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Archive for August, 2011

This past weekend I played educator for a wine tasting that one of my friends threw for her mother’s 60th birthday. Her mom is a lover of the sweeter wines, so I grabbed a Riesling and a Late Harvest Riesling for them to try. When I got permission to throw in a few dry wines for those of us present who aren’t hugely into the sweet stuff, I tossed a bottle of this into the case so that I could terrify people all present could experience just how versatile a grape Riesling is. (This is my second-favorite dry Riesling. My first favorite is the Peter Lehmann. LOVE IT, people, LOVE THAT WINE.)

Yes, I know the picture makes it difficult to see the bottle. If you’d like to try this, hit the American Riesling section of your local wine store, find the Pacific Rim, and go for the red label. You know, the one that says “Dry” on it. I put this picture up for the wine color rather than the label on the bottle – the wine is a really nice, saturated straw color.

Region: Columbia Valley, WA
Grapes involved: Riesling
Cost: $11-ish
Food pairings: this could be fantastic with some goat cheese or other creamy cheese. Also fish, chicken, pesto, that sort of thing.
Ratings: 88 – Wine Spectator

This is an “I’d like a perfume of this” nose of pineapple, honey, jasmine, apricot, mineral*, peach and passionfruit. The honey note makes it smell like it’s going to be a sweeter wine than it is. Don’t be fooled – there’s a honey scent, but this is emphatically NOT a sweet wine.

In this mouth, this is mineral, tropical fruits - mostly pineapple, passionfruit and a touch of guava - white florals - mostly jasmine, but throw in a bit of honeysuckle and paperwhite as well – as well as hints of apple and lime. Excellent mouthfeel – it’s an odd-but-lovely combination of the sort of sharpness that comes with a fairly high acid level in combination with heavy minerality, put together with a creaminess that tends to come with Pinot Blancs.

This is a good wine, and one that’s flipping fantastic for the price. It’s also a really interesting wine to try if you’ve only every had off-dry to sweeter Rieslings – it’ll give you a sense of everything the grape can actually do without costing you a small fortune.

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*I read a complaint somewhere that “mineral” is a meaningless term, especially for scent, because minerals don’t smell like anything, and it’s doubtful that the wine snobs of the world have all gone running around licking rocks to make sure they know what the taste is. The upshot of the complaint was that “mineral” as a term should be dropped. I disagree wholeheartedly. Rocks have a distinct scent that comes out when they’re wet – the same way that concrete has a distinct smell when it’s been rained on. That scent, and the taste equivalent of that scent, are what I mean when I say anything about minerals. That said, I LOVE RAIN, so I love pretty much anything that goes along with rain. Heavy minerality is the type of thing in a wine that makes me stupid happy.

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Y’all, I have bit of a crush on this wine. A bit of a crush. The superserious bigtime notaschoolgirl CRUSH crush is on this wine’s bigger much pricier sibling (the 8 Songs Shiraz, and even more so the Stonewell). This, however, is still pretty awesome.

And dude. Check the label. Check the poster in the background. Look at the top middle square. DUDE.

Region: Barossa Valley, Australia
Grapes involved: Shiraz*
Cost: $18-ish
Food pairings: LAMB OMG. Or beef. Or chocolate. Or heavy, heavy foods. Or cheddar – like, I had this with mac and cheese and it was pretty much A+ fantastic. I don’t think you could go wrong here, really, unless you didn’t like the food you were pairing with the wine (at which point, you know, get something else).

The wine: It’s a really dark plummy color. The nose is a fantastic concoction of bright blackcurrant and plum, shot through with hints of black pepper, earth, leather and a touch of sage.

The mouthfeel is smooth and velvety, with a mid-range tannin level (probably due to the fact that the bottle has been open for two days as much as anything else – Shiraz tends to have a pretty solid level of tannins, and I think they’ve softened up quite a bit in 48 hours). It’s a super dry wine. The beginning flavors are all plums and blackcurrants with something bright and slightly hot. Then there are hits of white and black pepper (more white than black) and maybe a touch of pink pepper, followed by something warm and earthen. At the swallow, there’s a bright punch of something that reads (albeit very briefly) like tangerine and more pepper, before everything smoothes out into a nice warm plummy finish with a back hint of earth and chocolate.

So. You know. It’s quite nice. Lovely, really.

Quick label info: for an Aussie wine to be labeled with a vintage, at least 95% of the grapes have to be from that vintage. At least 85% of the grapes have to originate in a particular area for the label to include the district. In this particular case, I’m pretty sure all the grapes come from the Barossa – the winemaker was pretty clear on that when he told us the story of how the winery came to be (to sum up: Peter Lehmann worked for someone else (I forget who) who was going to stop buying grapes from a huge group of families. He took it upon himself to start up a winery specifically to make sure those families would still be able to sell their grapes. The winery still buys the same grapes, and they do make pretty fuckamazing wine).** (Thanks be to Kevin Zraly’s Windows on the World Complete Wine Course for all this sort of stuff. I’m learning it, so I’m making you read it).

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*with the recognition that 99.5% of you reading this blog already know this: Shiraz and Syrah are the same grape. Shiraz is Aussie. Syrah is pretty much everywhere else.

**STORY TIME! :D
Roughly three-ish weeks after I started my current job, I ended up at a trade tasting of Peter Lehmann wines at a local steakhouse.+ The winemaker was there. He’s a funny, animated guy who told us all sorts of stuff about each wine, the winery, all that sort of stuff, while a roomful of us listened and slurped happily. Things I learned:
- this winery’s Dry Riesling is one of the best I’ve ever had, and will have a review soonish
- winemakers sign posters of their wine labels, even if begging for the said autograph involves a minor moment of stalking because the poor chap was attempting to sit down to dinner
- in Australia, redheads are called Ginger Ninjas ( <—— read that in an Aussie accent). Or so I was told.

+I know, my life is hard.

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Beers like this are why living near a brewery is the bestest thing ever.

To be specific, I had retired to my pajamas at something like 5:15 or so in the evening because, you know, comfortable. Also tired. I was surfing the internet and had twitter (among other things) up, when I saw a tweet from Free State that the Brewers Choice* was their Saison aged with hibiscus. Being an avowed fan of the only other hibiscus beer I’ve ever tripped over, I was fully clothed and walking to the brewery something like three minutes after I saw the tweet.

Here’s the beer that got me out of pajamas:

For the record, it’s roughly a shade pinker in real life.

Basic Info:
Name:
Brewers Choice (Saison aged with hibiscus flower)
Origin: Free State Brewery, Lawrence, KS
Style: Saison
ABV: no idea
IBU: not very high. Or rather, really low. The pre-aged Saison had an IBU level of 12. This isn’t any higher, but I don’t know that it would have lowered during the aging process either.
I drank this: on tap at the brewery

As I said in the review I linked to above, the original beer was a lovely mess of rosehip and herbs, definitely honeyed, with something of the bananaclove yeasty feel to it. I was pretty big on it given my general dislike of Belgian-style yeasty funk (a typical feature of Saisons).

Aged for a while, the Saison has gained a soft, almost velvety mouthfeel (mouthfeel is one of the best things about aged beers, seriously). The honeyed sort of sweetness has disappeared, as has the yeast flavor, toned down by the aging and by the hibiscus. The hibiscus flavor is lovely and strong enough to be noticeable - it’s somehow reminiscent of a mishmash of tropical fruits and green tea. That said, something about the combination of the yeast with the sort of pineapple/tea flavors of hibiscus combined in a way that made me think of green apple Jolly Ranchers. It’s not that it was a candysweet beer - it was basically off-dry - or that apple was in any way involved. It’s just the thing that popped into my head for a moment, and it made me laugh at myself. So I’m sharing.

So the beer was good and I’m happy I got to have some, even if it did require me putting on real pants. Seriously, this is the best thing about being near a brewery – discovering that they’re tapping something that sounds bloody fascinating, something that will never be bottled or shipped or even still available by the end of the night, and then being able to procure the said beer in under ten minutes. If you’re near enough to a brewery, check to see if/when they tap casks or aged beers or reserves or anything of the sort – it’s a great way to try all sorts of weirdness while seeing just how creative the brewers have gotten.

Plus, you know. Beer. Good beer.

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*The lack of apostrophe is how they did it (at least on twitter), so I’m following their grammar. It is making me twitch, I have to admit.

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Dude. Label. PRETTY.*

Region: California
Grapes involved: blend of Zinfandel, Merlot and Syrah.
Cost: $10 or so
Food pairings: PORK DAMMIT (because Zin and pig-related products of all kinds are a magical pairing I AM NOT KIDDING YOU), but it’s pretty easy drinking, so you could go with whatever.

So I’ve never attempted to review a blend here before, largely because I figured I’d never be able to get anywhere with “this grape is doing x, while this grape does y” and so forth. I’m not sure I’m totally there with all grapes, but I *am* pretty sure I’m good with Zin and Syrah. Ergo, anything that I don’t think is Zin or Syrah is something that I’ll blame on the Merlot.

Er, maybe not blame. Merlot is kind of awesome sometimes. Like, supergood lush feeling in the mouth.

Anyway. It should be noted that this bottle got opened up sometime yesterday morning-ish, and that I’m reviewing it something like 36 hours post-open. It has had a solid chance to breathe/aerate/soften/get on with it – this is a smoother wine than it was yesterday early afternoon when I finally busted into it to try it – the pepper and tannins were stronger at that point. That said, here’s where we are now:

Nose: the wine smells like cherry, red raspberry, strawberry, caramel, a hint of alcohol and a touch of pepper.

Taste: Lots of superfruity berries – like, if anyone says that a wine is “fruit forward,” this wine is an example of exactly what that means. It was in the jammy category yesterday, but it’s almost gone to sugared wildberry cake at this point – like, the longer it’s been opened, the sweeter it’s gotten. That said, it’s not a sweet wine by any means, it’s just that the fruit flavors are dominant. The Merlot seems to show up right at the beginning in a soft, rich sort of purple fruit that disappears into the pinker/redder fruit of the Zin. After that, there’s some caramel (which definitely comes from the Zinfandel, as does much of the fruitiness) and a bit of pepper (usually a dead giveaway that Syrah is involved).

This wine is fairly low in tannins, rich in mouthfeel (this is the Merlot!), but still fairly light-bodied. It’s one of those wines designed to make for super-easy drinking.

Upshot: Zin=jammy/fruity/bits of briar/some of the caramel (the briar didn’t really pick up here); Merlot=lush mouthfeel, Syrah=black pepper/dark fruit.

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* a)I like leaf patterns. Like, it’s a thing with me.
   b)I do not, however, buy wine based on flipping labels, because I do not shop for booze/drink like “a woman.”** I’m actually reviewing this because I’ve been out selling it this week and wanted to run through what I thought the grapes were doing to make this wine what it is.

**Apparently in the minds of marketers, women only buy alcohol because the label is pretty. GAG ME. And DO NOT get me started on motherflipping CHICK BEER. KIMSMASH, Y’ALL.

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2009 Chilensis Carmenère Reserva

Alright, people. I find myself in need of learning wine quickly. And I’d like my wine knowledge to be at my beer-level knowledge ASAP. If y’all* find yourself bored with the wine posts and would like to see more beer (or cider – there’s going to be a Crispin post soon), shout at me. Otherwise, we’ll probably have rather more wine than beer posts here for a while. The wine posts, in turn, may end up going super dorky and referencing various wine books I’m working my way through.

That said, this is a Carmenère that I tried yesterday after having heard about it approximately five different times during an eight-hour wine meeting last Friday:

 

Region: Maule – Estate bottled (see next note)
Grapes involved: Carmenère - at least 85%. Chilean wine must have 85% of a particular type of grape in order to include that info on the label. Ditto grapes from a particular region or estate. So sayeth Kevin Zraly’s Windows of the World Complete Wine Course, which I’m reading like a bedtime story right now.
Cost: $12.00 or so
Food pairings: I’d say something in the meat department. Or something grilled. Or a combination thereof.

So. Corks from Chilean wine bottles are near-impossible to get out of the bottle. Or I’ve just had a run of difficult luck lately – this cork didn’t break off, but it took legit forearm strength to remove it. Like, it was almost sticky.

Or my arms were sore from pouring wine all night at the KC Food and Wine Fest. That could also be part of the problem.

Anyway.

The nose is chocolate and earth with a touch of leather rolling over lots of sort of purplepink berry-type scents (so… let’s go with brambleberry or something not-quite existent like that)(or Marionberries (is that one word or two?), which I’ve never had because I’ve (sadly) never been to Oregon). It’s rich and soft, with a deep dark red color.

The flavor is a softer berry-cherry flavor, covered in chocolate, touched with hints of something like orange peel, clove, rose petal, bits of of spicy carnation, earth, and something slightly green. The tannin level is really soft, and it’s not a particularly acidic wine. For a red, it’s one of the smoother wines I’ve ever had.

The label tells me it tastes like “cherry, plum, vanilla and green pepper.” I think the label is nuts – I can kind of see vanilla (I think that’s where I’m coming up with more of a milk chocolate flavor - I’m probably just coming up with a different reading for the oak), and I can definitely see cherry and plum. The green pepper, however… no. Green pepper is a common note in a lot of Chilean wines (or so I learned during the aforementioned eight-hour wine meeting) - it’s a flavor that has a tendency to pop up when the grapes have been harvested early, and it’s one that’s also apparently popular down there (I noticed it in this Chilean Sauv Blanc). Anyway, I didn’t pick it up in this wine.

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*weird thing: I never actually *say* the word “y’all,” but it does seem to appear frequently when I’m writing posts.

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Welcome back, as it were

My apologies for the extended and accidental blogging break. Between sampling at work, an East Coast vacation (read: I MISS PENNSYLVANIA BEER!!!!!) and my normal drinking activities, I’ve got more material to write than I know what to do with. I also have had significantly less time and mental energy than I’m used to having, due to a combination of working my ass off and trying not to die in a ridiculously hot summer. Add in moving to Lawrence, KS* (THE BEST TOWN EVER – I WILL THROW DOWN ON THIS IF YOU DISAGREE) and, well, month-long blog break.

That said, I need to turn more of my energies into blogging me some wine reviews, so look for those to come up with rather more frequency than they had been over the past few months (along with rather more frequent reviews of any kind than we’ve seen in the past few months). If there’s anything you’d like to see reviewed, comment away and let me know. I’ll try pretty much anything I can find in my backwards, weird little state.

I hope you people have all been doing well and enjoying your booze. I hope to see quite a bit more of you.

*bonus here: I’m now blocks – BLOCKS – away from Free State Brewery. :D

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In the category of “why the hell had it been three years since the last time I’d had one of these” beers:

Basic Info:
Name:
Hop Ottin’ IPA
Origin: Anderson Valley Brewing Company, Boonville, CA
Style: IPA
ABV: 7.0%
IBU: 80
I drank this: from a CAN, y’all, at a friend’s backyard BBQ

Yes, a can. I have no pictures because I was too busy enjoying the beer to bother digging out my phone, but it’s a pretty purple-and-blue affair of a can, and the beer inside of it is SCRUMPTIOUS.

Seriously, people, this beer has one of the creamiest mouthfeels of any IPA I’ve ever tried. It’s glorious, like drinking silk, or melted ice cream.

The head foams up out of the mouth of the can just enough to let you know it’s there but without spilling over the side and getting all messy. I’m thankful for this, because it’s about the only way to smell the beer. This is the only problem I have with canned beer: actually getting a sniff of what I’m drinking is not. easy. Sniffing the head, however, when I could get to it, was a hit of bergamot and sweet orange along with a touch of pine needles running over a base of caramelly-rich malts.

Flavor-wise, it’s a precision balancing act between the malts and the hops, which is flipping impressive given the IBU level. The malts are rich and slightly sweet, all caramel and brown bread. The hops are serious business West Coast-style hops: they’re a massive citrus bomb, mostly grapefruit and orange, but rounded out with bits of everything from pine and fir to grass to a touch of flowers (mostly rose petals to my palate). The finish is smooth and easy, meaning that even with 80 IBUs, my food still tasted the way it was supposed to (and not, you know, like raisins).

The thing with the can is that I think it’s actually a pretty good way to go about packaging beer*: there’s no ability for sunlight to get in and skunk things up, and as long as you drink it within a few months, you won’t run into any kind of metallic taste. The biggest issue with canned beer is, so far as I can tell, the macroswill associations that beer cans inevitably carry with them – i.e., any beer in a can must be crap. I’m here to tell you to dump that mindset (if you haven’t already): canned beer can be good. Really good. Really amazingly lovely, even.  And you can take it with you to all the places that bottles aren’t welcomed.

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*I know it’s a little late in the season to get on the high and mighty DRINK THE CANNED CRAFT BEER horse, but this summer has been absolute madness. Hopefully I’ll get into other things – like, say, Octoberfests – in a more timely fashion.

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