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Cycling the Tour de France has been likened to running 20 marathons in 20 days. I?m pretty sure I couldn?t run one marathon in 20 days.
Yet there I was, under the blistering sun of Provence, slowly pedaling my way up one of the most dreaded, soul-crushing climbs of last year?s Tour: Mont Ventoux. What lured me to that beast of a hill was a longing to do more than just watch the Tour de France. I wanted to experience the Tour de France. I yearned to ride the very roads that, just hours later, would be chewed up by Lance Armstrong, Laurent Jalabert and Joseba Beloki. I wanted to white-knuckle it down the same hairpin turns, and be cheered on by the giddy spectators who?d camped out for days, waiting for that colorful tsunami of Spandex to speed by. Basically, I hungered for a taste of what the world?s most grueling sporting event really felt like.
That?s what landed me, my husband and 13 others on a Tour de France cycling trip with Backroads, an adventure travel company. The plan was to follow the last third of the three-week race as the riders whizzed their way past the lavender fields of Provence, up the mythical Alps and down the cobblestoned Champs-Elysées in Paris. Along the way, we?d stay in four-star hotels, consume obscene amounts of French fare and work off those calories by cycling 40 to 60 miles a day (except during the trip?s three rest days). We?d get to bike some of the most memorable segments of Tour de France routes. We?d also tackle short sections of last year?s course, a torturous 2,032-mile journey.
?How hard can this be?? I naively wondered as I sat on my couch, lazily thumbing through a Backroads catalog. ?It?s not like we?re doing the whole Tour. Just part of it.?
But that ?part? happened to be the part with the mountains. Big, colossal, mammoth mountains.
Even so, I saw this as a once-in-a-lifetime experience. If the prognosticators were right, I?d be witnessing Lance Armstrong pedal his way into the history books, becoming the first American ever to win six Tours. I?d be right there, literally, on Armstrong?s road to victory. Mountains, shmountains, I reassured myself. I?m 34 years old; I take spinning classes. I?ll be just as good as anyone else on the Backroads trip.
I knew I miscalculated that last part as soon as I got a glimpse of the other Backroads travelers. Most of the men?s legs were shaved closer than mine. This meant there was either a disproportionate number of transvestites on the trip, or these were some serious cyclists. It turned out to be the latter, which meant my husband and I were destined to play the role of lanterne rouge, the red lantern that hangs from the back of a train. It?s Tour-speak for ?the slowpokes.?
But unlike the Tour, this was a vacation, not a competition. At least that?s what I kept telling myself as I crawled up Mont Ventoux, which I think is French for ?makes you curl up in a ball and cry for Mommy.? The 6,273-foot mountain juts out of the Provençal landscape like a giant tumor; and this tumor is anything but benign. Comedian and cycling aficionado Robin Williams summed it up this way: ?Even the mountain goats don?t like it.?
Ventoux is a relentlessly steep 13-mile climb to the barren, lunar-like summit, where exhausted British cyclist Tom Simpson keeled over and died during the 1967 Tour. As I started to wonder if the same fate might await me, a burly Frenchman with a moustache as big as my handlebars decided I needed a little pep talk.
?Allez! Allez!? he repeatedly shouted in my ear as I crept up the mountain in granny gear. My French friend was telling me to ?Go! Go!? which was what I wished he would do, since sweat was stinging my eyes, my legs felt like the beleaguered stage during ?Riverdance? and the last thing I wanted was a hairy cheerleader.
But his words pushed me on, if only to put a little more distance between me and his Burgundy-infused breath.
I?d hear the ?Allez! Allez!? refrain countless more times from the throngs of onlookers who?d staked out their spot on the mountain, waiting for the Tour to wheel by in a few hours. Folks like me were merely the warm-up act.
We all know the French are very good at some things (food) and not so good at others (war). But they?re extremely adept at the high art of tailgating. When they weren?t rooting on amateur cyclists like me, they killed time by sipping wine, nibbling on brie and baguettes, playing cards and painting riders? names on the street.
At my heady speed of 4 mph, I had ample time to witness all of these pre-race festivities. It became clear that, to the French, the Tour is much more than a sporting event. It, like Jerry Lewis, is a cultural phenomenon. Unlike Jerry, it?s easy to understand the Tour?s appeal. This is a race packed with more drama than a Jerry Springer show, and with at least as much potential for bloodshed. Catastrophic crashes. Drug raids. Cheating. Smack talking. Not to mention jaw-dropping displays of athleticism. It?s hard to imagine just how much pain these guys put themselves through until you?ve sampled some of it firsthand.
Mont Ventoux is a kick-in-the-teeth climb, even when you?re cycling it with fresh legs like we were. But the Tour racers had logged 120 miles that day before broaching the base of Ventoux. And they still managed to go up it faster than I went down it. How?s that for an ego-deflater?
It truly is a humbling experience to watch more than 150 Tour riders sail up the very road you just cycled. They make it look so easy. But your burning quads and aching back remind you that it?s not.
I thought cycling Ventoux would leave me too exhausted to cheer on the racers. But one glimpse of that Texan wearing the coveted yellow leader?s jersey had the effect of a dozen espressos. There he was. Lance Armstrong ? cancer survivor, cyclist extraordinaire ? about an arm?s length away from me, plowing up the very mountain that made my legs feel like overcooked fettuccine. Despite being chased by a pack of cyclists who wanted nothing more than to strip that golden jersey off his back and feed it to him in tiny pieces, he looked more serene than I do in a bubble bath.
Other racers gulped oxygen like frat boys chug beer. But Armstrong seemed to be barely breathing while he pumped his pedals like pistons. I knew I was watching an über-athlete in action. I had a front row seat at the Tour de Lance, and I?d earned it. At the top of my overworked lungs, I shouted the words I?d once heard from a wise, mustachioed Frenchman: ?Allez! Allez!?
September 14th, 2007 is the Great Canadian Head Shave organized by the Terry Fox Foundation. In order to help raise awareness and much-needed funds for cancer research, Tidings editor-in-chief, Aldo Parise has decided to do his part. He will be...
Many people would be able to identify a bottle of wine that was truly faulty and, in a restaurant, ask for a replacement. But would you be able to tell what the fault was or what to blame for it? It is all to do with perception threshold. Different faults require different parts per thousand or even million to be perceived.
Some people are more sensitive to certain faults than others so while the host, who may taste the wine as it is brought to the table, is happily quaffing, one or more guests could be secretively retching into their napkins. Depending on how well you know your host and judging, diplomatically, how much of an ego dent your comments could produce, it might be worth discreetly asking people to have another careful sniff.
At a wine faults workshop this week, it was made clear that a fault is only a fault if the people drinking the wine consider it to be. For example the "fault" brett - produced from brettanomyces yeast acting on the phenolic acids of the grape - is a characteristic that some tasters love and some winemakers deliberately introduce. It can produce strong animal characteristics that enhance a wine's complexity and increases some people's pleasure.
Of course it is very important to get the balance right because the smallest increase tips a wine over from animal (yum) to bretty (yuck). And even in the lower doses some people adore the fragrant pong while others will recoil in horror at the filthy stench. Perception is all.
Then there is actual corkiness. Produced by TCA, TBA and TeCA it has various origins like the high levels of chlorine used to clean the winery and equipment, the breakdown of other cleaning agents by funghi in the winery - low ventilation and high humidity contibuting to high levels in the atmosphere.
The cork industry is keen to point out that it is not something inherently present in the corks more of a contamination at the winery. The plastic in alternative closure linings etc are equally susceptible to this contamination. With increased awareness, far higher standards of hygiene than ever before and alternative cleaning solutions available the problem should be getting better. However despite some high profile cases in California back in 2004, there are still many wineries taking the easy option and continuing bad practices.
At the other end is a sulfide problem that produces a tomato, truffle, cabbage, rubber character. This is reduction, the opposite of oxidation and the result of a complete seal which prevents any movement of oxygen into the wine. Unlike oxidation though, this can be corrected sometimes as simply as swirling the wine in the glass or decanting the bottle thereby allowing some air contact and dissipating the bad aromas.
This problem has been most associated with screwcaps which provide such an affective seal that all the positive benefits of cork permeability have been lost alongside the problems that can occur for freshness through excessive permeability.
New Zealand wineries have famously chosen to address this by slightly oxidising the wine before bottling in order to achieve balance once the wine is in bottle. As is often the case with the New World, they are quick to respond to problems and criticism.
However this is a dangerous and nervy solution and not always successful. Pascal Chatonnet, leading faults scientist, oenologist and consultant to wineries all over the world, argues that some of the essential character and originality is lost through this process and the overall quality and elegance is compromised, though this is not necessarily understood by the consumer as the original wine is not available to compare.
What is important to the cork industry is that while a consumer might recognise the wine is faulty, the only real language employed to describe or attribute the fault invokes cork. This is of major concern and is where the charm offensive needs to conentrate, for cork may not have played any part whatsoever.
For consumers the challenge to the industry as a whole is to find a closure with the correct level of permeability and which is kept free of contamination. It is in everybody's interests and with a more frank discussion opening up we can only hope that solutions won't be too far away.
Regular readers of Winewaves have noticed the slowing pace of new pieces in 2007. For the first 2 years I tried to keep a daily pace of providing new pictures and reviews here. Winewaves began in February of 2005, but it's over. At least for now.
Like many other well-intentioned bloggers, I simply cannot afford to provide the quality of content that I would like to. Other paying work occupies my time. The opportunity cost of the effort I've invested in Winewaves has been great and the benefits have been scarce. My balance sheet unfortunately fits on a Post-It note. Being that I don't have deep pockets, something had to give.
Thank you to those who tuned in, found themselves checking out Winewaves, and especially to those who have sent me supportive e-mails over the past 3 years.
And go figure. No other wine created the stir that Bitch Barossa Grenache has over the last 3 years. For all those who are looking for it, I DON'T KNOW where you can find it. Which brings to my mind a pet peeve. When there is an ocean of Grenache (or at least red wine) in Australia, and when so many people are looking for "Bitch" in America, and when the people who want it are not expecting the highest standard of gustatory excellence, why don't they bottle more of it? What's wrong with giving the people what they want?
Of all the lessons learned from Winewaves, the foremost one is that I wish I could be selling wine. That's because most people who have come here thought that was the point of the site. It's so frustrating that Tennessee state laws prevent a would-be entrepreneur like myself to add value to a marketplace. Most people don't see the value of great wine label pictures, except as a way of merchandising, which I am prohibited from doing. At least for now.
Lastly, if anyone has any ideas as to how to revive Winewaves, I'm all ears.
I can remember a time when the word "Alsace" only brought to mind dim memories of my 5th grade class discussion on some valley that people were fighting about in one of those big wars. In those days I definitely couldn't spell Gewurztraminer, and I had only tried one or two of them.
Perhaps you'd call me a late bloomer when it came to Alsatian wine, but bloom I eventually did, and now I'm a quiet, but fierce devotee of what I believe to be some of the most individualistic wines on the planet. Alsace has always been an odd duck of a winegrowing region. It is the only region in France that not only allows, but mandates that the name of the grape variety appear on the label (though there are exceptions). It happens to grow grapes more associated with Germany and Northern Italy than with the rest of France (Riesling, Gewurztraminer, and Pinot Gris), and perhaps by virtue of its occasionally Germanic past, produces more beer than any other winegrowing region in the country.
Characterized by steep hillside vineyards whose sun exposure, coupled with the region's cooler climate make for long slow grape maturation, Alsace has been worked by small village winemakers for centuries (major regional wars notwithstanding). There are thousands of producers in the region, though according to the Oxford Companion to Wine, about 175 of those producers make up nearly 80 percent of the regions production. Many of those 175 are still relatively small by French standards, but some, due to their tenure as well as success have grown to be significant producers that make enough wine for export all over the globe.
Trimbach (or more properly, Maison Trimbach) is perhaps one of the best known of these larger producers, and for good reason. The Trimbach family has been making wine under their name since progenitor Jean Trimbach founded the house label in 1636. Twelve generations later, the estate is still run by the family, and is synonymous with the region, producing what some consider to be the finest wines around.
For the first two hundred or so years, Trimbach wines were made, like many in the region, in relative obscurity. Produced and consumed all within a 25 mile radius, the wines were part of the fabric of village life. Around the turn of the 20th Century, however, the then proprietor Frederic Emile Trimbach submitted the family's wines to be shown at the 1897 Brussels Exposition, where they were apparently greeted with significant acclaim.
Now, nearly 120 years after that initial success, Trimbach is known for producing two of the region's finest wines -- both Rieslings. One is bottled under the name Clos St. Hune, and comes from the Grand Cru Rosacker vineyard, and is widely regarded as the region's best Riesling. The other is this wine, named after the enterprising Frederic Emile, whose marketing skills launched more than a century of prominence for his family winery. In addition to these top wines, Trimbach makes 13 other wines, in quantities ranging from a couple thousand cases to the tens of thousands.
Cuvee Frederic Emile is made mostly from grapes grown on a south-southeast facing hillside vineyard named Osterberg above the winery. The limestone rich soil of this Grand Cru vineyard drains quickly and deep, and the grapevines are, on average, 30 years old. The grapes are picked with painstaking deliberation into small shoulder baskets over a series of days, with the goal of selecting only fully ripe clusters of grapes. These clusters are destemmed and assiduously sorted, again to ensure only the choicest grapes are crushed and fermented, ever so slowly, with native yeasts.
I'm not sure about the total production of this wine. The Clos St. Hune is less than 600 cases, but I suspect Cuvee Frederic Emile is made in slightly larger quantities. Were it more plentiful, however, it might be more common to find beautiful aged bottles like this one that some good friends shared with me last month. Trimbach's wines, especially their top cuvees, seem to age forever, and as they do, their personalities begin to truly shine.
Every time I enjoy Rieslings from the Old World like this one, I realize that I don't drink enough Riesling. Every time I enjoy such a beautiful Alsatian wine, I am reminded that I definitely don't drink enough of Alsace.
Tasting Notes: Pale gold in the glass, this wine has a shockingly bright nose of quince and honey that begs to be inhaled slowly, as if that were physically possible. On the tongue it is halogen bright, with gorgeous acidity that brings to life a swath of flavors ranging from fresh lemon juice and honey to paraffin and nut skin. The wine lasts forever in the mouth, lingering through its drawn out finish on vapors of pomelo and orange zest. A fantastic, distinctive wine.
Food Pairing: Whatever you eat with this wine, make sure it's damn good. I drank this on my birthday last month and enjoyed it with many things, but especially with a light cooked shellfish salad of crab, squid, octopus, and clams in an "ocean vinaigrette" with seasoned sesame.
Overall Score: between 9.5 and 10
How Much?: roughly $110 - $190 these days. Current releases (2003) go for $35.
This is a monster. Powerful nose, powerful palate and powerful dark ruby colour. Which I like at times but something is not quite in balance here. There is a pungent, smoky quality that is burning my senses and I'm picking up too much sulpher which I believe I'm sensitive to. Some black fruit coming through, nice firm tannins and a bitter finish.
Perhaps this is evidence that noting the vintage of a wine is incredibly important when choosing your wine - because the 2006 does not shine for me and I would probably only give it 2 or 3 stars at a push. It's a bomb and after half a glass I was ready to move on.
I’m racking 2007 Sauvignon Blanc from barrels now. In these photos, you can see the clean wine that I’m racking from the lees, and then the lees being poured from the barrel into a bucket. 50% of this wine was fermented in old french oak barrels and the other half was fermented in tank. I can take and post all the photos I want of this process, but it’s hard to convey the aromas that fill the winery at this time. This is one of the most hedonistic times, at least for me.
The lees are the dregs, the “bottom of the barrel”, and largely viewed as waste but in a winery they can be useful and wonderful. Lees is composed of grape solids, yeast bodies, nutrients, bacteria that have settled out of the wine during aging, but it is also a way to “diagnose” or ascertain the condition of the wine itself. Sweet, clean, ethereally aromatic lees is the sign of healthy grapes, a good fermentation, a clean wine.
I do this process myself because I want to make sure we get a very clean wine from this racking as it will not be filtered. So, all of the barrels are “racked in place”, ie, the barrels are not moved or disturbed until racking. That’s a rule for all of the wines we produce here, but it is particularly critical with the Sauvignon Blanc as it is packaged in a clear bottle!! I will probably fine it with a little bentonite to make sure it settles out as much as possible before bottling.
How many times have you bought a wine based on a promotional price? Or bought multiple wines you didn’t really want because of a three for two type offer? We may be all falling for “artificial promotions” that are anything but a good deal.
There are some good quotes in the article from wine industry insiders confirming that what have long been speculated to be dubious “offers” are exactly that and give no real value to the wine drinker at all.
"In most films, the cast is comprised of seasoned actors who possess a vibrant screen presence and innate ability to charm the audience. But for a handful of movies in which wine itself plays a major role, we might as well add "mouthwatering" to the list of qualities a cast may claim. Encompassing major motion pictures, documentaries and even a mockumentary, our list of top films for wine lovers covers lots of territory - affording viewers plenty to digest when it comes to wine and the silver screen..."
List includes
Sideways * Mondovino * From Ground to Glass * French Kiss * A Good Year * Corked * A Walk In the Clouds * Bottle Shock * The First Emporer * The Jefferson Bottles
I recently made a few Beaujolais suggestions here. It appears from the ‘complaint’ below, that rather than recover their position and take a forward-looking view, they would rather wither and die… Jean-Paul Brun’s Beautiful 2007 Beaujolais l’Ancienne Denied the AOC Beaujolais! Can you imagine the stupidity! “Jean-Paul Brun just learned that 5,222 cases of Beaujolais [...]
We're speeding up the narrow two-lane road to Montalcino in Yoshi's somewhat dilapidated Datsun. After a great weekend in Siena, where I experienced a mild art glut, I was anticipating a few days in a quieter setting. Luckily I had met Yoshi four years ago during language school in Italy. After I went home, he kept hanging out and never went back to Japan. Being a confessed Italophile and vinophile, he studied Italian wine and ended up as the head wine guy at Banfi Castle in Montalcino. Now Yoshi lives and "works" in an Italian castle drinking some of Italy's most celebrated wine. Tough.
Luckily I don't suffer from nausea, so the semi-suicidal 2,000-foot climb to Montalcino rewards me with stunning views of Tuscany's grandeur. "That's where I live," Yoshi mentions casually with just a hint of pride. I follow his gaze up the mountain to the rustic hamlet now barely visible behind its wall. A few church towers rise above the crowded maze of tenant buildings. A woman opens the red shutters of her rustic apartment. March in Montalcino is a long, lingering month. With that in mind, I feel the urge to kill Yoshi and steal his job and life when I'm suddenly quelled by some amalgamate image from childhood: the Italian equivalent of Julie Andrews running down a green, mountain pasture, arms aflight, Ave Maria wafting in the background. I relax and enjoy the scenery with only mild pangs of jealousy.
We're in southern Tuscany -- the place Adam and Eve had to leave after Eve bit into that ripe sangiovese grape. Here, there's no shortage of excruciatingly quaint hilltop towns; no problem making you feel like writing home to say, "Sell everything. Never returning." Southern Tuscany is wine country, is Italy, is civilization at its very best. And if southern Tuscany is all that, Montalcino (Moan-tall-chino) is the capital in my eyes -- what most Americans must envision when they think of Italy. Picture the medieval burg clinging to its pinnacle, the serpentine cobblestone streets and squat grandmothers who negotiate them. Churchbells can be heard from anywhere in the city. Good wine is a given. Here, the pace is slower, the olive oil greener, and the entire town seems to reek of the perfection of daily life.
"There's not much to do in Montalcino," Yoshi says. But he says it in such a way that leaves me thinking "nothing to do" in Montalcino is most definitely a good thing. Here, hours are stretched free of charge. Wineglasses swell with content, and like the mythic Hydra, dishes of savory pasta seem to regenerate threefold every bite you take. There are no teenybopper discotheques, no cheesy trinket venders peddling their weary wares on the streets. Not even the Let's Go and Rick Steves backpacker hordes find their way up the mountain (often), as it's a bit difficult to reach. No train braves the perilous climb up to Montalcino's summit. Without a car, you're better off taking the one-hour bus ride from Siena.
Once at Montalcino, you're greeted by a perfectly preserved medieval hamlet. Start with a walk to the far end of the city where the fortress, or Rocca, lies. Familiarize yourself with the one main street. This requires little effort and will also let you kick off your stay in Montalcino at its Rocca. Walk the grounds, take a stroll along the catwalks, or cruise inside the turrets. And though the views from just about anywhere in Montalcino are truly inspiring, those from atop the Rocca feel somehow even more regal. Plan secret attacks on neighboring villages, wax philosophic, or just suck in the mountain air.
Although constructed in the 14th century, the Rocca has been "modernized" inside with the addition of its own wine bar, or enoteca -- arguably the first Italian term you should memorize. These blessed creatures, these enoteche, curiously absent (or at least endangered in America) thrive in Montalcino. And enoteche make me very happy. This particular one allows you to sample not only some of Italy's finest wines ($1.50 to $5 a glass) but also local meats and cheeses, like the indigenous wild boar sausage and the smooth Pecorino cheese.
Someone dead and famous once said, "To truly appreciate someplace, go there poor." That sums up my travel philosophy as much in principle as out of necessity. And while northern Italy is no budget traveler's dream, we will endure. Believe me, you'll feel better spending money on a truly memorable Tuscan experience -- like a few glasses of wine in the Rocca -- than you will getting your caricature taken outside the Duomo in Florence for triple the price.
If you're looking for something a little less, well, fortress-like and expensive, check out Enoteca Franci, one of Yoshi's hangouts. You'll find it in the main piazza to the side of the clock tower on Via Mazzini. Enoteca Franci is the Cheers of the city, attracting every living inhabitant in Montalcino, young and old, hip and otherwise. During sunny days, get a bottle of great Montalcino wine, sip a cappuccino or snack on some rustic salami and Parmigiano cheese. At night, the atmosphere is right out of a Hemingway novel: red vinyl benches; mirrors; chandeliers; and a dark, cavernous back room full of wines to choose from or to ogle, or both. Sound expensive and chic? Nah. Plus you get the whole "ex-patriot, grainy black-and-white" feeling to boot.
And there's plenty of great wine to go around. First and foremost, the top wine, the black rooster of the town: Brunello di Montalcino. Actually, its reputation doesn't just apply to Montalcino, Tuscany or even Italy. In the world of wine, Brunello is a big boy. A strain of the more familiar sangiovese grape of Chianti, Brunello (so named because of its brownish hue) is responsible for Italy's finest red wine alongside Barolo. With a minimum aging of four years -- six months of which must be in bottle -- Brunello is a dark, dry, potent wine that goes with anything it wants. For that reason, it's, well, a bit expensive. A bottle will start around $20 and run as far as your credit card can. And further. And faster. Keep in mind, though, that the same wine in America -- provided you can even find it -- costs much more. From the little investigating I've done, you're looking at around a $10 to $15 price hike in America on Brunello. In addition, you have the usually insane "dock fees" or whatever American restaurants call their premiums. Translation: if you feel like doing it up in Montalcino, Brunello is the one.
But I have good news for those who don't want to mortgage their mothers for wine: Rosso di Montalcino. This wine is made from the same sangiovese strain. In many respects, it's the same wine, the only difference is the aging time and price tag. And sure, I could probably tell the difference between Brunello and Rosso. But I can also tell the difference between a Mercedes and a Honda. And which is better for the money? Rosso starts at $5 and runs to about $10 for the top producers. Don't sweat these big names, though. Every bottle I had was a lesson in how to enjoy life. And if you're not a total wine geek, Rosso, in most cases, is a much better choice than the far pricier Brunello.
The more established wineries in Montalcino excel in most all the varietals, though. Apart from the slew of red wines, you can peruse anything in white from sauvignon blanc to the syrupy sweet moscato. In short, Montalcino is a wine town. You merely need to visit Enoteca Franci or any one of the some thirty million bars or enoteche (or so it seems, as potential wine pit stops appear with blissful regularity). And when drinking wine in Montalcino remember: being snobbish with wine doesn't come naturally to Italians. Wine is their mass consumption, normal beverage which, for most Italians, still comes in a water glass. As such, wine drinking seems a touch more genuine, more enjoyable. No pedantic rigamarole, just good wine and, of greater importance, kind, witty people.
If you're itching to taste the proverbial "fruit of the vine" and want to experience what really put Montalcino on the map, go to the tourist office and get a bus schedule for the wineries themselves. They're located outside the city, it takes a vehicle, a Japanese friend with a vehicle, a bus, a taxi or a long thumb to get there. For a taste of the original Brunello, head toward Biondi Santi. Clemente Santi was responsible for isolating the Brunello strain of the sangiovese grape in the last century. Since then, Biondi Santi has claimed awards around the world for its Brunello. Good for them. Also good for us -- if we want to spend around $40 a bottle. Prices and standards are high. However, if you're a Brunello freak, or plan on becoming one, this wine is a "must taste;" and the winery, a connoisseur's "must see."
I also highly recommend Banfi: one of the most established yet progressive wineries in Montalcino. You can enjoy the views from the tasting room, the Banfi Villa, the Banfi Castle and, most importantly, slurp some vino with Yoshi. (Tell him I sent you. Heck, it might be good for some perks.) You can even eat at the winery, if you want to drop some major cash and really impress your significant other. However, any type of winery experience is possible. Montalcino has everything from space age, stainless steel producers, to old school brothers with unpronounceable names.
Just about any type of winery experience is possible, though. Montalcino has everything from space age, stainless steel producers to old-school brothers with unpronounceable names. The smaller estate of Campogiovanni, for example, doesn't have the esteemed reputation and, therefore, must make quality wine at the lowest cost possible. Although owned by the larger San Felice, Campogiovanni is fighting to make a name for itself in the highly traditional ground of Montalcino And in this category, there's a plethora of great wineries ready to sell you on wine before non-existent, or at best, respectively small, reputations. Apart from Campogiovanni, definitely try Marchesato degli Aleramici, Col d'Orcia, Castelgiocondo, Mastroianni and la Poderina. Brunello from these producers usually runs in the $18 to $30 range; Rosso from $6 to $10. Though their wines are easy to acquire, information on most of these wineries is scarce. Check with the tourist office, or call directly upon arriving.
"But we must eat," you say. "We can't live on wine alone." Sadly, this is true. Have no fear, though. If the Montalcinese know anything beside wine, they know food. And the question is not where or what to eat, but how to sample everything without breaking your budget or your new Italian leather belt. Yoshi and I checked out his favorite place, Osteria di Porta al Cassero. From the street it may not seem like much. The actual surroundings are quite simple and unpretentious -- my favorite style. But the smell alone is enough to merit a try. I almost floated in on a wave of heavenly aromas a la Tom and Jerry. Definitely try anything with wild boar, usually prepared as a stew or ragù. And if tripe is your game, it's also the specialty. Yoshi partook. I did not. If you're like me, check out Pici -- thick, worm-like spaghetti -- or Pappardelle -- big ribbons. Both are traditionally served with one of many rustic treats from meat lover's heaven and come almost attached to a bottle of Montalcino vino.
For espresso, cappuccino and every derivative thereof, stop by Bar Mariuccia, sort of across from Enoteca Franci. I never asked, but the elderly couple who slings the java must be the Mariuccias. A real mom-and-pop operation complete with sweets from another Mariuccia who runs a pastry shop and rents rooms down the road. Stunning views of the countryside await in the backroom of the bar. There is no charge to sit down or be waited on as there is in the bars of some of the more touristy hilltop towns.
Now you're beat. You pounded out the last drop of your Brunello and went for the after-dinner grappa. Feeling oh so Italian, you even stopped for the late-night espresso. Where to stay? Hotels are scarce and expensive, but fortunately rooms abound. While taking your non-goal-oriented strolls, you probably saw signs here and there saying: "camere/zimmer/rooms." These could be anything from private rooms inside family houses to quasi-condos.
The best I found was a place called Il Moro. Also located on Via Mazzini but away from the main piazza, Il Moro is attached to the trattoria of the same name. There are four double rooms, beautifully refinished with wooden interiors, superb views and a combined kitchen/dining room/sitting room downstairs. I was there in March, and my girlfriend and I had the whole swanky place to ourselves. A room will run you about $40 a night, but it increases to $60 from Easter to the festival month of June. Well worth it, even if you have to bend, twist or otherwise alter your budget. If Il Moro doesn't turn your crank, check with the Mariuccia family or the tourist office by the main piazza for listings. Otherwise, take another leisurely stroll around the city inquiring about prices when you see the sign "camere/zimmer/rooms." Nothing could give you a better feel for Montalcino and its inhabitants.
More rustic getaways are also possible. If you're bent on getting away from everything, try an agriturismo: usually a rural hotelesque setting on the road less traveled. Being that Montalcino is already a tad "out there," agriturismo offers you the possibility of stretching your days even further. For a really different take, try Abbadia Ardenga. This ex-abbey now rents entire apartments at reasonable prices (starts at about $20 per person per day). This is particularly worthwhile for larger groups. A minimum stay of three days is required.
If Il Moro and the rustic hideaways don't turn your crank, there are, of course, the star clustered hotels. Montalcino's best -- Hotel Bellaria and Albergo Ristorante Il Giglio -- boast three stars and have all the amenities. Get the full treatment and opt for "full pension" -- two square meals along with the room, all at the same place for around $85 per person.
If you go for a posh pad, save money on eats by grabbing some sausage, cheese, good Tuscan bread and wine from the COOP supermarket. Have a picnic on the church lawn at the opposite end of the town from the Rocca. And don't worry if you find yourself becoming more Montalcinese than you thought possible: hanging out in bars when you're not thirsty, chatting with locals when you don't speak Italian. I was even eyeing Yoshi's overtly Italian shoes and coat thinking, "those are pretty sharp." Just enjoy these metabolic changes -- what I group collectively as "The Montalcino Syndrome" -- while they last.
[07/19/2006, 07:16]
The Argentinians consumed in May 2,55 liters for inhabitant Better results that in April the producers of wine obtained on the internal Argentine market. In agreement to statistical information delivered by the INV (Vitivinicultura's National Institute) of Argentina, the consumption of wine for inhabitant reached in May the quantity of 2,55 liters, relying on the general population of the country.
If one was counting only the major ones of 18 years, this number would rise up to 3,84 liters. This indicates an increase of 7,66 per cent with regard to the same month of the year 2005.
While, the wines liberated to the consumption in this May, always according to numbers delivered by the INV, added the 967.503 hl., that represents an increase of 8,9 % with regard to the same month of the year 2005 and 12,79 more % with regard to last month April.
The origin of these wines they were in the main from the province of Mendoza, followed by the province of San Juan.
This increase is justified by the campaign of advertising that is realized at present in the Argentina to increase the internal consumption.
I'd originally written this for Lenn, but we didn't use it and I'm dry on material... read it and weep
Cabernet Sauvignon is for wimps.
Yep, you read right. Wimps, I tell ya. You want a dash of crème de cassis? Mathilde makes a pretty one for kir royales. Bursts of blackberry? Pass the Polaner All-Fruit. Chocolate and coffee notes? Starbuck?s can whip you up a mean frappucino. But please, don?t put it in my wine.
I admit, I?m being cranky. And I know it?s partially because I have a pile of dishes in my sink crying out for help as I try to type. But it?s also because I?m trying to make a point: while Cabernet Sauvignon can indeed produce beautiful wines, it?s often made into over-ripe fruit bombs smothered in vanilla-toasted oak.
I know what you?re thinking. Clearly, this woman has never tasted Silver Oak. Or Chateau Mouton-Rothschild. Or etc. etc. etc. I admit, Cab Sauvs can be made into some pretty smoking wines, but can you afford those? Nah, neither can I. The gloriously rated Howell Mountain Cabs are about as far from my price range as possible. As are top growth Bordeaux. Where does that leave me?
Cabernet Franc.
Granted, the two grapes are very different. Cab Sauvignon is all about tannins, dark fruit and leathery aromas. Cab Francs, while also firmly tannic, are lighter, earthier, and display much more herbal aromas. But for me, it?s one of the most wonderfully versatile grapes under vine, producing a plethora of styles, most of which are both food-friendly and age-worthy.
Cabernet Franc, as you know, is one of the grapes used in the classic Bordeaux blend. Along with the more famous Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot, Bordeaux can also include Cabernet Franc, Malbec, and Petit Verdot. Percentages of Cabernet Franc vary from chateau to chateau, but its typically used more on the right bank in St-Emilion and Pomerol to add tannic structure to Merlot?s juicy roundness.
But Bordeaux is certainly not where Cabernet Franc gained notoriety. That exhalted region is none other than the Loire Valley in France. The Loire is an interesting area that?s largely held on to traditional winemaking methods and indigenous grape varieties, including Muscadet, Pineau d?Aunis, and Cot (the local name for Malbec), among others. The AOCs (Appellation d?Origine Controlle) of Chinon, Bourgeuil, and St-Nicolas-de-Bourgeuil produce reds from Cabernet Franc. The wines tend to be leaner and more acidic than Bordeaux , ranging from the chalk-textured Bourgeuil to the richer Chinon to the juicy St-Nicolas-de-Bourgeuil. While lackluster winemaking can certainly produce bland wines, the true artists of the Loire have been known to craft earthy wines, loaded with mulberry, sage, and minerality that can age for 15 years or more.
Cabernet Franc, however, was largely overlooked in the United States until recently. Some experimental winemakers out in California have been producing Cab Francs that are big, bold, and brawny ? which is just fine, but not particularly true to the nature of the grape. Happily for us, Cab Franc seems to prefer the climate of New York State, and in particular, that of Long Island.
It turns out the maritime climate of Long Island is perfect for many of the Bordeaux grapes ? they dig the summer heat moderated by the surrounding water. Long Island is also cool enough in the winter to allow an appropriate dormant phase without great risk of extended freezes. The Finger Lakes have long struggled with red grapes for lack of sufficient sunlight to ripen, but Long Island has the best of all climactic combinations. And judging from a recent tasting, Long Island winemakers are producing Cab Francs in the all of its glory ? from light and juicy to tannic and mineral-laden.
Raphael and Jamesport both produce what are perhaps the most approachable Cab Francs. Lighter and juicier in style, these wines can both be served slightly chilled as delicious, thirst-quenching sippers. This is not to say that they?re not dinner-wines; indeed, serve them at room temperature paired with rosemary-roasted chicken and asparagus and they?ll certainly blossom.
Castello di Borghese has created a more new world Cabernet Franc that?s full on the palate with sweet cherry fruit and smooth tannins ? it?s a softer, rounder version of the grape that will appeal to dyed-in-the-wool Merlot fans. In a somewhat similar style, Vineyard 48 has certainly gone new world by oak-ageing the wines to impart toasty cinnamon nuances. It?s smooth, round, and creamy, loaded with blackberry and black cherry fruit. Pair either with a hearty beef stew for a midwinter treat.
Schneider produces the most classically-styled Cabernet Francs. If I were to taste their ?Le Breton? blind, I think I?d pick it out as a ripe Bourgeuil. The chalky nose offers plum, sweet red peppers, thyme, and rosemary, with a linear palate of blackberry that expands beyond the stoniness to a smooth, round finish of plumy licorice. Schneider?s ?Roanoke Point? is a bit more elegant, with toasty sandlewood aromas interlaced with rosewater and pluots. The blackberry fruit on the palate is enhanced by notes of roses, herbs, prunes, and roasted peppers. These are both Cabernet Francs for Cab Franc lovers. And a pairing? Why, Long Island duckling, of course!
Ok, now, I?m not saying that after trying Cabernet Franc, you?ll completely abandon Cabernet Sauvignon. But let it swish around your mouth for a while. Taste the lovely herbal notes and the layers of stone and fruit and try to convince me that it?s not an underappreciated grape.
And, if you really feel the need, send me a thank you note. It?s only polite.
This time of year the wine lover is inundated with T-day wine recommendations..."German Riesling is perfect with turkey"...."A Beaujolais is a sure bet on Thanksgiving"...."Burgundy, both red and white are ideal on your Thanksgiving".....etc. etc.
I for one am tired of staid poultry & stuffing wine pairing suggestions.
How about something different to eat and drink on Friday - the day after turkey day? May I suggest a Vermentino, not from the sardinian coast, but from Lodi, California. Who knew the California version of this hefty-spicy-herby-citrusy grape could be so true to its Italian roots? After racking up mo' mo' credit card debt on Friday, take the edge of with a plate of turkey enchiladas paired to Uvaggio Vermentino 2006 ($10). It will be the best wine-food match you will sample all week.
Beverage giant Diageo is enjoying the burst of free publicity that its Crown Royal whiskey got when the campaigning Hillary Clinton downed a shot of it in an Indiana bar.
Not one to miss an opportunity, Diageo is using the incident to promote one of its smaller brands, Jeremiah Weed Bourbon Liqueur by sending bottles of the sweet, 100-proof beverage ? reportedly a favorite of fighter pilots ? to the three major presidential campaigns.
While Crown Royal hails from Canada, Jeremiah Weed is at least made in the United States, in Connecticut. (So it's not really Bourbon ? ask any Kentuckian.) It's not likely to happen, but it's fun to speculate about what would happen if Hillary's beer-and-a-bump, just-folks strategy catches on. Nothing breaks the ice like a little Tequila followed by jello shots....
A couple of people asked me what happens when it rains during harvest. As the skies above some of the world's greatest vineyards seem to be dumping unending moisture on the fragile grapes, the questions seems particularly timely.
Water is an important part of the cycle of life. Almost nothing can live without it, and most non aquatic life will drown given too much water. In all things balance, and when it comes to harvesting grapes, less water is better.
Wet bunches of grapes tend to rot. Rot does not add pleasant flavors to wine. Even Nobel Rot (botrytis) which is responsible for the world's great dessert wines is not a good thing for dry wines.
Some grapes tend to have tighter bunches than others, and these are that much more susceptible to rot, since air can not easily get between the berries to dry them out. And air is the key. A few warm windy d
Tecnorati
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