Wine Review: 2009 Niner Sauvignon Blanc

Wine Review: 2009 Niner Sauvignon Blanc

By Codey Foster

A year ago I would have told you that there is no such thing as stylistically oaked Sauvignon Blanc. I might have even told you that the best Sauvignon Blanc comes from the North Island of New Zealand. Well, I’ve come a long way since then.

I’ll never be one to call New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc one-dimensional but I will maintain that it is spectacularly distinct and consistent. No other wine has ever given blind tasters (including myself) so much satisfaction and I think there’s something to be said for that. A wine that can shout its name and birthplace bottling after bottling is something admirable all on its own. In any case, as with most facets of my wine drinking, my Sauvignon Blanc interests have turned French. Namely Sancerre and white Bordeaux. Although, I must admit, my Bordeaux Sauvignon infatuation is largely endowed to the body, texture, and dimensionality of Semillon, which after all isn’t Sauvignon Blanc. So for the integrity of Sauvignon Blanc I’m more invested in white Sancerre. I guess what I’m getting at is that Sancerre and the 2009 Niner Sauvignon Blanc share some resilient commonalities even if that’s not what I expected when I first approached this bottle.

As far as winemaking, the Niner Sauvignon Blanc is the offspring of a careful, cool fermentation and precision French oaking. Primary fermentation takes place in stainless steel with half of the wine being finished in new and used French oak barrels. It undergoes a mild Malolactic fermentation and is blended for balance and acidity.

In the glass the 9erSB shows a very subtle lemony gold.

On the nose, melon, lemony citrus notes, vanilla, apple, and pears resonate alongside slight mineral, and a touch of honey.

On the palate the Niner is medium-plus bodied, full-flavored, and balanced. Its roundness is well complemented by a vibrant acidity and this is where its similarities with Sancerre become apparent. So often California wines are malo’ed out of every last drop of acidity and are left tasting flat and dull. The Niner, in contrast, maintains both a creamy body and a brilliant acidity as do my favorite Sancerres. Its fruit is persistent even still, bringing crisp apple, lemon peal, and fresh pineapple into the forefront. This is how white wine should be made.

As for food pairings you’re options are nearly endless. Oak and Malolactic fermentation lend this Sauvignon Blanc to cream-based, richer dishes, however its acidity opens it up a handful of classic Sauvignon Blanc pairings. I know I’d appreciate it with some sashimi—especially fatty tuna, salmon, and squid and octopus.

This bottle was a little reminder as to what I love about white wine.

$19.99

http://www.anconaswine.com/sku01805.html#anchor_moreinfo

Wine Review: 2003 Harmand-Geoffroy Mazis-Chambertin

Wine Review: 2003 Harmand-Geoffroy Mazis-Chamertin

By Codey Foster

Sometimes I find that the hardest wines to write about are the ones that I have the most mixed feelings about. The 2003 Harmand-Geoffroy Mazis-Chambertin is one of those wines. I guess with a complex bottling like this it’s easy to find entities in the wine that are quite stunning and others that leave you disappointed. That’s the reality of what we call “complexity” I guess—its elements can be both favorable or unfavorable. Although, in this particular wine I didn’t find any flavor components unfavorable, but a little disappointing perhaps.

Secondly, I’d like to stipulate that, in regards to my own personal taste, I find more and more that there are distinct lines between ‘what I like’, ‘what I think is good/well made’, and ‘what makes me think’. And although wines often span the gaps and overlap the space between these three realms—more often than not I’d prefer to drink a wine that makes me think even if I don’t consider it a great wine. A great Burgundy winemaker who’s name escapes me right now once said that while one of his Morey Grand Crus (I want to say it was Clos de la Roche) is constantly igniting animate conversation, a second Grand Cru (Bonnes-Mares, perhaps?) more often brings fourth silence of respectful admiration. Well in this scenario, I’d rather be drinking the Roche.

That said, I’m not sure where this Grand Cru fits in on my personal preference tasting structure, but I have no doubt that it has made me think. 

Before I begin to describe what it tasted like, as I realize is the purpose of this exercise, I just wanted to take note of the nature of Mazis itself. Mazis actually sits just above Clos de Beze (which sits just above Chambertin) on the west side of the RN74. Its wines are generally quite masculine, show quite deep color, and often come up to par with the Clos de Beze. Its wines are generally known to show more black fruit than red and can often develop for up to a couple of decades in the bottle. Harmand-Geoffroy in fact owns more Mazis than any other producer besides Faiveley. 2003 was an especially fine vintage in the Cote de Nuits—showing especially ripe fruit and spectacular concentration.

This particular version of Mazis is showing very developed, and with its brilliant secondary aromas, I think some of the fruit just got up and left. I guess drinking this bottle really made some of my own commentary from “The Romance of Old Wine” fully resonate with me. And although I’d classify this bottle more on the late end of the ‘of age’ drinking spectrum, it was absolutely apparent that some of its primary flavor components had been traded for secondary aromas—a compromise I’m not always willing to make.

In the glass, this Mazis is a deep, concentrated red with some browns filling in at its center and moderate bricking at the perimeter.

On the nose it shows off what I would dare to call well played brettanomyces--a little bit of a Band-Aidy funk that can sometimes be an outright turn off but with good integration can prove to be seductive and complex, as it does in this wine. Along side the brett comes sweet concentrated and almost syrupy aromas of maraschino cherry and subtle sweet spice. Licorice, plumbs, and black cherry fruit make an entrance, almost as an after thought, but I must stress that fruit profile has really taken a backseat in this winemaking effort and it is really developed funk and earth that takes the limelight.

It’s on the palate that this Burgundy shows Grand Cru character bringing fourth fine, fine layers of tannin and an evident structure for at least several more years in the cellar. And while the fruit is unctuous and concentrated, it is again, more reserved and contained than I hoped for it to be at this period of time. Sometimes the fruit felt a little absent on the back palate—which gives me some indication that this particular wine isn’t showing full Mazis potential. Despite its hollow spots, I still find this wine charming. I really like it, just not in the same way that I appreciate great Burgundy or Mazis-Chambertin for that matter.

Not a complete slam-dunk but an experience for sure—definitely worth the trip for any dedicated Burgundy drinker. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it, if that’s any indication to this wine’s depth.

We’ve got it out for 80.

http://www.anconaswine.com/sku01363.html#

Wine Review: Back to Bordeax—2005 Chateau Larose-Trintaudon Haut-Medoc

Wine Review: Back to Bordeax—2005 Chateau Larose-Trintaudon Haut-Medoc

By Codey Foster

This past Saturday, while at a wine bar in Greenwich, I found myself standing in line for the restroom next to a girl of who I took inexplicably quick interest in. She was short, blonde, unrefined, albeit gorgeous. Not my type, generally, but it wasn’t long before I found myself asking where she was from.

She looked me up and down. “France,” she replied, curtly. “But where in France?” I asked. “Bordeaux,” she replied. “Where in Bordeaux?” I asked. She scoffed, “but you don’t know Bordeaux.”

It was at this moment that the next restroom opened up and she disappeared behind the women’s room door.

Because of her austerity, tight structure, and overall inaccessibility, I can only assume that she was from Graves—but that’s beside the point.

I entered the men’s room just a moment later, hardly giving it any thought: ‘Psh. Of course I know Bordeaux. I bet I know Bordeaux better than anyone in this entire place,’ I reassured myself. It wasn’t until some time later that it really began to resonate with me. I really don’t know Bordeaux. Hardly at all.

Sure, I know my first growths, second growths, Sauternes, Cheval Blanc, St. Émilion, and Pomerol. I know the names of the estates, basic soil compositions, and blends. But when it really comes down to it—the nitty gritty details that don’t appear on a sommelier exam—I know very little. I hardly ever drink the wines, I couldn’t describe more than a couple of vintages, nor the nature of a particular vineyard site (save D’Yquem). Truthfully, Bordeaux is my single weakest French wine region. 

And so this is my resolution. Before the schools out, before the lifeguards perch, before the ice cream melts—I’ll know Bordeaux like the back of my hand. And so let the learning begin with the Chateau Larose-Trintaudon Haut-Medoc 2005.

Some people are afraid of affordable Bordeaux—and with good reason, I suppose. There’s been a lot of garbage imported in past decades, however, in recent years not only have quality-minded importers brought some really awesome stuff to the United States, but the Chateaux have stepped up their game as well—using more quality-minded methods of production that allow them to produce great wines at great prices.

This particular Bordeaux comes from the Haut-Medoc, a Left Bank AOC just south of the Medoc that is famous for its quite variable soils and a handful of estates ranked 3^rd-5^th growth in the 1855 classification. Although Chateau Larose and Chateau Trintaudon were not among them (they were in fact, once, two different estates)—the current estate is known for producing some of the finer wines from the Haut-Medoc despite being excluded from the classification. As a result Larose-Trintaudon often produces great wines that don’t come with a grand cru price tag.

2005 was in fact a spectacular vintage for the Left Bank, producing wines with especially apt aging structures, meatiness, and finesse.

I was surprised to notice that this $20 Bordeaux is still fairly young looking in the glass showing off deep red with a pit of dense purple at its center.

On the nose the Larose-Trintaudon offers up a ‘just rained’ kind of earthiness, wet pavement, succulent cherry, some raspberry, and spice box at its core. Freshly cracked pepper and subtle dried fruit (although nothing too raisony) also make an appearance at its edges.

On the palate this wine is still quite grippy and showing nice potential for additional aging. It is perhaps a bit stemmy upon pulling the cork however, this isn’t something that detracts from its overall unction and grip. As it opened up, more generous fruit came forward that was more representative of the other 2005s I’ve tasted. Maraschino cherry notes followed by hints of cassis and figs opened vibrantly.

I often find that cab-based wines take on more cherry-driven characteristics in the Old World where as, in the New World, they are more black currant oriented and jammy. This Left Bank  is no exception. Its structure is classy and composed. A thought-stimulating, yet classic example of Bordeaux that won’t break the bank. I’d be willing to bet you’d do pretty well for yourself sticking a couple of these in the cellar and forgetting them for another four years.

A recommendation from my buddy Thor

Available at Ancona’s Wines for $19.99

http://www.anconaswine.com/sku03620.html

Wine Review: THE Non-Vintage Brut—The Krug Grand Cuvee

Wine Review: THE Non-Vintage Brut—The Krug Grand Cuvee

By Codey Foster

The first time I recall hearing about Krug Champagne was in my junior year of high school when Jay-Z announced that he would boycott Louis Roederer’s Cristal as a result of the supposedly racist remarks made by Louis Roederer’s managing director Frederic Rouzaud—as published in The Economist earlier that year. What was said, or who was throwing stones didn’t concern me, at the time—but the elixirs that the hip hop community and its following would adopt in replacement were a different story. Jay’s nominees? Dom Perignon and Krug.

Cristal is good stuff. There’s no doubt about it. But from what I’ve experienced, Dom Perignon and Krug seem to come in at just about the same (or even higher) caliber for substantially less money. So coming off an 18-day alcohol cleanse, I couldn’t help but treat myself and my family to a bottle of the non-vintage Krug Brut Grande Cuvee—a wine that I generally consider to be the most balanced Champagne in the world.

As it turns out the Grande Cuvee makes up just about 75% of Krug’s annual production with about 75,000 bottles made every year. Most blends constitute 45-50% Pinot Noir, 10-15% Pinot Meunier, and 35-45% Chardonnay. Rumor has it that over 150 base wines come together to make this non-vintage blend and complexity is the grand result. My brother was keen to point out that we might have purchased a keg for the same price but at just about $1 per base wine, I feel Krug’s price is high, but not overly exorbitant.

In the glass, the Grand Cuvee showed a light straw hue with a rich, persistent mousse.

On the nose it is full of vibrant baking spice, crisp red and green apple, and delicate yeasty whispers followed by a full and sophisticated toastiniess.

It is on the palate that Krug really shines. Its searing green apple acidity is brilliantly counterpointed by rich allspice berry qualities and a creamy texture that is anything but an over-eager bombardment of bubbles. Its effervescence is lively but refined and cohesive. This is a wine of tremendous balance and execution. Its sweet fruit points hit the palate in all the right places and its acidity and savory complexity fill in the gaps for a truly cerebral Champagne experience.

As far as food pairings, well, I’ll be the first to admit that it doesn’t take a sommelier to pair the Grand Cuvee. This is the kind of wine that is versatile, inviting, and will hold its own beside many preparations that other wines will not. From oysters to popcorn to unusual preparations of deep fried fruit—you’ve got your bases covered. My dad and I opted for ultra-crisped lobster/crab/shrimp/scallop cakes and the marriage was seamless. The varying and stimulating mouth feel of each shelfish/crustation made for a pairing that worked on both a textural and flavor-oriented level. The toasty crispiness of the cakes harmonized so flawlessly with that of the wine and an array of textures from both the food and the wine completed the experience. 

750 ml--$169.99 at Ancona's Wines

The Romance of Old Wine

The Romance of Old Wine

By Codey Foster

In a 1998 horizontal tasting of Châteauneuf-du-Pape an innocent bystander once asked me, ‘what’s the point? Why not enjoy the wines individually on several different occasions and experience several times the pleasure?”

I must admit, for a moment I was stumped. If our tasting group had instead tasted the eight Châteauneuf-du-Papes on eight different nights we could have certainly appreciated each wine at least a little bit more. Perhaps on eight different occasions each wine could have been even more special than all eight at once. But after a little consideration I soon realized that the answer to his question was actually quite simple.

As I’ve said in the past, I’m a firm believer that a great wine can take you somewhere. And on that rainy night in Norwalk Connecticut we were actually quite far from home—we were in Châteauneuf-du-Pape, 1998, right around harvest time.

What I’ve just described is what I like to call the romance of aged wine. Sure, mature wine can take you somewhere. I recognize and admire its ability to do so. But past the romance I’d like to examine its transformation in the bottle with detachment from nostalgic baggage. And so, for the purposes of this commentary I’d like to momentarily forget about the romance of old wine and focus purely on its development and lifespan.

In fact, I believe that for the sole purpose of improving overall quality of wine—time actually does very little, and more often than not, it actually causes detriment. Yeah. I said it. An aging wine is a deteriorating wine.

I must admit that because of my age I haven’t had a great deal of time to lay down and mature my own bottles, which I hope only slightly discredits my accountability to write this article. I’m 22 years old. So it’s only through generous friends and acquaintances that I’ve been blessed enough to taste a good amount of mature wine. And with those experiences I’ve realized one thing--as a wine ages, it is more often that it loses something rather than gains something. Over extended periods of time a wine lets go. It’s color fades, the fruit dulls, and everything that once was, is no more.

Nothing is produced as a wine ages in the bottle, it merely changes form, and I think this is something that us wine lovers often lose sight of. Now, I’m not saying we should all start drinking Beaujolais Nouveau. There are certainly some wines that come on to the market just far too young—but I feel like in general, the wine world overestimates that drinking lifespans of great wines, and they’re the ones missing out.

One of the wines that really made this idea resonate for me was a 1988 Chateau Rayas—a wine that drank marvelously in the moment, paired flawlessly with the meal that accompanied it, and could probably deliver pleasure for several years to come. But in retrospect, the ’88 Rayas was well past its prime. And when I say ‘past its prime’ I don’t mean that it wasn’t drinking well, I think it was, and I derived much pleasure from it. But what I mean is that I think it might have been even more remarkable ten years earlier.

This is where I take qualm with suggested drinking windows. When someone like Robert Parker says that the newest vintage of Chateau Lafite will drink best from 2023-2060, what is he really telling you? Not very much, that’s for sure.

 I’m sure that within that time span there is a smaller period of time that that particular wine will be drinking substantially better than it will be for the rest of the time within the larger window. And I’ve got a feeling it’s not 2050-2060. The end result? We end up holding onto our wine for longer, and enjoying it less. That’s poor investing.

I agree that a small part of my argument has to do with circumstance and personal taste. Sure, you might enjoy you’re Chateau Haut-Brion at 25 years of maturity, while I more enjoy it at 10 years of maturity--and it might also have to do with factors like wine service, temperature, and food pairing. But when push comes to shove, I think you’ll find that of-age wines out perform ancient ones, and anyone who says differently is probably just caught up in the ‘romance’.

To approach this from a different angle it might be valuable to examine what makes an ancient wine great. I’ve spent a lot of time around other wine lovers and tasted a lot of 'old' wine. And in that time I’ve tasted a fair amount of what other people called ‘spectacular’ bottles. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed (even loved them) too—but the one thing that every single one of those ‘spectacular’ bottles has in common is that it was drinking ‘fresh, vibrant, and as if it were 10-15 years younger’.

Come on now. Do you realize what you just did there? You held a bottle of wine for a substantial fraction of your lifetime so it could ideally taste young (and you incurred the risk of flaw, breakage, and theft along the way). Am I missing something here, or are you just lighting candles and setting the table for a romantic dinner?

The last thing that ticks me off about old wine is something that I couldn’t fully put my finger on until just recently. I was even hesitant to include it in this commentary for fear of sounding ungrateful but I think it’s pretty important so I’ve decided to say it anyway: as a wine ages it departs from what it was originally.

Over the holidays I had the chance—a chance that I am so incredibly grateful for—to taste two different specimens of 1964 Cheval Blanc. Both bottles were sound, had been stored well (to the best of my knowledge), and were opened at the same time, under identical circumstances. And yet they were two completely different wines.

Cheval Blanc 1964 A was austere, mineral driven and earthy with hints of mushroom, cedar, and spice. Cheval 1964 B was rich, full of ripe red fruit with a background of leather, dry earth, and roasted herbs.

This degree of bottle variation isn’t something that occurs at the chateau during the winemaking process but something that happens over time as each wine ages. As time goes on each bottle deviates from the original ‘chateau wine’ so that 40 or 50 years later, there is no such thing as ‘1964 Cheval Blanc’ but only variations and fragments of its original spirit. I think this has to do with a lot of things including small variations in importing, storage, and every part of the overall journey. But the greatest, perhaps, is cork variation. As we all know, not only are corks imperfect objects but the composition of each and everyone is in fact quite different. Wines breathe through corks and when two wines breath through two different corks for 40 years—well they end up becoming two different wines. Even identical twins, two offspring with the same DNA grow up to be two different people—well it’s the same story with wine.

So sure, hold onto your over-age wines and drink them on special occasions—I know I will--but do so with the full understanding that the value is often more sentimental than quality-minded. Logically speaking, you’re much better off going out and buying a wine that is drinking well rather than trying to incubate it yourself. Wines die. But don’t be too disappointed because that magnum of '36 Beaucastel that you procured off of Christies last year is going to make a fabulous doorstop. 

Wine Review: 2001 La Rioja Alta "Viña Ardanza" Reserva Especial Rioja

Wine Review: 2001 La Rioja Alta "Viña Ardanza" Reserva Especial Rioja

By Codey Foster

When I taste a great wine, I’m generally inclined to detail how individual and unique that particular wine is. And although I believe this wine is exceptional, it is not a ‘one-of-a-kind’ but instead a flawless representation of its kind. Don’t get me wrong; I think it’s special, but even more so I think it’s a flawless textbook example of Traditional Rioja.

To put the differences between modern and traditional Rioja into black and white is sometimes difficult, but more often than not traditional Rioja is grown at high altitudes, is generally lighter in body and color, more austere, earthy, and aged in 100% American oak. To the contrary, modern Rioja generally comes from lower altitude vineyards, is denser in color and body, riper, and generally aged in 100% French oak but sometimes in 50% French oak and 50% American if the modernist winemaker is feeling nostalgic. 

This particular specimen from Viña Ardanza was produced in a particularly fine Rioja vintage, 2001 (dubbed by some THE Rioja Vintage), and as a result the bodega has decided to label it with the designation ‘Reserve Especial’—a designation that it has released in only two other vintages: 1964 and 1973.

In the glass it shows off a deep majestic ruby with significant bricking around the rim.

On the nose this wine radiates beautiful dill-driven American Oak aromas followed by chewy red cherry, malt chocolate, and an underlying dried Earth characteristic that is well refined and complex. If mature Silver oak showcases American oak this beautifully, someone should let me know so I can start putting together a vertical tomorrow.

On the palate the Ardanza Reserve Especial is composed and structured. I wouldn’t say that it is tight by any stretch, but this wine still has a long road to travel, although it is also drinking quite well in present. Its soft tannins and very nice acidity help it to pair with almost any food rather seamlessly. I don’t think I’d be going out on a limb to say that it’s the most food-friendly non-Pinot that I’ve tasted this year.

And what else do I love about the Viña Ardanza Reserve Especial? It’s price. Ringing in at just 32.99, this might just be the only wine on the market over 10 years of age, this beautiful, and under $100. I’ll stack a few of these in my cellar for sure. The final challenge? Track down the ’64 and ’73.

As I said, $32.99 at Ancona’s Wines 

http://www.anconaswine.com/sku01885.html

The Burgundy Ego Trip: An Over-Oaking Complex

The Burgundy Ego Trip: An Over-Oaking Complex

By Codey Foster

Over the past few months I’ve become ever more aware of the extent of oaking regimens in the Cote-d'or. And to put this gently. I can’t believe it.

As it turns out, it’s not uncommon for Burgundian winemakers to use 100% new oak on their Grand Cru and Premier Cru level wines. Why is this so ridiculous, you ask? Because they’re hypocrites, that’s why.

Simply put, Burgundy is the Birthplace of terroir. Its winemakers live terroir, breathe terroir, and preach terroir. It is in Burgundy that the same winemaker will tediously and individually vinify small and contiguous vineyard plots, often only several meters apart, in order to showcase the individuality of each parcel of land.

To go to such painstaking effort to preserve the purity of each vineyard plot and then allow the resulting wine to be marred by the tannins, phenols, and other wood compounds of new French oak seems sacrilege and contradictory.

What makes even less sense about this equation is that it’s only the very best (highest vineyard classifications) that see new oak. These are the vineyards that have the finest, most distinct terroir, and as a result, it gets covered by oak. I’m curious, where’s the logic there?

Leflaive, for instance, ferments Montrachet in 100% new oak. Now, if I’m going to shell out a small fortune to experience the nuances of Montrachet terroir, there better not be new oak in the way. I know what oak tastes like. I can get liquid lumberyard at retail for ten bucks a bottle—but Montrachet is a one of a kind (there are actually 26 producers, but who’s counting?) and if I’m drinking Montrachet, I sure hope to be tasting Montrachet and not some diluted or distorted fragment of what once was.

Dominique Laurent in fact takes oaking to a new level using 200% new oak on many of his Premier and Grand Crus. Yep 200%. That means oak aging in a new barrel for a period of time (probably 6 months to a year) and then re-racking the stuff into a second new barrel for a second round of oak aging.

I’m not a winemaker and I don’t claim to be but come on man. This is 2012. Obviously there are a lot of factors that contribute to the outcome of over-oaking including tradition, overestimation of the influence of new oak on bottle longevity, and plain personal preference. But I’m wondering if perhaps the most influential is pride.

I’m curious whether the notion that more structured and substantial wines are more apt to maintain grace even with heavy oaking has lead winemakers to use oak treatments purely to prove something about their wines. I can hear it right now. ‘My wines are so [structured, meaty, hearty, substantial] that they can handle 100% new oak.’ To be frank, the notion of a wine being able to ‘handle’ 100% new oak pisses me off in the first place. In my humble opinion, oak is merely an ingredient available to winemakers in order to incorporate particular characteristics to wine—not a yardstick at which to measure its quality. And I’m not denying that great wines can be made using oak, but in Burgundy I believe greatness occurs through transparent winemaking and true vineyard representation. Show off what you’re mama gave you, you know?

To that school of thought, one of my new favorite Burgundy producers Jean Marie Fourrier is a winemaker that seems to have adopted more concern for the representation of his vineyards than the showcase of his winemaking. Fourrier uses no more than 20% new oak in each vintage in order to maintain the individuality of each wine. "Oak is for slow breathing of the wine, not for taste,” Fourrier explains. And I can’t help but agree. The use of French oak for its inherent wine making mechanics is just fine. But when vanillin starts taking over fruit and mineral profile—that’s a different story.

So unless you’ve got a small population of Quercus petraea growing in your vineyard (that’s French Oak, for all of you not up to snuff on your Quercus varietals)—your brand new 60 gallon oak drum has got nothing to do with your terroir.  

Domaine Fourrier Bourgogne Blanc 2008

http://www.anconaswine.com/sku01049.html

Domaine Fourrier Gevrey-Chambertin Vielle Vignes  2008

http://www.anconaswine.com/sku01052.html

Fourrier Gevrey Chambertin Premier Cru Clos St Jacques Vieilles Vignes 2007

http://www.anconaswine.com/sku00025.html

Wine Review: Sharpe Hill Late Harvest Vignoles 2006

Wine Review: Sharpe Hill Late Harvest Vignoles 2006
By Codey Foster

This shameless golden nectar might be just about as close to Sauternes production that the state of Connecticut might ever come—and I’m not saying that with regret but with state pride. I’ve tasted a couple of the Sharpe Hill wines including ‘The Ballet of Angels’—the best selling wine produced in Connecticut--and although I don’t recall having particularly strong feelings about either of them, there is something so incredibly white Bordeaux about this bottle that I couldn’t help but share it with you guys.

In the glass this pure, golden beauty shows radiant and rich.

On the nose it is ripe and incredibly botyrised showing off unmistakable aromas of honey and apricots, less obvious hints of pineapple, mango, green tea, and maple, and ever so subtle hints of a good late harvest Riesling minerality. I only wish I could more aptly describe the character of honey in this late harvest because the honey-like profile in this wine is so distinct and so familiar but something that I’m unable to adequately put into words.

It is only on the palate that the Sharpe Hill Late Harvest differentiates itself from fine Sauternes. Imagine a classic ripe Sauternes, Chateau Suduiraut for instance, and just turn it down a notch. The Sharpe Hill shows just a touch less ripeness, sugar, and substantially less alcohol—ringing in at just 10.5. With so many modern Sauternes reaching upward of 13 and 14 percent, this wine is really in a category all of its own. I must admit, I’ve had a few Sauternes that came off just a little bit warm, and that was not the case with the Sharpe Hill Late Harvest. In fact, I think late harvest wine in this particularly low alcohol category is perhaps even a bit more marketable than a thicker and sweeter Sauternes--as is it just a little more compatible with food. Not only could this bottling match classic Sauternes food pairings (blue cheese, foie gras, escargot), but it could also do those preparations with a little bit of spice and zest. Red pepper infused cheese especially comes to mind, as do salty/spicy combos.

My only reservation about this wine lies within its very structure. While it maintains good freshness, just a little more acidity would have brought it into perfect balance. That isn’t to say it doesn’t have an adequate acidity to begin with, but I like my sweet wines racy, ya know?

I guess I also would have hoped for a little more finish but that’s not to say that it falls off the palate by any stretch. In fact, I hate to get down on this wine at all. I think it’s a spectacular effort, all considered, and I look forward to marrying it to something blue-veined and pungent in the near future. And from Vignoles! Who would have reckoned?

$24.99 at http://www.anconaswine.com/sku11592.html  

Wine Review: Mas Doix ‘Salanques’ 2006

Wine Review: Mas Doix ‘Salanques’ 2006

By Codey Foster

Someone with much more wit than I once described the experience of Le Musigny as ‘Baby Jesus sliding down the throat in velvet trousers’. Well, if that’s the case—and I will stand by this--then that makes the 2006 Mas Doix ‘Salanques’ the equivalent of Lady Gaga sliding down the throat in velvet stilettos, lacey thigh highs, and a silk half shirt. And believe me, I say that with affection.

To break it down for you, this Priorat is a nicely balanced blend of 65% Garnacha and 15% Cariñena, rounded off with international vinifera swagger (that is, some Syrah, Merlot, and a bit of Cabernet Sauvignon). The Garnacha and Cariñena at the heart of the blend, come from 70-90 year old vines in high altitude slate vineyards. As it turns out Salanques is not a direct declassification of the Mas Doix grand cuvee, as I previously believed, but in fact a wine all of its own. It is cool fermented and sees 14 months in tight grain French oak barrels—a recipe that seems to be working.

In the glass this wine shows appropriately dense and inky. 

On the nose it flaunts luscious dried raisons very reminiscent of fine vintage port. But past the raisons Salanques brings in unique tree fruit qualities including poached plumbs, orange peel, fresh squeezed orange juice (I swear), and apple juice. Now I know these descriptors sound far-fetched and innovative—but as is the concept and execution of Salanques. Past the fruit is every level of complexity that I ever hoped to find in a red wine including earthy/mineral qualities, earthy/gamey qualities, spice, tar, smoke, white and black pepper, chocolate, and a slight floral character that I unfortunately can’t aptly elaborate on any more.

However, it’s not the flavor descriptors of this wine that enamored me most. What enamors me most is its texture and mouth feel. It’s at this moment that I’d like you to reconsider what I said about Gaga. Imagine sexy full palate grip layered on with perfect proportions of velvet, lace, and silk—a cerebral experience that brings on just as much pleasure as the flavors themselves. In combination, flavor and texture marry to create a wine that is rich, incredibly layered, and decadent. This is a wine both of structure and grace. I’d imagine that it will show elegantly for at least another decade but with this kind of wine, there is really no reason to find out. Drink now because the drinking’s good.

As for pairings, bare one thing in mind: this wine rings in at a healthy 15% ABV, and it carries it well, but cracked black pepper, paprika, or any other zesty spice is going to bring the heat right out of the fruit. Simple red meat preparations with olive oil, garlic, and a little bit of salt might do wonders. I might also experiment with lightly caramelized onions or roasted peppers but anything too sweet might spoil the pairing, so don’t over do it.

If you can’t tell, I’m pretty fired up about this blend. I’ve been on the Priorat train for a while, but it’s this wine that has my running up front and shoveling coal into the furnace. I invite you to come join me—and if not, just dance, it’s gonna be okay.

$39.99 at http://www.anconaswine.com/sku01092.html

Wine Review: 2009 Bodegas Borsao Campo de Borja Tres Picos

This Garnacha is bursting with flavor. Succulent dark cherry and raspberry on the palate with hints of vanilla and spice. Medium/full body with mellow tannins and a smooth finish. A perfect wine for holiday dining, with loads of pairing potential. Try Tres Picos with sage roasted chicken and sweet potatoes... It is delicious!

Wine Review: 2010 Domaine Vindemio Imagine

Love at first sip! For under $25 this is one of the best values I have seen all year. An alluring blend of Syrah and Grenache, 2010 Domaine Vindemio Imagine is full-flavored and rich. It has a luscious, full body with an impressive display of fresh, ripe fruit. I would love to fast forward a few years to see how it develops. In the mean time, I will take another bottle home and try it again with food. Its sweet, succulent fruit will complement the savory flavors of pork tenderloin. Yum... I cannot wait for round two!

Ancona's Wines December Events

We have an exciting list of events coming up in December, mark your calendars...

December 2nd - Wilton Holiday Stroll

Join the festivities! This year Ancona’s Wines of Wilton is participating in Wilton Chamber’s Holiday Stroll. Stop by our store on 5 River Road (located next to Stop & Shop) on December 2nd for a taste of the holiday season. This annual community event celebrates the magic of the holidays and we hope to see you there!

December 3rd - Get in the Spirit with Ancona's Wines

Join Ancona’s Wines & Liquors on Saturday, December 3rd, from 2-5PM. We will be mixing seasonal cocktails and pouring our favorite holiday wines. As always, our staff are ready and eager to assist with your holiday beverage pairings!

December 8th - Tasting Seminar

'A Taste of New & Old World Wines'

On Thursday, December 8th, from 7:30-8:30PM Ancona’s Wines is hosting a fun and interactive tasting seminar focusing on the differences between ‘New’ and ‘Old’ World wines. Cost of seminar is $20, includes $10 store voucher and Spiegelau tasting glass. Come experience the difference of wines from around the globe! Space is limited, R.S.V.P required - (203)544-8958.

December 10 - Holiday Wine Tasting

Ancona’s Wines & Liquors is hosting a festive tasting on Saturday, December 10th, from
2-5PM. We will be pouring our favorite holiday party picks, all guaranteed to wow your holiday guests. Hope to see you there!

December 17 - It's All About the Bubbles

‘Tis the season to get bubbly! Join Ancona’s Wines on Saturday, December 17th, from 2-5PM as they pour a sparkling selection of their favorite fizzy classics!