dark and rich. Yet the finesse stemming from Jacky’s old-school approach in the winery and natural touch in the vineyards still resulted in wines of real class. The 2003 “Les Sentiers” is drinking beautifully, with silky red fruit, delicate, supple tannins, floral aromatics and Truchot’s trademark sprightly acidity. It’s a pity that the estate is no more. Jacky retired after the 2005 vintage with no heirs to carry on his legacy.

Up to this point, we had yet to touch any of the bottles I’d brought along for the evening. With a bit of effort, I finally convinced Bill to save his ’95 Baudry Chinon for another day. Instead, we pulled the cork on a bottle that I’d almost forgotten in my cellar.

Langhe Nebbiolo, Cascina Vano 2001
Modernist, traditionalist and centrist quibbles aside, Langhe Nebbiolo tend to fall into two camps: those that are produced from the younger vines and declassified fruit in Barolo or Barbaresco vineyards and those that are grown outside of the delimited zones for the big B’s. The former examples tend to be early drinking, gentle and aromatic expressions of Nebbiolo, giving glimpses of the lovely fruit and aroma of Piedmont’s great vine without the intensity of tannin it often delivers. Vano’s wine falls into the latter camp – wines built, because they stand alone, like “baby Barbarescos.” They can carry power and structure combined with fruit and aroma and can provide a wallet-friendly glimpse into the full realm of the Nebbiolo tasting spectrum. They just happen to come from the wrong side of the street.

I knew there must have been a reason that I socked away some of Bruno Rivetti's 2001 Langhe Nebbiolo. There was. Six years on, it was still rock solid. Expansive fruit, merging primary tones with the early beginnings of tertiary characteristics, combined with firm structure and lovely balance to make this wine almost as eye-opening a surprise as the Muscadet had been. Additionally, as much as I liked the Truchot Chambolle, the Nebbiolo matched more adeptly with the zesty flavors of Bill’s chicken and ramps.

By typical standards, we’d properly sated our appetites. However, there were molten chocolate cakes in the pipeline so, since Bill had returned from an earlier trip to the cellar with some “leftovers” from a few days back, we thought we’d finish off with one last taste.

Maury “Cuvée Spéciale 10 Ans d’Age,” Mas Amiel NV
A close relative to the sweet reds of Banyuls and Collioure, Maury paired with chocolate cake is kind of a no-brainer. This ten-year old from Mas Amiel is a great value wine, built in a lot of ways like a 10 year Tawny Port but with slightly lower alcohol and darker, more persistent fruit. In the classic method for sweet red Roussillon wines, the 10 Ans d’Age spends the first year of its life, following fermentation and fortification, in glass demi-johns which are left outside of the winery, exposed to the full forces of sunlight and temperature variation. A further nine years in huge old casks provide a slow, somehow preserving oxidative environment in which the wine develops its final characteristics. Rich yet mellow toffee, raisin, black cherry and raspberry tones ally with low acidity and firm tannic structure to give balance to a measurable level of residual sweetness.

Why shouldn’t all Tuesday nights be so rewarding?

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Oakmont Farmers Market Update

It’s only a few days before the grand opening of the Oakmont Farmers Market. I’m psyched for day one and thought a little background information might help build anticipation for others as well.

This real, urban market is part of Farm to City, an organization supporting community and sustainable agriculture through a series of farmers markets in the Philadelphia area. The Oakmont Farmers Market will be only the second outpost of Farm to City – along with that in Swarthmore – to be based outside of the Philadelphia city limits.

Confirmed producers for the inaugural year at the market include:

• North Star Orchard: Multiple varieties of apples, pears, plums, peaches, cherries, fruit butters and ciders
  
• Fruitwood Orchards Honey Farm: Local honeys and a variety of fruits and vegetables
  
• Willing Hands Organic Farm: Organic produce
  
• Blueberry Hill Farm: Produce
  
• Pumpkin Ridge Creations: Cut flowers
  
• Hillacres Pride: Cows’ milk cheeses, beef, pork, lamb and poultry
  
• Great Harvest Bread Company
  
• Backyard Bison: Burgers, steaks, ribs, roasts and cured meats from locally pastured American Plains Buffalo

The mission of the market is simple: to provide an outlet for local farmers to present their naturally grown goods directly to members of their own greater communities. The market is producer-only; to be represented, all products must be grown and produced within 100 miles of Havertown. The idea is not only to provide healthy, natural products but also to promote a greater reliance on locally farmed food. Why buy an “organic” apple from Washington State, a blackberry from Mexico, ground beef from Texas or broccoli from China when you can get them and other great seasonal goods from a farm in your own community? When the food on your table doesn’t travel hundreds or even thousands of miles to get there, its environmental impact is gentler and its greater freshness is made that much more meaningful.

Opening ceremonies begin at 3:00 PM sharp this Wednesday, May 23, 2007. Bring your families, bring your shopping lists and help to strengthen your community by eating great, locally grown food.

Oakmont Farmers Market
Wednesdays from 3:00 to 7:00 PM
May 23 – November 21, 2007
In the Oakmont Parking Lot
One block NW of the intersection of Darby & Eagle Roads
2419 West Darby Road
Havertown, PA 19083

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Napa: A Day of Contrasts, Part Two

Afternoon session – Stony Hill Vineyard:
Following our morning visit at Oakville’s Harlan Estate and a reasonably tasty yet uncharacterful lunch at St. Helena fossil Tra Vigne, we headed up the valley for our afternoon appointment. Character abounds, we would find, at Stony Hill Vineyard. Heading north out of St. Helena, turning left up the access road for Bale Grist Mill State Park and then left again onto the private road which leads to the winery, we quickly found ourselves in an atmosphere that would have provided fodder for the tales of Poe or Tolkien. A forest of small, gnarled trees – dark red bark mottled by lichen, limbs intermittently draped with a local moss – lends an eerie aura to the narrow dirt road that winds its way up the mountainside.

Making the last sharp turn up the incline and crunching to a stop in the gravel parking area at Stony Hill, we were greeted first by an enthusiastic little wire-haired terrier and then, our presence announced, by office and site manager, Mary Burklow. After a round of introductions, Mary led us on a path along the ridge of the hill, straight through the vineyards and directly into the estate’s tiny winery building. As soon as she thrust the door open, a blast of cold, damp air rushed out to meet us. Welcome to Stony Hill’s barrel room…. With little ado, Mary pulled a barrel sample, poured us each a splash from the pipette and asked us to guess. Knowing that they produce one of Napa’s few Tocai Friulano (from old-vine fruit grown at neighboring Larkmead Vineyards), and sensing a faint floral, peachy hint lurking behind the yeasty aromas of fermentation, I guessed – and was wrong. It was their 2006 Gewurztraminer, light, bone dry and misleadingly crisp and un-spicy.

Five or six barrel samples later, we’d learned a bit about Stony Hill’s winemaking practices. The barrels themselves first jumped to attention. In stark contrast to the uniform ranks of gleaming new cooperage at Harlan, many of the casks here, bowing and graying though still obviously airtight, showed signs of serious age. Mary explained that the barrels, mostly barriques with some larger casks and tonneaux, are anywhere from 14-50 years old. That’s right, 50, almost as old as the winery itself. Kept sanitary from year-to-year, these relics go right on doing their work, providing a neutral environment for Stony Hill’s backward wines to come to life. New barrels are introduced only when a member of the older generation finally gives up the ghost.

Fruit is bladder pressed, the juice settled and then inoculated. Primary fermentations are carried out in wood in most cases, followed by a racking off the lees. Their Riesling is fermented and aged half in steel, half in barrel and then blended prior to bottling. The Gewurztraminer and Tocai are barrel aged until April following the harvest; Chardonnay and Semillon stay in wood until June. Malolactic fermentation is avoided for all wines, a practice necessitating a wee bit of sulfur but kept relatively natural by the incredibly cool cellar conditions. In their own words, “Malolactic fermentation both destroys the acid structure of the wine and introduces extraneous flavors not borne from the grape itself.” Given this admirably stoic approach, I was a bit surprised that primary fermentations are not left up to the wild yeasts; Mary explained that native yeasts do play a role but are often not strong enough to ensure a complete, steady fermentation.

Since 1973, Stony Hill’s wines have been made by Mike Chelini, who originally joined as vineyard foreman and was quickly promoted to winemaker. Mike’s approach is as old-school as I’ve come across just about anywhere, much less in the heartland of ultra-modern California wine country. The wines are grown naturally in the vineyard and brought to life in the cellar. They speak of both. The concept of terroir at Stony Hill clearly reflects not just the hillside environment but also the feel, taste and smell of their old, stone barrel room, a trait that reminds me very much of a past visit to the caves of Prince Philippe Poniatowski in Vouvray. Like there, the wines are meant to taste of the place and they’re built to last.

If it hasn’t already become obvious, Stony Hill is one of the few estates in the Napa Valley that rests its reputation solely on the production of white wine. They’ve been at it since 1947, when original owners Fred and Eleanor McCrea planted Chardonnay in homage to the great whites of Burgundy. At the time, only 200 acres of Chardonnay were planted in the entire state of California but the McCrea’s sensed that their little kingdom, perched on the hillside 400-800 feet above the valley floor, was a special place. Their commitment to the potential of Napa Chardonnay remains today, as it represents over 75% of their overall vineyard area of 39 acres. The balance of their land is planted to Riesling (10 acres) with Gewurztraminer and Semillon rounding things out at three and one acre, respectively.

The only wines of color produced come from a small plot of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot – planted as a pest control device along a property line bordering on a stream – and from a ¼ acre plot of Syrah planted only five years ago as part of the family garden. At present, all 100 or so cases – two reds and one rosé – are destined for staff consumption and entertainment only; not a bottle of any is sold. Current owner Peter McCrea, son of Fred and Eleanor, described the rosé – a saignée of the Cab/Merlot blend – as “swimming pool wine.” Mary more colorfully called it a classic PD wine. If you’re scratching your head like I was, “PD” is code for panty dropper…. Peter confirms that the estate does not plan to market anything other than whites in the future.

Coincidentally, as at Harlan, annual production at Stony Hill runs around 3,000 cases. And nearly all of the wine is sold directly to mailing list customers, with just a small percentage going to local restaurants and to a few detail-minded distributors in key urban markets. With a 60-year history though, Stony Hill Vineyard is one of Napa Valley’s pioneering estates. And their wines top out at $35 per bottle.

Stony Hill Chardonnays and Rieslings have earned a reputation as being among the most age-worthy dry whites produced in the Napa Valley. Thinking back to those barrel samples pulled for us by Mary, even the 2006 Gewurztraminer and Tocai, wines meant for early enjoyment, showed uncommon structure. Still in steel, the Riesling was too impenetrable to assess. The 2006 Chardonnay, however, held serious promise. It smelled a little of cellar must on the nose but, loaded with stony minerality and vibrant acidity, hinted at a long future.

Back in the McCrea’s dining room toward the end of our visit, tasting the current releases of Stony Hill Chardonnay from bottle reinforced our earlier impressions and spoke volumes about good work in the vineyard. The 2003 Chardonnay, product of a drought year in this part of St. Helena, was atypically rich and fleshy for Stony Hill yet still tasted young, fresh and clean. The 2004, though, really spoke to the potential for these wines. Tight on the nose, very Chablis-like in its aromas, bright, racy and steely on the palate, it’s a wine I’d love to drink in another ten or even twenty years.

That was just about it for our visit. We followed Mary down the grade to the bottle storage barn to pick up the handful of ’03 and ’04 Chardonnay we’d purchased. As I packaged the bottles for a safe ride back East in the airline baggage compartment, Mary disappeared for a moment. Upon her return, she handed us a bottle of their White Riesling, vintage 1992, and made us promise to have it with dinner when we got back to Monterey that night. Paired with a simple plate of sautéed snapper and roasted Jerusalem artichokes, it was a delicious reminder of our visit – hinting at the mellowed edges and mineral tones that come with age, tasting very much alive and finishing with a touch of sweetness.

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Miami Dining: Michy's

Alright, I admit it. I couldn’t bring myself to go through another trip to southern Florida without including at least one ambitious restaurant on the itinerary. After conducting a modicum of research, I decided to make it Michy’s (6927 Biscayne Boulevard, Miami). Chef Michelle Bernstein and husband David Martinez opened Michy’s in 2006, designing a menu that successfully dances between nods to Bernstein’s South American roots and a clearly Mediterranean approach to main ingredients and technique. Asian flair, Florida tradition, the occasional Italian influence and classic brasserie selections also present themselves. It’s all wrapped up in a two-part menu, smaller offerings followed by slightly more substantial plates, with every dish available in half or full portions. The idea is not to be a tapas bar but rather to provide the diner with the option of creating a personalized tasting menu or selecting a more traditional appetizer/entrée pairing.

Michy’s is a street front operation, set in an active business and shopping district in the Upper East Side of Miami proper. Though a front entrance is available, most patrons arrive from the rear. A back porch, adjacent to the parking lot which is valet-only on weekends, allows for al fresco dining. That’s never my thing when dining more seriously, particularly not with the smelled but not seen dumpster ambiance that’s inevitable given a parking lot frontage, no matter how nicely it’s dressed up with plants and palms. In any event, we dined on a Sunday evening in the midst of a violent, spectacular thunderstorm. Open air dining was not an option. Once inside, the rear entrance hallway leads past the restrooms to the host table set in the corner opposite the bar and looking into the main dining room. The square room is inviting and smartly casual, with twilight blue walls offset by white linens and mix-and-match dollhouse dining room style chairs. Tables are spacious without being oversized and are set in an uncrowded yet intimate arrangement. The small bar itself serves mainly as service space, an alternate dining area or as a place to have a quick drink while waiting for a table; it does not appear to draw an active drinks-only or wine tasting crowd.

The main wall behind the bar is functionally decorated – a wall of wine. While it provides some eye candy for the room and easy access to bottles, it does a disservice to the wine itself, leaving the bottles exposed to the vagaries of Miami climate control. Aside from the storage snafu, the wine program at Michy’s is well conceptualized, sized to offer variety and to complement the menu without being out of scale with the space nor overtly pretentious. Like the menu, the cellar offers some international variety but centers its strength in versatile, food friendly offerings from France. Particularly good depth is available from Burgundy and the Loire. Few bottles break the $100 barrier with plenty of solid choices under $50. Mark-ups are quite reasonable.

The t-shirt and apron clad wait staff were friendly without being intrusively so, relatively well informed as to the food and wine selections and not afraid to share an opinion or some constructive criticism about the menu offerings. We were given plenty of space and time to peruse the menu and wine list. Service was done in tag-teams and was solid though just a bit shy of the ideal attention to pouring and timing. After taking some time to consider the menu, I finally decided on a mixture of half portions chosen for diversity, interest and local inspiration.

Peruvian Style Ceviche
Changed daily based on local market availability, Sunday’s ceviche was a mixture of grouper, shrimp and scallop, prepared with just the right level of lime driven acidity – refreshing, lively yet unobtrusive. The plate, extremely generous given the $8 half-portion, consisted of well-sized morsels of seafood offset texturally by crisped, puffed Peruvian corn – somewhat akin to CornNuts® with a gourmet flair – and a garnish of roasted yams.

Turks and Caicos Conch, Escargot Style, Garlic, Parsley, Butter
Here’s a dish that just doesn’t exist in the Mid-Atlantic States. While I knew that it was unlikely to showcase the real talents of the kitchen, I simply had to order it in the context of eating locally. The menu description was apropos, a pair of smallish conch par-boiled to a toothsome yet tender chew, sautéed in garlic and parsley butter, and then reinserted into their shells and set in a shallow pool of the same garlicky sauce for presentation. There was nothing cutting edge nor even particularly interesting about the dish; I wouldn’t order it a second time but I couldn’t pass it up the first.

Wine note: Rias Baixas Albariño, Do Ferreiro 2005
At first sip this was classic Albariño: crisp, lemony, briny with a suggestion of off-dry fruit up front wiped away by cleansing, refreshing acidity. The problem was that the finish included a hint of rot, a possible growing season flaw but more likely the result of a short bout of heat damage somewhere in the shipping or storage cycle of the bottle. A bit disappointing as a result, the wine nonetheless worked well enough with the simple seafood starters.

Crispy Sweetbreads, Braised Pork Jowls, Jason’s BBQ Sauce, Fava Beans
For an ex-vegetarian (long past), I’m astonishingly fond of organ meats. The honeyed pungency of sweetbreads, in particular, can be hard to refuse. And Michy’s preparation didn’t disappoint. Lightly crisped, still quite juicy, the sweetbreads were set atop a cluster of smoky, tender pork jowl glazed by the executive chef’s own BBQ sauce and balanced on the palate by a sprinkling of small, perfectly cooked favas.

Lamb T-Bone, Eggplant-Harissa Terrine, Fruit & Nut Couscous
The sweetbreads may have been the most inventive combination of the evening. The lamb, though, proved to be the kind of dish I’d go to again and again. A single, thick-cut lamb t-bone, cooked perfectly medium-rare, stood on end topped by a dollop of herbed butter. The couscous, fine little pearls, was cooked just past al dente, seasoned with aromatic Moroccan spices and sweetened with the addition of just enough Mediterranean fruits to offset the fiery, earthy kick of the harissa slicked eggplant terrine.

Wine note: Santenay “Vieilles Vignes,” Michel Colin-Deleger 2002
Red Burgundy has a reputation for delicacy, for being one of the most easily damaged wines in the general marketplace. But there were no problems with this bottle, a welcome relief after the bruised Albariño. Warm red cherry and berry fruit, medium ruby color and delicate aromas combined with well balanced acidity and soft, supple tannins to make this an excellent pairing for the sweetbreads and to provide just enough stuffing to do justice to the lamb dish. It didn’t hurt that it represented a reasonably good value given the all too often insanely high price points of village level Bourgogne on restaurant wine lists. My only complaint goes right back to Michy’s wall of wine – the serving temperature was about five degrees too warm.

Pear-Apple Tarte Tatin, Thin, Crispy and Warm, Sabayon Ice Cream, Sea Salted Thyme Caramel Sauce
Though tarte tatin is not the signature sweet of the house, I was drawn to the idea of rum-infused ice cream and the promised savory accent of sea salt and thyme. That accent would prove to be the only real saving grace of an otherwise mundane dessert, an all too common ending at many smaller chef-driven restaurants. The tarte itself was reasonably executed but lacked that certain something extra that could have taken it to the next level.

Wine note: Cadillac, Château Reynon 1999
1999 was a solid vintage for botrytis affected Bordeaux stickies and wines from the somewhat obscure Cadillac AOC don’t often appear on US lists so I was jazzed to try this. As soon as I saw the thimble on a stem in which it was served, I knew I should have passed on dessert wine. Tiny “liqueur” glasses do not provide enough room for wine, no matter how sweet, to show its aroma; I’d always rather see a small pour in a regular white wine glass than the illusion of a full pour in a tiny stem. In any event, the Cadillac was tasty if simple and worked reasonably well with a dessert that was sweeter than expected.

All in all, Michy’s is a destination restaurant that would also make a great neighborhood haunt; I would visit regularly if it were in my own town. The menu is interestingly conceptualized, the food skillfully executed and the wine list manageable and selected with care. Aside from the somewhat lackluster dessert offerings, the only noticeable faults related primarily to minor flaws in service and presentation, problems much more easily rectified than those emanating from a less well-honed kitchen. I think I’ll look forward a bit more optimistically to my next Miami sojourn.

Michy's
6927 Biscayne Boulevard
Miami, FL
(305) 759-2001


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Miami Miscellany

I’ll be blunt right up front. If I didn’t have family in the Miami area, it’s a place I’d rarely if ever choose to visit. Because my brother-in-law Erik lives there though, fate – mixed with a dash of brotherly love – takes me there every year or two. Erik’s generally an eat-to-live kind of guy so it’s rare that our visits revolve much around food and wine destinations. On this trip, though, I decided to make the best of things by seeking out some good, basic chow in the context of Miami’s multi-cultural hodge-podge.

In South Beach proper, we stumbled upon a couple of decent grazing stops, places I would pass by for dinner but which offer some pretty solid cheap eats for lunch or snacks. At Sushi Rock (1351 Collins Avenue, Miami Beach) we found well cut and impeccably fresh nigiri and the most elaborately presented (and tasty) lobster tempura roll I’ve ever seen. A few blocks away, Lime (1439 Alton Road, Miami Beach), while hardly a serious Mexican restaurant, is a worthwhile stop for fish tacos, fajitas and other good sultry afternoon munchies. The food’s a bit bland on its own but can be doctored to order at Lime’s condiment counter with a selection of about 20 different salsas and 50-odd hot sauces.

With my crew, any trip to Miami requires at least one jaunt into the Florida Keys where The Fish House (102401 Overseas Highway, Mile Marker 102.4, Key Largo) is our traditional lunch stop. A typical Keys spot – half local hang-out, half tourist trap – The Fish House does a good job with no-nonsense preparations of local seafood. Their conch chowder is a must – chunky, spicy and full of toothsome nuggets of, you guessed it, conch. Likewise, their fish sandwiches, grilled, fried or blackened versions of the day’s catch, are de rigueur. Taking the back way out of the Keys afforded us the opportunity to stop at a local crabber’s stall, just short of the Card Sound Bridge, and pick up a couple of pounds of stone crab claws. Fresh, sweet and refreshingly briny, they were the perfect pick-me-up after the drive north and saved us the lines, hubbub and prices at Joe’s Stone Crab, a Miami tourist institution we chose to avoid.

Saturday Night's Live at Tap Tap

Back to South Beach on a Saturday night, the one stop of our basic eating adventures that could stand on its own as a dining destination was Tap Tap (819 Fifth Street, Miami Beach). Aided by live music in the back room, it also happened to be, by far, the most fun of our Miami meals, though we had to push to make it so. The hostess had initially tried to seat us in the empty front room. Tap Tap serves traditional Haitian food in a colorful, multi-room set-up far enough off of the main SoBe drag to avoid the plastic club set but close enough to ensure a good vibe. Their simple beer offerings and non-existent wine list are more than compensated for by good use of Haiti’s own Rhum Barbancourt. Barbancourt 3-Star (with an optional upgrade to 5-Star) forms the base of their house cocktails. The Natif – rum, fresh lime juice and a slight shake of cane sugar, served on crushed ice – made for an exceedingly refreshing drink, well suited as an aperitif and a better match with food than their equally tasty Mojito. Both the pumpkin soup and stewed goat (served with fried plantains and a wickedly hot and vinegary cabbage slaw) were rustic, soulful and completely satisfying.

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Napa: A Day of Contrasts, Part One

When working in the wine trade, it becomes quite common for wine visits – part pleasure, part work – to be intertwined with personal vacation. Case in point: when making a long overdue trip to visit some good friends in Monterey, California earlier this year, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take them along for the three-hour drive up to the Napa/Sonoma heartland for a few days of wine exploration. After two very relaxing days investigating the Sonoma, Russian River Valley and Healdsburg areas, we capped things off with a whirlwind of a day in Napa. Our choice of winery visits that day, Harlan Estate and Stony Hill Vineyard, proved to be a most unusual combination, a stark study in contrasts.

Morning session – Harlan Estate:
As it stands today, Harlan Estate is the end result of the classic California modest-to-magnificent entrepreneurial success story. A butcher’s son, founder Bill Harlan grew up in Southern California. As an adult, he and some friends founded Pacific Union Realty, where Bill quickly amassed a fortune through strong investments and a good head for the market. When the wine bug eventually bit, he leveraged his capital to become a partner in Merryvale Vineyards. During his tenure at Merryvale, Bill’s dream, to create a Napa Valley equivalent to the First Growth châteaux of the left bank of Bordeaux, eventually gave birth to what is now Harlan Estate. He spent roughly ten years purchasing and piecing together the six original properties that now make up Harlan’s 240-acre spread. Today, forty acres are under vine, with a pure focus on hillside vineyards; the remaining 200 acres consist of building lots and protected forest area. Since their first vintage in 1990, Harlan has quickly built a reputation for producing one of the most highly sought after and expensive wines in the state, appearing on just about every major critic’s top-five list of most collectible California “cult wines.”

Before I proceed too much further, I should warn you: don’t get your hopes up, wine country tourists. Harlan is not typically open to visitors. As a rule, they accept only one visit per week, always by appointment only, almost always by a member of the trade or a large-scale, existing customer. I lucked my way into an appointment via the trade route as I work at a shop which is one of the few retail outlets in the country for the wines of Harlan. Again, don’t get your hopes up, shoppers. Every bottle is pre-sold. The wine never makes it onto the shelves. It probably doesn’t in any store. Frankly, Harlan could get away with never accepting visitors. They’d still sell every bottle they make. But any good marketing mind knows that allowing an occasional peek at the elite builds demand and anticipation. To that end, Harlan Estate employs a full-time hospitality and PR manager, Ted Davidson.

Ted’s job began well before our arrival. I don’t believe I’ve ever received so many confirmation and informational phone calls and e-mails for a single winery visit. His last call provided details for a detour, through the vineyard paths of neighbors on the valley floor, around some unannounced road work on the lane leading up to Harlan’s unmarked, private drive. Once through the electronic security gate, we wound up the switchback drive to find Ted ready to guide us into an appropriate parking position. Our first stop on the tour was less than typical. A set of wooden stairs led to a wooden landing built into the hillside looking down onto Harlan’s lower vineyards and the valley below. Waiting on the landing were five Riedel flutes and a chilled bottle of Bollinger NV Brut Champagne – not a bad way to get things started. We enjoyed our early morning glasses of bubbly while learning a bit about the history, mission and landscape of the estate, our discussion intermittently accented by snips from the pruning shears of the Central American field crew working the vines immediately below us.

The terraced vineyards at Harlan spread across the hillsides of their property over an elevation range from 200-1200 feet. The dips and curves of the Oakville Grade provide for a diversity of exposition and slope, leading to the identification by Harlan’s vineyard manager of over 60 different block characteristics. Typical to the terroir of Oakville, which includes a high percentage of Napa and Sonoma volcanic soil, Cabernet Sauvignon rules the roost, representing about 80% of the estate’s plantings. Vines are rounded out by Merlot (10%) as well as Cabernet Franc and Petit Verdot which together comprise the remaining 10%. About 40 different plot and vine-specific barrel selections are made by the winemaking team, giving them a great degree of flexibility and nuance when determining the final blend in any given vintage. Fruit is not put into production here until the sixth or seventh leaf; vines are considered mature at 15-20 years depending upon site and variety. With yields ranging from 1.5 to 2.5 tons per acre, fairly low by Napa standards, concentration and quality are sought first and foremost. Roughly 20% of each year’s crop – produce from the youngest vines and fruit not quite up to grade – is sold off anonymously on the local market. Anonymity is strictly maintained to avoid possibility of brand dilution via the creation of “Harlan Vineyard” bottlings by any other producers.

The biggest parts of the typical visit, a walk through the vineyards and a tour of the cellars and winery, turn out to be Ted’s simplest. We set not one foot in a vineyard, viewing the plants and earth only from our perch on the hillside deck and from the upper driveway. And the winery is the epitome of simplicity. Harlan makes only two wines, both red and both relatively non-interventionist. As a result, equipment is kept to the highest quality basics. Because bottling is simultaneous for both wines and done only once per year, hiring a mobile bottling unit is preferred to owning and maintaining in-house equipment. Most primary fermentation (about 80%) is carried out in open-top oak casks, with the remaining 20%, mostly for the Merlot and Cabernet Franc, conducted in steel. Aside from space for the vats, a bladder press, de-stemmer and a few other necessities, the majority of the pristinely clean, unadorned yet handsomely designed space is given over to barrel storage. To support the richness and structure of their fruit, Harlan uses 100% new barriques in which their wines age for 26 months, resulting in three vintages resting in barrel at any given time. Cooperage is of the highest quality. The center exterior portion of each barrique is intentionally “painted” with a coating of its contents, giving the barrel room a warm, organic yet highly manicured aura. We were not offered barrel tasting samples.

For our final destination, Ted led us into the hospitality section of the winery, a single, high-ceilinged, exposed beam room with a lounge area, tasting/dining table and one of Mr. Harlan’s three private wine libraries (books, not bottles). Floor-to-ceiling glass doors span each length of the room and, in warmer weather, can be opened to admit the hillside breezes and provide a panoramic view of vines and benchland forest. In this “hunting lodge chic” room, the hopes of something to taste would finally be realized. First though, all of us relaxing in the black leather arm chairs in the sitting area, Ted took the opportunity to provide us with a fuller understanding of the concept of the estate.

As mentioned earlier, Bill Harlan’s original and continuing vision is for his property and wines to be thought of in the same way one might consider the greatest estates of Bordeaux. When one mentions Château Latour or Château Lafite-Rothschild, the idea goes, there is little need to mention that they are located in Pauillac and, in theory at least, there should be no need to mention grape variety. They are known simply as “Latour” and as “Lafite.” This aim is reflected in the branding campaign, the labeling and the packaging of Harlan’s two wines. In addition to elegant and consistent artwork, the labels simply state the name of the wine and the place of origin. Grape names do not appear and there is no “story” on the back label. Also like many of the most respected estates of the Médoc, Harlan produces only two wines: their first-quality wine, Harlan Estate, and a second wine, The Maiden. The Maiden is not intentionally crafted to be gentler, simpler or cheaper; rather, it is an honest second wine, produced from the younger vine fruit of the estate and from barrel selections that do not make the cut for the first wine. And like the great growths of the Gironde, Harlan’s wines are expensive. The most recent releases, straight from Harlan’s mailing list, were priced at $350 and $100 per bottle. Good luck finding them at those prices once they hit the retail and secondary markets. Harlan Estate, in particular, can at least double in value as soon as it hits the shelf or the auction block. They are wines only for the wealthy, the lucky and the foolhardy; that said, the wines are good.

When we finally got down to the business of tasting, we realized that we were, after all, being offered barrel samples. The final blend of the 2004s had been racked for bottling just days earlier; the half-bottles of each wine we’d spied on the coffee table had been pulled from the bottling vat that very morning.

The Maiden 2004 offers a lush, forward mouthful of plum, raspberry and blueberry fruit with a subtle hint of menthol, all framed by ripe, fine-grained tannins. The wine is built to last but already, before even undergoing its destined sixteen months of pre-release bottle aging, eminently drinkable. Less than 1000 cases of The Maiden are produced each year and it is offered for sale only via the estate’s mailing list. Contrary to popular myth, you need not “know someone” to get on Harlan’s list. Anyone interested can sign up and all will be offered a limited number of bottles of The Maiden in the first year. It will, however, typically take three or more years of purchasing The Maiden before access to the Harlan Estate bottling is offered. Once you’re offered Harlan, your previous allocation of The Maiden is turned over to new customers.

Not much remained at this point of our visit other than the pièce de résistance. Harlan Estate 2004 is seriously good juice. Black cherry in color and opaque at its core, it shows a lovely tint of ripe cherry red at its rim. The flavors are bigger, more powerful and brooding relative to The Maiden. Its tannins are firmer and more muscular. One senses a serious expression of the Oakville hillside terroir, not loaded up with unwieldy winemaking flourishes. Flavors of concentrated black currant, blackberry and roasted meats prevail, with tremendous length on the finish. Winemaker Bob Levy targets a 20 year peak for this wine, well beyond the current trend for a 5-10 year apogee at most Napa wineries. By contemporary standards, its alcohol content is reasonable at 14.5%; its balance is impeccable. I’d love to have some of this in my cellar. At $350+ per bottle though, I can’t afford a drop of the stuff – and Ted wouldn’t sell me any that day, even if I could. At least two-thirds of Harlan’s limited 1,500 case production is sold directly to mailing list customers. The balance goes primarily to high-end restaurants and to a very limited number of retail outlets.

At the end of the morning, when Ted made it clear that our time was done, it was hard not to leave feeling impressed. Harlan’s property is one of the most spectacular, not in ostentation but rather in natural position, in Napa wine country. It was also hard not to feel like we’d been rolled through a highly practiced exercise, seeing and hearing only what is desired. And tasting, it seems, only by luck. If not for the recent racking of the 2004’s, I was left wondering if we’d have been served any samples. Even on visits to Latour and Lafite in the winter of 2004, in full knowledge that I was not representing a buyer of their products, I was offered at least two or three vintages of the marquee wine plus several back vintages of the second wines. But then, their production levels are about ten times that of Harlan – and their history and experience centuries longer. It will be interesting to see how the vision at Harlan Estate stands the test of time.

Stay tuned for a report on part two of the day. Our visit to Stony Hill Vineyard would prove to be another world relative to the morning’s adventure.

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To Swirl or Not to Swirl?

When conducting tutored wine seminars, I often demonstrate basic tasting techniques. Foremost among those techniques, I always stress the importance of sniffing. I see far too many people just grabbing a glass of wine and chugging away. Slow down folks! Taking a good whiff of a wine before sipping is a great way to preview what’s to come on the palate. And I always find it interesting to discover the similarities and the differences between aroma and flavor.

An easy way to enhance the sniffing experience and to increase one’s overall enjoyment of the wine experience is to master the art of the swirl. Whether on a table top or freeform, left-handed or right-handed, there’s a point to it beyond just trying to look like a member of the cognoscenti. The act of swirling coats a greater surface area of the glass with a thin layer of liquid, encouraging dispersal and evaporation of esters – the aromatic compounds in wine. By swirling, you’ll get a much more complete exposure to the range of smells, good or bad. And that should increase not just your overall enjoyment of imbibing but also your understanding of what differentiates one wine from the next.

An increasing number of restaurants, recognizing the importance of wine to the overall dining experience, have incorporated a form of the swirl called “seasoning” into their sommelier services. A small bit of the wine to be consumed is poured into your glass and swirled while tipping the glass, coating the entire inner surface before being poured into the next glass where the process is repeated. The idea is both to remove any remaining vestige of dish soap or lint from a polishing cloth and also to prepare the glass for receipt of the small test pour and, once the wine is accepted, a full pour. Think of it as full-service swirling. It takes only an ounce or so to season the stemware for the entire table. Babbo, Mario Batali’s flagship Manhattan restaurant, has developed a reputation for seasoning glasses. It’s the kind of practice that can lead to rather spirited discussions between admirers and detractors.

Of course, there are times when swirling can be a bit over the top. I occasionally find myself absentmindedly swirling a glass of water. A coworker’s boys grew up swirling their milk, a trick learned from their dad but a practice they quickly unlearned in the school cafeteria. For adults, the habit can be harder to break.

As important as swirling is to the wine experience, it is anathema to tasting and analyzing spirits. Swirling wine, remember, helps to release beneficial aromatic esters from the thin coating distributed inside the glass. Do the same with your favorite straight spirit, though, and you’ll quickly find yourself with a snoot full of little other than the burn of alcohol. When making the switch from fermented beverages to distillates, the rules change. Once the alcohol percentage crosses into the twenties and higher, the nature of the drink becomes more volatile. The higher rate of evaporation occurring in drinks of greater strength is enough, glass left still, to lift and release the full aromatic spectrum. Swirling will only intensify the perception of alcohol which will, in turn, obscure the more subtle and pleasing aromas of the libation itself. And sniff that after dinner grappa gently, my friend. Wine rewards deep breaths; spirits punish them.

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If you're only going to own one glass...

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The Rieslings of Weingut Ratzenberger

Looking down at the St. Jost vineyard from the small footpath cut into the top of its hillside, perched high above the village of Steeg, it’s amazing to believe that vines can grow there at all, much less that people farm them by hand. Knowing the potential quality of the wines that emanate from the slope, it’s equally hard to believe that some of the owners of parts of this vineyard – and many like it throughout the Northern Rhein, the Nahe and the Saar – have chosen to let their land lie fallow. The work is just too hard. Thankfully, Jochen Ratzenberger perseveres.

Representing the second generation of estate production at Weingut Ratzenberger in the village of Bacharach, Jochen works 25 hectares of vines planted mostly to Riesling along with some Spätburgunder (Pinot Noir) and small quantities of Grauerburgunder (Pinot Gris) and Rivaner (Müller Thurgau). The property is based primarily on three Einzellagen (single vineyards). Posten, which is closest to the river, and Wolfshöhle, next up the valley, both lie above the village of Bacharach. Furthest from the river is St. Jost, spanning a larger elevation range above the tiny town of Steeg. The valley, which runs east-west, perpendicular to the Rhein, provides a perfect and necessary southern exposure to the entire property. In all three sites, slate of varying shades of blue and black – the same stone used for roofing the buildings in town – dominates the soil and provides a tough foothold for man and vine. The wines that Ratzenberger coaxes from these sites are without peer in the commune of Bacharach and can certainly be ranked among the best of the entire Mittelrhein region.

Capping off the better part of a week in the Philadelphia and New York areas, Jochen stopped by the shop yesterday to taste through some of his current releases with me and the rest of the crew. Following are some notes on what we tasted and what we learned along the way.

1. Bacharacher Kloster Furstental Riesling Sekt Brut 2001: Year in and year out, this is one of the most special wines I sell. Made in the Champagne method, including riddling by hand courtesy of Jochen himself, this single vineyard sparkling Riesling spends five years on its lees before disgorgement. Always a clear expression of both site and vintage, it’s a wonderful pairing with oysters and other shellfish and makes a splendid aperitif. The 2001 vintage is drinking wonderfully, crisp, completely dry, showing a very fine mousse and brimming with lightly toasty notes of apple and peach. The Kloster Furstental einzellage is located one valley to the south of Ratzenberger’s primary property. Its soil base is richer in loam than to the north, its rows are more widely spaced and its orientation opens it to the winds blowing along the river. All of these factors combine to make it a dry site with very strong vines, ideal for production of perfectly healthy fruit. Botrytis does not occur here and grapes can hang long on the vine, in some vintages into February. Jochen makes only two wines from the Kloster Furstental – Sekt (from an early picking) and Eiswein.
   
   
2. Bacharacher Riesling Kabinett trocken 2003: Ratzenberger’s village wines, produced only at the Kabinett trocken and QbA levels and labeled simply as Bacharacher with no vineyard designation, come from a cross-section of all three vineyards on the main property, usually dominated by fruit from Wolfshöhle. The warm, dry growing conditions of the 2003 vintage lend a creamier than typical structure to this bottling. The stoniness of all of the estate’s wines is present, soft yet dry, with hints of apricot on the palate. Jochen prefers this wine with fresh water trout caught in the streams near his home. Try it at home with any mild to medium flavored fish.
   
   
3. Steeger St. Jost Riesling Spätlese trocken 2002: Looking back on my notes from a visit to Weingut Ratzenberger in February 2004, we tasted this very wine shortly after bottling. Three years on, it’s developing wonderfully. Spätlesen trocken, late picked wines fermented to total dryness, give a more intense, vinous flavor profile than that found in earlier harvests and lesser degrees of dryness. That vinosity shows itself aromatically, with intense scents of minerals, peach and lime zest and greater body in the mouth. These elements, combined with textures resulting from a higher-acid vintage, make this a great choice for pairing with oilier fish such as salmon or with game birds. The St. Jost vineyard, with its high elevation and soil base of slate, clay and sand, is ideal for this style. The only other wines made there are a Kabinett halbtrocken and a Großes Gewächs.
   
   
4. Steeger St. Jost Riesling Kabinett halbtrocken 2003: The tasting order selected by Jochen surprised me here, as I would have expected to taste this before the Spätlese trocken. No matter, the wine is delicious. Very delicate and gentle, it shows crystal clear flavors of peaches and canned pineapple melded to soft yet refreshing acidity. This is incredibly versatile with lighter foods of all kinds, makes a wonderful aperitif and would hold its own with a wide range of modestly seasoned Asian cuisine.
   
   
5. Bacharacher Posten Riesling Spätlese halbtrocken 2002: Now the order begins to make sense, a clear progression from trocken to halbtrocken and on to sweeter styles. The aromas of this wine are the most intensely mineral yet, showing hints of what many refer to as petrol married to rich tones of apricot and a lush, persistent and lively mouth feel. Full body, lively acidity and a nuance of sweetness make this suitable for pairing with fatty birds and rich sauces. Posten’s proximity to the Rhein and its somewhat sheltered position, both contributing to light morning fog, make it an ideal site for the production of late harvest and botrytis effected styles. From here hail most of the Auslesen, Beerenauslesen and Trockenbeerenauslesen produced by Ratzenberger.
   
   
6. Bacharacher Riesling Kabinett 2003: Not yet for sale, this was tasted from a sample bottle. It reminded me instantly of the 1998 Bacharacher lieblich wines. Soft and broad across the palate, its transparent flavors of white peach and slate, subtle acidity and very low alcohol (8%) make this a classic aperitif style. I’m already looking forward to its availability.
   
   
7. Kloster Furstental Riesling Eiswein 2002: Back to the vineyard where the tasting began, this time with the showstopper. Real, handmade, farm grown Eiswein is a rarity in Germany. Some producers, depending on their vineyard sites, might only produce three or four bottlings per decade. Because of the special characteristics of Kloster Furstental though, Ratzenberger is able to make Eiswein, albeit in tiny quantities, in most years. Sporting 250 grams of residual sugar and 20 grams of acidity, this is pure nectar, unctuous, tooth coating yet still balanced. Subtler aromas but much more intense flavors emerge than in the earlier pickings – lemon and lime oils, kumquat, papaya, passion fruit and orange blossom honey. Its best possible serving scenario is straight up. If you must eat, pair it with a slice of good foie gras. But please, please don’t serve it with sweets; at $135 for a half-bottle, it would be the epitome of waste.

Looking at Jochen, with the flavors and textures of his Eiswein still lingering on my palate, it’s hard to imagine the dedication it takes to produce these wines. Always affable and perpetually relaxed, he tells us of the incredible toils of making his Beeren- and Trockenbeerenauslesen. It takes one person an entire day, selecting one berry at a time, to pick enough to make a single half-bottle. I’ve seen, in person, the guide wires used by Jochen and his picking and pruning crews to hold themselves in place while working the perilously steep hillside vineyards. And I’ve seen the tiny amounts of “topsoil” that must be carried back up the hill and redistributed after hard storms and at the end of the season. I would wonder how he justifies it all – perhaps thinking him mad – if I’d never tried the wines. They are Bacharach-Steeg in a bottle. They make it all worthwhile. Gladly, I think he enjoys them even more than I do.

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