Jerold A. Greenfield's Blog: The Wine Whisperer

My new book, "Secrets of the Wine Whisperer," is now out...after several years and several revisions (you know how it is). It's subtitled "How I learned to drink wine and found ecstasy, joy, peace, happiness, life, and salvation."

About 12 years ago, some friends poured us the glass of wine that Did It For Us. It was all downhill from there, as we started learning about wine, buying, traveling, buying, drinking, buying, and collecting. And buying. In the words of a previous era, what a long, strange trip it's been.

Hope you'll give it a read. It will be available on Amazon in just a few weeks, and also directly from me at www.thewine-whisperer.com. Cheers!Jerold A. GreenfieldSecrets of the Wine Whisperer

Every wine lover knows that there’s seldom a shortage of decent Shirazes from Australia. It’s not every day that we can enjoy a Mollydooker Velvet Glove or Enchanted Path, or a Clarendon Astralis. But we can, every day, enjoy a mouthfilling, bold rendition of the grape the Aussies do so well.

Which brings me to Oliverhill (yes, it’s one word) Red Silk Shiraz from one of my favorite places, McLaren Vale. One thing I love about McLaren Vale is that it’s literally right down the road from Adelaide. Closer, even, than Napa is to San Francisco. You get off the plane, hit the A13 to the Southern Expressway, and you’re there in about 40 minutes. It’s great.

When we were there in January of 2011, the entire area was overrun by enormous flocks of cockatoos that basically stripped every leaf off every tree, but that didn’t diminish our enjoyment (or our sampling) one bit.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t aware of Oliverhill’s excellent wines during our last visit, but did discover the Red Silk in Costco a few weeks ago. Bought a bottle, tried it, went back, bought a case.

The nose has a rich, loamy barnyard scent, along with overtones of cedar. Even with a healthy 14% alcohol (give or take), the wine is soft on the palate, with notes of caramel, vanilla, and some blueberry on the finish.

Being a marketing person, I wasn’t that fond of the label, because I felt that the wine had more class and distinction than the design communicates. It’s pretty serious stuff, and for the price, it’s hard to beat. WW 91-92

“America’s grape.” That’s what we call Zinfandel, because the history of its cultivation goes back to the Gold Rush days. Unlike any other wine we enjoy, Zinfandel is uniquely ours. I call it the “Fourth of July Wine” because it’s a bit sweet, very fruity, highly alcoholic, and goes great with barbecued ribs, chicken, burgers, all that grilled stuff.

But people who study the genetics of wine grapes (and I’m sure there must be at least two) tell us that Zin actually comes from Croatia by way of Italy, where it’s known as Primitivo. To be a bit more specific, it’s now grown in the Salento region of Puglia, in the heel of the boot.

They also grow the blending buddies Malvasia and Negro Amaro, but that’s a story for another blog.

The southern climate of the Salento area packs the grapes with jammy fruit flavors. Try the Vecchia Torre Primitivo Salento, and you’ll get blackberry, anise, and pepper, along with cherry, raspberry and spice.

Gonzo Grapes: The Wines You Never Heard Of

Somewhere in misty memory, I recall that people make wine from around 220 different varieties of grapes. So, aside from the biggies like Chardonnay, Merlot, Cabernet, and about 10-15 others, the rest are fairly obscure. Some are used as blending grapes, or bottled as single varietals and never leave the region where they’re grown.

That’s where the fun comes in – discovering wines (some great, some not so much) made from varietals that mystify all but Master Sommeliers and the most dedicated wine lifers. (“Here, try a glass of this Gaglioppo…”)

While every winegrowing region has its own gonzo grapes, I’m especially partial to seeking out those from Italy because they seem to be the most fun, and offer delightful surprises. So here’s the first in a series of suggestions for the next time you find yourself combing through the bottom shelves in the wine shop.

PRATELLO DISCOBOLO 2008
Discobolo means “discus thrower,” so this is a proprietary name for the blend of three black grapes, only one of which is familiar. The major grape in this blend is Gropello, Italian for pine cone,” a reference to the shape of the tight clusters.

The region, Garda, is in Lombardy along Lake Garda, halfway between Milan and Venice, and they produce about 2.5 million bottles a year, none of which I’ve ever seen in my neighborhood wine shop, or even in Costco. The two major wines from the region are Garda Classico Gropello and Garda Classico Chiarello, both made from the same grape.

In the case of this wine, the blend is 85% Gropello, 10% Marzemino (another gonzo grape), and a dash of Barbera, which is finally a familiar name. The bottle I tried was clear ruby red in the glass, with cherry notes on the nose. Lots going on midpalate, with plum, bitter raspberry, spice, black pepper, and roses. Lovely.
Jerry Greenfield

HOW TO TASTE WINE
By
Jerry Greenfield

It has recently occurred to me (albeit belatedly) that I’ve been writing about wine for quite a while, and have never touched on the most basic of topics. I’ve dealt with the different grape varietals, the growing regions of the world, bargain bottles, and all like that, but not what may be the most important thing of all: what to look for (and taste for) so that you can appreciate wine more deeply.

Like most things, what you get out of enjoying wine depends on what you bring to it. The more you know, the more you’ll be able to appreciate. So this month, let’s take a step back and find out what it is about the experience of wine that makes it so engaging and fascinating. Aside from water and milk, it is, after all, one of the most ancient beverages.

Okay, so. All wines have basically five aroma and taste components, so when you swirl, sniff, and sip, try to identify them. They are:
• Fruit
• Floral
• Spice
• Vegetal
• Oak and oil

FRUIT FLAVORS --Let’s take them in order. Wine is made from grapes, but the last thing it tastes like is grape juice. That’s because the fermentation process rearranges the fruit sugars, giving some white wines (like Sauvignon Blanc) notes of grapefruit, say, or pineapple. Obviously, white wines will have white and pink fruit flavors, like peach, pear, lychee, and maybe quince. Reds, depending on the varietal, will show blueberry, blackberry, currant, cherry, and the like. Example: Pinot Noirs made in the Sonoma and Central Coast areas of California often give you a very marked strawberry flavor at first. So when you sip, close your eyes and try to decide what the flavors remind you of. Go with the first thing that comes to your mind.

FLORAL NOTES – The sensation of flowers is an important dimension in wine, especially in the better wines that offer more complexity and levels of flavor. Again, the division between whites and reds is pretty clear. White wines often give you white flowers: honeysuckle, jasmine, gardenia, and the like. In red wines, you’ll sometimes sense roses. The aroma and flavor of violets is often quite pronounced in wines from Bordeaux and the Rhone.

SPICE – These flavors and aromas are more common in red wines than in whites, because they mainly come from fermenting and/or aging wine in oak barrels. Probably the two most common notes you’ll encounter are cinnamon and nutmeg, the former being the more usual. Black pepper is very common, especially in Shiraz from Australia.

VEGETAL – Don’t be put off by the idea of vegetables in wine. There are several flavors and aromas that add a lot of interest and dimension to both withes and reds. These flavors run the gamut from bell pepper to subtle hints of hay, new-mown grass, dried leaves, and the like. In whites, like Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand, there’s often an herbaceous note of hay or grass. Some Old World reds might give off a little bit of dried leaves, or even scents that remind you of the floor of a forest. Sounds icky, but it’s not.

In fact, there’s a French word – "garrigue" – that describes a flavor in wine sensed as a mix of sage, tarragon, thyme, and similar herbs.

OAK AND OIL – This is a toughie. I mentioned above that oak does all kinds of things to wine, most of them good, especially when the oak is applied in moderation. There is a very popular style of California Chardonnay where the flavor and aroma of oak is strong and unmistakable. Depending on how the barrels are made, you may taste a bit of vanilla or toast. Oak does all kinds of things to reds, such as imparting flavors of smoke, toffee, and caramel, among others.

Of course, there are many wines (especially whites) made with no exposure to oak at all. The wines from Sancerre and Pouilly in France’s Loire valley are often made this way, as are many Chardonnays from Burgundy and Chablis.

Oil is a different story. There is a range of flavors that fall into this category, and they’re not unpleasant. In fact, the hint of fusel oil or petrol in some whites is highly desirable. You won’t find many wines that contain these flavors, but they do exist, and you’ll know it when you taste it.

All that being said, here’s my wine of the month. It’s not cheap, but I’ve been writing about bargain bottles for months, so it’s time for a splurge.

Domaine de la Vougeraie Le Clos Blanc de Vougeot Monopole 2003 – Found this one at Total Wine and bought it for my birthday. The Cos de Vougeot is one of the most desirable and famous winegrowing areas in Burgundy, and this Chardonnay offers sweet oak, smoke, and toast along with flavors of quince, pear, apricot, and other stone fruit. In short, there’s a lot going on in the bottle. It’s round and unctuous on the palate with a long finish that spreads out across the back of the tongue. Yummy stuff, and at 13.5% alcohol, it may give you the giggles. About $80, and I give it 94 points.

Sample widely. Write me. And see my website at www.thewine-whisperer.com

Many things in life are a puzzle to me. Almost everything, in fact. But among the most confounding is the relationship between how wines are rated by critics and how they’re priced in the stores.

Let’s consider ratings first. All the major wine publications, like Wine Spectator, Wine Enthusiast, Decanter and others, have panels of supposed experts who sample hundreds of wines and give them scores on a 100-point scale. Anything below 80 is generally considered not very worthwhile. But when scores get up around 94 and higher, those wines are much to be desired…and much to be paid for.

But is there really a strict relationship between how good a wine is and how much it costs? The answer is…not really. Wines are priced according to many considerations. Makes sense that if you produce 200 cases of a wine you want to charge more for it than if you produced 16,000. Economies of scale, supply and demand, that sort of thing.

But then there’s the marketing angle. A wine is worth what producers say it’s worth…and how much they think they can get for it. Nice heavy bottle, fancy label…kind of like perfume. The market decides. In the case of a so-called “cult” wine, like the famous Screaming Eagle, the combination of quality, rarity, and legend causes collectors to shell out a hefty $750 per bottle, but you’ll never get it at that price because you’re not on the list…or the waiting list…or the waiting list for the waiting list.

As an avid reader of the major wine magazines, I pay special attention to highly-rated wines, and I covet them. (I know…coveting is against the 10th Commandment, but still...) But, as a resource-deprived individual, I pay special attention to the prices. And it simply staggers me that there is so often absolutely no earthly correspondence between what the critics call quality and the price of the bottle.

This hit me pretty hard recently when I was eagerly devouring my latest issue of Wine Spectator. The last 25 or so pages of every issue are devoted to mini-reviews of hundreds of wines, with the points assigned, tasting notes, and prices. I can’t read it without laughing, choking, or suffering some extreme physical reaction. Here’s why.

They listed an Italian wine called Campo Alla Sughera, a somewhat unusual blend of Petit Verdot and Cabernet Sauvignon. Only about 400 cases of the stuff were produced, and it’s priced it at $175 a bottle. The critics gave it 92 points.

Three lines down from that item appears another Italian wine: Mazzei Toscana Badiola. Another red blend, another 92-point rating. The price? $15 a bottle. Fifteen dollars! And to put the cherry on top, they made almost 17,000 cases, so the chances of mortals such as we finding it are pretty darn good.

Another example that caused me a few gastrointestinal eructations: Le Macchiole 2009, made entirely from Merlot. It’s $315 a bottle, and got 93 points. Now look down that same page, where you’ll find Tenuta di Trecciano, also rated 93 points, for which you’d (gladly) pay a mere $30. What’s up with this?

This same disconnect exists throughout the wine world, but is less staggering in some places than others. This is why I seek out wines from relatively unknown or less-than-popular regions, made from grapes that are somewhat off the beaten track. Example: The area of Bandol in France’s Provence region makes great wines from Grenache, Mourvedre, and some other varietals. Since the area isn’t Bordeaux or Tuscany, producers are hard pressed to charge above around $50 a bottle. This same issue of Wine Spectator featured Domaine du Gros Nore Bandol, rated 94 (!) points, for a mere $38 a bottle. Unless I’m completely mistaken, a 94 point Bandol that costs 10% of the price of a 94-point Super Tuscan seems like a better deal. Of course, it all depends on what you like. Many people would pay more for a 91 point Burgundy than a 91-point Zinfandel. Burgundy is Burgundy.

Sample widely.