Head over Healdsburg

Wine country is, as a rule, unselfconsciously beautiful - catering to pastoral dreams with verdant, rolling hills covered by precisely planted vines, and filled with friendly residents who truly would not rather be anywhere else. I don't know what made me fall so hard for Healdsburg, but I'm certainly smitten and not afraid to say so. There's very little intimidation or pretense and, at least on the Saturday I visited, just enough of a crowd to give downtown Healdsburg a bit of a buzz - nowhere near the throngs choking the tasting rooms along St. Helena Highway just a little further east.
It was a quick tasting day, but J and L were good sports about waking up bright and early to make the drive from San Francisco. The first stop was Hop Kiln, where I was surprised to learn their winemaker, whose first bottles are just starting to be poured, was only 26. The distinctive building made it a great setting, and we also enjoyed seeing the various mustards, vinegars, and other gourmet delights they were selling inside.

After this, we spent most of our time in the tasting rooms around downtown Healdsburg, but only stopped in after spending some time exploring around the town square. The highlights were Thumbprint and La Crema, where we ended up spending more of the afternoon than intended because everyone was more than willing to chat for awhile, even as the crowds were noticeably increasing. Especially delightful was a dessert gewurztraminer from La Crema, paired with a deliciously fresh panna cotta. I could have eaten that combination for days.

My only regret was that the day was gone far too quickly. Maybe it was the town that charmed me, or the grounded friendliness of everyone we met, or maybe just the deliciously-made wines, but I have a long list of wineries for the next trip, and can hardly wait.

where you from, where you goin??

I began with the goal of exploring terroir, and its importance in winemaking, but what follows is more of a random musing on (dis)location.

Having spent the better part of the last several months away from from, en route to, or departing any of several places that were, are, or could be "home," I'm amazed at how quickly the mind adjusts to the permanent impermanence of rootlessness, modern nomadism in the cult of Ryan Bingham, if you will. But despite the comfort of coming home to the same spot on the couch and curling up, that same safety exists in the routine of constant movement: Pack that favorite sweater; ID and laptop ready to go through security; Sunny the flight attendant happily taking drink orders again. And, of course, traipsing through time zones as if keeping a regular schedule has gone the way of parachute pants has led to a newfound need for regular caffeination (oh, wait)...

Between browsing numerous coffee shop menus, hoarding fragrant teas from various locales and checking my watch to make sure it is, actually, the time and day I'm assuming it is, I've been giving some thought to what it means to be from someplace. No matter how much you're on the go, a feeling of regularity is crucial to maintaining one's sanity, and you can't help but start to pick up bits and pieces that give a hint of where you've been - no amount of world-weary savoir faire can completely erase your origins, regardless of how bountiful those frequent flier miles may be.

And it is not only us, as people, that are shaped by our environment. For wines, in particular, the anchor of origin is not only character-shaping but a key identifying factor. In some cases, there is no more important characteristic than where you're from, and hence the premium placed on certain AOC versus a vin de pays. Most obvious is the example of Champagne, where the elements of terroir, winemaking tradition and marketing have so fortuitously collided that the region is synonymous with high-grade sparkling wines. Much as different regions are known for different styles, however, terroir is truly the foundation of a distinctive wine. Determined by the interaction of climate, soil and topography, terroir determines what grapes will flourish where, and lends distinguishing traits to its harvest, which are then manipulated by winemakers to form what we finally drink. And eventually, over decades of production, those wines develop a unifying set of characteristics that identify them in style as a Bordeaux or a Burgundy; a New World or an Old World wine.

Wines in this way carry an enviable sense of place, but that strict definition by point of origin is simultaneously suffocating in its inescapability: What if that New Zealand shiraz wants nothing more than to be like its brother Rhone? While we may from time to time benefit from the anonymity of blending into a completely foreign environment, no such fluidity of being exists for poor shiraz. So while at times I want only for a clear idea of where "home" may be found, I'll raise my glass to being able to decide that for myself, wherever it may be.

Tasting Notes: 2005 Peju Estate Cab

For those of you who are Wall Street Journal readers, you may be familiar with the idea of "Open That Bottle Night" (OTBN), when the editors encourage you to finally drink that bottle you've been hanging onto. This Peju has been sitting on my wine rack for almost a year, with special occasions having come and gone. I've meant to open it so many times, and wondered on numerous occasions whether it would have the same balance of power and delicacy that made me fall in love with it when I first tasted it. As always happens, however, the bottle has sat lonely and neglected until tonight. It's oft-given advice - that you've just got to open that bottle sometime; that you should make the wine the occasion rather than perpetually postpone its opening in favor of a worthy event - but this advice is often ignored by wine lovers who would rather let that prized label and vintage sit aside collecting dust than open an unforgettable bottle for a more-than-forgettable evening.

Well, after surviving traffic and hurrying back to pick up my prize, I cradled the Peju under my arm as I rushed down the street (half an hour late) to my favorite restaurant Piccolo, more than excited about finally opening it up in the company of great friends. Nevermind the fact that we were belatedly celebrating cheerful news received in the dead of winter, just as the first hints of spring are revealing themselves; it was the perfect night to enjoy this wine with good company and good food.

As noted in the winery's tasting notes, it's an alcoholic and slightly tannic cab, delicious and enjoyable even for its youth. We let it open up for almost 45 minutes, after which the darkly floral notes became apparent not just in the scent overflowing the wine glasses but very clearly across the palate when enjoyed in slowly savored sips.

We weren't quite finished after wrapping up this bottle, so also tasted a 2005 Paitin Barbaresco from Sori' Paitin that was a ligher, brighter counterbalance to the deep Peju. Also a bit young, we found this one to be almost Burgundian in style with the floral notes providing a softer way to end the evening.

Despite having no better occasion at this point than creating the opportunity to gather close company for a good bottle of wine, none of the food, the friends nor the wine were forgettable. There truly is no better way to pass off the stress of every other part of your day. It's hard to make the time and effort, but if I could, I'd make OTBN a monthly event; at the very least, every couple of months. Pick that bottle up, grab a few friends and open it. After all, it does no one any good, least of all the wine, if it is only passing away the time in a dark corner, stuck alone with a little stub of cork.

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Piccolo
5 Dudley Ave
Venice
310-314-3222

Tasted:
2005 Peju Estate Cabernet Sauvignon, Rutherford
2005 Paitin Barbaresco Sori' Paitin

Hungary for Something New

In the most recent installment of his column The Pour, Eric Asimov explains and explores the possibilities of Hungarian wine, expounding on the benefits of continued exploration for all wine drinkers, be you an intrepid novice or a ratable connoisseur:

"Yet no matter how alluring the desire to fixate on a particular set of wines, experimentation has great virtues. Practically speaking, wines from lesser-known regions are often cheaper. But more to the point, drinking wine with blinders on can deprive you of unexpected, deeply satisfying, even thrilling bottles."

While I thoroughly enjoyed this entree to Hungarian wines outside of the standard tokaji aszu, and noted to add these to my "must try" list, what I most enjoyed about this column was Asimov's appeal to his readers, to be more open-minded and try something new.

I first learned about and to love wine from my father, who is responsible for the foundation of my wine knowledge. He approached the assemblage of his wine cellar with the academic diligence that he applies to all problems, learning about each grape's character and acquiring not only a significant amount of wine to taste, but the corresponding literature to supplement his experiential learnings. Before I could drink wine, he gave me strict instruction in wine etiquette, broke down the elements of particular importance when tasting a wine, and drilled into my memory the particularly exceptional vintage years for his favored wine regions. And of course, when I began to drink more wine, I started out with what I knew, falling into the tendency we all have of choosing the familiar. In this case, it was shaped by my father's favorites - subtle, complex Bordeaux and high-impact California Cabernets.

Given my curious nature, however, I wanted to show off what new things I had learned on my own, and what I could teach my father in return. And so my favorite question when consulting on a wine selection is, "What is your most interesting or surprising wine?" In this manner, I have learned about new varietals and tasted from regions I never would have chosen. Yes, it's easier to describe what I know, but so much more rewarding to come away with a more enlightened or broadened view of the wine landscape. Whether it is a novel and unexpected food-wine pairing, or a taste of something from an entirely unfamiliar region, the sense of fun and adventure in trying the unexpected is what makes tasting so interesting. It is easy to choose the "best" Napa Valley Cab or Grand Chateau Bordeaux when you have enough of a baseline knowledge of that region - but it is so much more exciting to open yourself to something new. Do me a favor, and next time you order a glass of wine, don't stick to what you know - put yourself out there, ask a couple of questions, and see where you end up.

pour, simmer & stir

I opened up a rather disappointing bottle of Portuguese red wine the other night, a 2007 Alianca Foral Douro. It's the first I've ever tried this wine, but I should have known we were off to a bad start when I broke one of my corkscrews on trying to pull out the cork. After letting the wine sit for a bit, I pondered over a glass, but you know it's never a good thing when you keep thinking to yourself, "ok, well maybe the next sip will be better." It was flat, tasted like sour cherries in a musty sort of way, and never really gave me anything interesting to want more.

So now I have a mostly full bottle of wine sitting on my counter, but I don't want it to go to waste. Well, it was close to dinner time, so I decided to use it in scraping together a beef stew. Turns out a mediocre wine makes a wonderful stew! RIP corkscrew, but I'll be enjoying the remnants of the stew for a few more days. The (very) ad hoc recipe below, though I guess you could put together whatever you happen to have in the fridge. Forgive me in advance for my poor recipe composing:

1/2 bottle dry red wine
1/2 lb beef shoulder (lamb would also be a good substitute)
1 carrot, chopped (sliced? I'm no recipe writer)
Portobello mushrooms
Salt
Fresh black pepper
Fresh mint
Olive oil
Butter
Sugar
32 oz chicken stock (or beef if that's handy)

Heat olive oil and butter in bottom of pot. Season meat with salt and pepper, then brown meat on all sides in olive oil/butter. Set beef aside. Pour in red wine and boil for about 25 mins, then add in beef, carrot, mint, mushrooms, onions, garlic or other flavors if you'd like (this wasn't very scientific). Let boil and then simmer, covered, for about 2.5 hours. Flavor with salt, pepper, and some sugar and let simmer for another 30 mins or so. Careful not to over-salt...

The Place: The MUST

Downtown LA is a bit of a confusing place, identity-wise. Until recently, there wasn't much there (except the Lakers, and that's pretty big), but over the last few years and even through the worst of the recession, it seemed a new place was opening up every week. It's an off-putting juxtaposition with upmarket lofts just a block from Skid Row (really - we saw a gorgeous building while walking around, and the next block over was a row of tents, and they were not waiting for the new Twilight); however, there are some truly fun restaurants and bars that have popped up in the area. Just keep your wits about you, and there's some great places to discover.

Lovely Lady N and I dropped into The MUST (wallpaper above), a wine bar right by the downtown gallery district (and Skid Row) that opened this summer. Leave your wine snobbery behind; it's a fun place with the right after-work ambiance and an approachable, affordable list of wines by the glass, carafe, or bottle. Their beer selection is decent as well. The waitstaff is friendly and helpful, and the crowd was a mix of after-work and more laid-back patrons, mostly in 2s or 3s, engaged in lighthearted conversation while huddled close over their glasses.

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The MUST

118 W. 5th Street (at Spring)

Los Angeles

Tasted: 2007 Layer Cake Primitivo

Tasting Notes: Chappellet 2007 Mountain Cuvee

Choosing wine for a party of strangers is never an easy task, but with helpful guidance from our waiter (Joseph the musician), we picked out this gem from BOA W. Hollywood's wine list. This mostly Cabernet / Merlot blend was a crowd pleaser and a surprising wine; also, a great value from a Napa-heavy wine list with some heavy hitters (and fairly reasonable mark-up, at least on this wine).

Chappellet is a Napa winery growing in Pritchard Hill, making large, Bordeaux-style wines of the type we tasted tonight. The Mountain Cuvee is a heavy, juicy wine that is sweet around the edges, though the lighter berry flavors don't take away from its darker notes. It went perfectly with the rich sauces, sides, and red meat dishes being shared at the table. What was unique - described by one of our dinner companions as "offbeat" - was a eucalyptus / minty finish (as described by Joseph). While I haven't played koala recently, I absolutely knew what he meant after my first taste, and wholly enjoyed the effect. I would describe it as a slightly woodsy-herbal finish that leaves your palate feeling dry but refreshed. For me, this twist distinguished the wine from the other tried and true Bordeaux and Meritage wines that are so popular at these big, steak dinners.

At $29 off of the winery's online shop, I'd call it a great value; some other searching turned up alleged $25 price tags.

A brief side note: My one complaint was that the wine list stated a 2006 Chappellet; the manager explained that they only carried 2007, and their wine list must not have been updated. Clearly enjoyed the wine anyhow, and the year was not an issue in this particular case, but would have appreciated a heads-up upfront. Word to the wise, however, to remember to double check the label, esp if it is a situation in which the vintage year makes a difference.

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BOA
9200 Sunset Blvd
West Hollywood

Tasted: Chappellet 2007 Mountain Cuvee (Meritage)
Cabernet Sauvignon / Merlot / Malbec / Cabernet Franc / Petit Verdot