Winesday: Coming Down With a Case of Sauvignon Blanc

We went up to Murphy's last weekend and, as is our habit, came back with some wine. Among other things (and after looting a wine cave with some pirates) (more on that later), we acquired a case of Chatom Vineyards 2007 Sauvignon Blanc, a favorite since we had it in a local restaurant and decided we needed to find this winery. Crisp, well-balance acidity, touch of tropical fruit to start with a mellow finish.* It's an excellent standby, and since the new vintages were coming out soon we were concerned that we might run out, so the prudent thing to do seemed to be to stock up. So we did.

Also, just to be on the safe side, we bought a lot more wine. You never know.


*Tasting notes courtesy of Cameron, who can do that sort of thing.

Winesday: "Different From What I'm Used To"

What do you do when you get off a red-eye cross-country flight with a two hour drive between you and your destination? Wine tasting, obviously! It turns out that the Finger Lakes area is positively lousy with wineries, and since we were there it seemed like a shame not to stop and check a few out.

The first place we came across was called "Three Brothers," named after it's central marketing trope. Namely, that the winery was owned by three brothers, each of who had a corresponding winery on the property. And, in an amazing strike of business fortune, each of the brothers' personalities happened to correspond perfectly with a different market segment associated with the wedding parties that, coincidentally, would find plenty of parking available for their busses and limos in the winery's parking lot. For the parents we had the "traditional" older brother, with a tasting room fitted out in blonde wood and muted accessories, with familiar, if unexceptional, wines on offer. (Including what must have been the lightest Pinot Noir I've ever tasted. In related news, I appear to have become a wine snob.) Then, for the bachelorette party, we have brother #2, the "romantic," who conveniently appears to favor very sweet wines and a tasting room that sold cheap feather boas, that traditional American expression of the sentiment, "Woo! We're being crazy!" We bought a bottle from this one, the quite drinkable if unfortunately named "Backseat Bounce," and continued our tour.

The final wine stop of the carefully orchestrated tour was the province of the "badass" brother, a faux-roadhouse perfect for the bachelor party that is not going to get within eighty feet of a stripper if he knows what's good for him. The lady at the tasting bar asked us where we were from and, when we said California, asked what we thought of the wines. At which point I was able to say, in total honesty, that they were different from what we were used to.

The highlight of the place was, of all things, the on-site microbrewery, presumably there to serve the guests who "aren't big wine drinkers, if you know what I mean." I've never actually developed much of a taste for the brew, but there were some wheat beers I enjoyed, and Cameron liked the IPA enough that we stopped again on our way back* to pick up a growler of it to take to his friends we went to visit in Canada.**


*Which, being on a weekend, was a fun little excursion to the gates of Hell, with at least one stretch Hummer and several people wearing tiaras.
**Which is quite close to New York, though it takes a while to get there, with traffic.

Winesday: What's That Smell?

Amista Syrah

Taste is a funny thing. I don't mean in the way that makes some people think that this is a good idea for an outfit, although that's not without its entertainment value. But right now we're talking about the sense (one of five-- collect them all!), and the way perception influences it.

We first tasted this wine last November, and there was something overwhelmingly familiar about the flavor, but we couldn't figure out what it was. Then, and I don't know if it was the influence of the season or not, but one particular association sprang to mind, and once it was there I just couldn't shake it.

"It's turkey!" I said. "Am I crazy?"

Cameron, wisely, didn't answer the question, but did agree about the turkey thing. We debated taking it for Thanksgiving dinner, but decided against, because it seemed just too literal, and besides, flavors aside, a syrah seems kind of big for white meat. So we put the other bottles on the shelf (it was part of a wine club shipment) and didn't break it out again until months later. The flavor was still there, and it was still turkey, and we were still stumped. It's not something that usually shows up in tasting notes, after all.

Fortunately, Cameron's wine-expert friend Ken was on hand to explain. It turns out that there is a variety of yeast called Brettanomyces (Brett for short) that can produce flavors described as, among other things, "horsey, wet dog, stale hamburger, and similar to Belgian Lambic beer."

They didn't mention turkey, but I think we can just put that down to my highly refined palate.

Winesday: The Bargain Chard Deathmatch

In this corner, marked down to $60 a case in the tasting room because they were trying to clear out their remaining stock: Stevenot 2006 Chardonnay.


In the other corner, off the shelf and into the basket with the frozen stir-fry vegatables for $5.98: Trader Joe's 2009 Grower's Reserve Chardonnay.

Round One: Both put in the freezer to chill, then briefly forgotten. An amount of time later, remembered and retrieved. Trader Joe's was frozen solid (but, and this is important, not cracked) while the Stevenot remained in liquid phase. Advantage: Stevenot, and the power of a higher alcohol content.

Round Two: Bottle of Stevenot has already been half-drunk and left overnight in the fridge, possibly biasing the results. On the other hand, freezing a wine solid is not generally recommended for optimal flavor, so the disadvantages are considered a draw. Both are poured, and tasted extensively.

Nose-- TJ's takes a lead here, with nice floral notes and some citrus.
Body-- Stevenot somewhat fuller here, with a bit more weight to it; TJ quite light, almost more sauvignion blanc-like.
Sugar-- TJ noticably sweeter than S, unless we got the glasses mixed up and it's really the other way around.
Finish-- Both bottles.

 Now, let's go down ringside for the results.

And the winner, in a split decision, is. . . whichever wine is in this glass! Let's hear a big round of applause for Your! New! Champion!

(Seriously, they were both good for the price, and it seems both mean and arbitrary to declare a winner and a loser when it really wasn't that easy to tell them apart.)

Winesday: Small Town, Big Cab

Val du Vino Cabernet Sauvignon


I think I mentioned that a couple of weeks ago Cameron and I took off for a long weekend in Murphy's, our favorite winery-infested town in the Sierra Foothills. We were lucky enough to catch one of the few outright-beautiful series of days in this strange and damp spring, and we divided our time between  visiting tasting rooms up and down Main Street (a distance of about five blocks) and sitting out on the porch of the rental cottage, reading and drinking our finds. The only real downside was that the cottage didn't have cable, and since Murphy's isn't much of a nightlife place (the restaurants, we discovered, tend to close around eight), we were left with the network offerings on TV. And all the good movies were in Spanish*.

We really shouldn't have been surprised by that, because for all it's having of some nice restaurants and a place where you can buy fancy olive oils, Murphy's is at its heart a small town. We saw one aspect of that on Saturday night, walking back from dinner past the hall of the local chapter of the Native Sons of the Golden West, which was entirely packed with people. The doors and windows were all open and inside a band was playing and there seemed to be something going on up on the main stage. Someone was selling tickets at the door, but I didn't get up the nerve to go over and ask what was going on. We found out the next day that it was a benefit for a local man who had been diagnosed with leukemia, and they were raising money to help pay his expenses. Apparently, there had also been a bake sale.

On the other hand, the place isn't all small-town charm and togetherness: At dinner that night we were seated near a bachelorette party from Modesto, who were having fun with the grim determination of women who haven't seen the near side of twenty in quite a while, but haven't let that information reach the part of the brain that picks their clothes.**

But the best small-town moment, and the one that actually brings me back around to the subject of this post, was when we went to the winery mentioned here and bought a few bottles of wine. Or, rather, after that, when we got home later that afternoon from our wanderings and found a bottle and a note at the door. The note was from one of the people at the winery, who realized that they had given us the wrong bottle in our purchase (a Mourvedre, I think) instead of the Cabernet Sauvignon we had bought. The bottle was our replacement Cab, and the note said to just leave the other (wrong) bottle with our rental agent, who conveniently lived next to the cottage and was a friend of the winemakers. The whole incident just warmed my cynical, big-suburb heart, all the more for the fact that it really is a very nice wine.


*Fun fact: I retain enough knowledge of the Spanish language from high school to be able to mostly understand what's going on in Lost Boys.
**Actual quote I overheard, "Well, I had to try botox. Everyone else was doing it."

Winesday/Whinesday

So, three weeks into this and I seem to have come to the inevitable conclusion: I am not a very good wine blogger. I remain, of course, an excellent wine drinker, but the part where I translate that experience to the written word has so far escaped me, with all of my impressions being either "tasty!" or stolen from other people. Which is not to say I am giving it up entirely-- I have never let abject failure stop me so far* and I don't see why I should stop now. What I am going to do is to take advantage of Karen's (not the one with the vegan shoes, the other one) fortuitous misunderstanding and alternate Winesday with "Whinesday" in which I indulge in my other favorite pastime: complaining about things that annoy me and that I disapprove of.

I don't actually have one ready for today, so I am going to lean another, more talented blogger who has illustrated one of my grammatical** pet-peeves.

I agree with her alot.



*Not true, but go with me here.
**Yes, I am aware of the irony.

Winesday: Long Weekend Wine

Newsome-Harlow Zinfandel

I swear, there are times when we go on trips that don't have anything to do with drinking wine. I mean, I can't think of any right now, but there must be some*. Anyway, we're at it again, heading back up to Murphy's where we've rented a cottage for a weekend of tasting, drinking, hanging out and reading**. Which means that a) there will be no shoefinder post this week, because I'm not sure if there is going to be internet at the rental cabin, and anyway, that's not a vacation activity, and b)you are going to be hearing a lot about the wines of the Sierra Foothills in the coming Wednesdays. And by "a lot" I mean, "occasional digressions when I remember something I wanted to write about, plus references to chalk."

This wine was one of our finds from our last trip, and possibly my favorite mid-price-range zin so far. I failed to take notes while drinking it,*** and the only thing I can remember commenting on at the time was a hint of caramel, though I'm fairly sure there were other things going on too, like grapes and alcohol.

On reflection, that would seem to be a wholly inadequate way to blog about a very fine wine. I guess I'm just going to have to try some more and get back to you.


*Wait, I just thought of one: Tokyo. Also, the wine on the cruise was not that good and silly expensive, so I mostly stuck to Harvey Wallbangers.
**I'm bringing at least five books. I don't expect to read all of them, but you never know what you're going to be in the mood for, and I like to be prepared.
***I'm starting to suspect I'm not really cut out for this wine-blogging thing.

Winesday: The Chardonnay That Ate San Mateo

Actually, that's really not fair; it isn't a particularly big or aggressive wine at all. Not too sharp, not overly buttery, pairs excellently with an evening sitting around watching terrible, terrible movies on the SciFi* channel. Cameron was away for the weekend, living the high life** in Vegas for his friend's bachelor party, which meant it was two days of sourdough baguette, white wine and execrable acting***. On Saturday we had Mega Shark vs Giant Octopus, and then Mega Piranha (one can only assume that Giga Jellyfish is in preproduction as we speak) and Sunday featured various parts of America being destroyed by a meteor, a volcano and weather. I don't think I have ever heard the phrase, "We've got to get out of here," said with such frequency.

So, in conclusion: Bargetto Chardonnay: Much better at being a chardonnay than former pop star Tiffany is at acting. Try some, and just tell me I'm wrong.


Speaking of movies, have you ever wondered what it would be like if someone tried to remake The Birds with community theater actors, a Mad Libs-level script and five dollars for special effects? Well, wonder no more. I present: Birdemic



I think we're gonna need a bigger wine bottle. Or a couple more regular ones. That would work too.


*Yes, I know they changed their name to make it stupider. I just refuse to acknowledge it, on the principle that, eventually, reality will bend to my will and it will change back.
**Non-Miller.
***Done by Lorenzo Lamas and Former Pop Star Tiffany, among others. Not by me. I was the one eating the baguette.

Winesday: You Look Like a Petite Syrah Kind of Reader

Boekenoogen Petite Syrah
Color: Red
Composition: Petite Syrah
Consumed with: Prime New York strip steak from Costco, possibly our last in a while because Cameron is reading The Omnivore's Dilemma, which means that we are learning* a lot about the Evil of Corn.

Notes**:
Me: Strong, but fruity.
C: Notes of berry, port on the nose, balanced tannins, refined for a petite syrah.
Me: What he said.

Purchased:
At the Boekenoogen tasting room in Carmel Valley. We were there with Cameron's friend and former college roommate*** Ken, who was visiting from Toronto, in town for an Eclipse convention**** and who has a sideline business importing wine into Ontario. So he's quite knowledgeable about the whole grape juice thing and a good person to go tasting with, particularly when you get to witness interactions that go something like this:*****
Woman pouring in the tasting room to Ken, on the subject of choosing what wine to taste next: "You look like a petite syrah kind of guy."
Ken: "Umm."
Cameron/Me: (snickering)
WPITTR: "I mean, not like you're petite. I mean, petite syrah is like a big, heavy kid of wine and, uh. . ."
Ken: "Sure, um, yeah."
Cameron/Me: (cracking up)
WPITTR: "Okay, I'm going to stop talking now."
Ken: "I'll try the petite syrah."



*Some of us more voluntarily than others.
**I have now purchased a notebook and written "Wine Notes" on the cover, advancing myself one step closer to complete unbearability.
***You could tell, because when Cameron dozed off that evening, Ken took the opportunity to try and pitch quarters into his mouth.
****They claimed this had more to do with open source development platforms than books about sparkly vampires, but I remain suspicious.
*****Okay, so there was only one. But still, it was worth it.

Winesday!

Another day, another labored portmanteau word.




I don't like wine quite as much as shoes (this is a good thing, for many obvious reasons), but I am rather fond of it. So, I thought, why not write about it? I mean, aside from the fact that I know very little about wine writing, and while tasting I tend to make things up, like "nuances of chalk" and "I'm getting pretzels on the nose*". But no matter. No one's going to go out and buy something because I wrote about it, so I figure I can just go ahead and say whatever.

So, Pierce Tourbillion. Vital statistics: 43% grenache, 37% Syrah, 20% petite syrah. Color: red. Consumed with: various leftovers, while sitting out on the balcony on a sunny Sunday, reading and enjoying the view of the Wheel Works across the street. Tasting notes: Medium-bodied, easy on the tannins. Good afternoon wine. Pairs well with an early Terry Pratchett.

Purchased: At the Pierce tasting room in Monterey, found entirely by accident when we were looking for another place (chosen at random) that we later learned to have closed. But it was late and parking near Cannery Row was expensive, so when we saw that this place was open we decided to give it a try. And as random decisions go, this was one of the better ones, because the wines were delicious and interesting and reasonably priced, and the guy running the tasting room (who turned out to be the son of the owners) was friendly and knowledgeable. Plus, I came up with a tagline for one of their other wines**, of which I am fairly proud. I also gave a moderately tipsy*** lecture on the use of twitter as a social networking tool, from the point of view of the consumer, of which I am less proud, if only for the length of it.

But, such is wine.



*Actual statement, not related to snackfood-tossing.
** More on that later.
***It was a good tasting room, and I am a lightweight.