Syrah is a go-to grape
What’s the first grape varietal that grabs your attention when you are presented with a wine list or wine shop selection? For me, the first answer that comes to mind is Syrah. It’s a wine associated with big, bold reds but the grape is surprisingly versatile, inviting any number of winemaking styles.
Syrah is known by many names, including Shiraz. The latter is used most commonly in Australia and South Africa, but also, strangely in Canada, where side-by-side growers might each refer to their vines by the different names. They are, though, the same grape.
The grape was first made famous by growers in northern Rhone in France, notably on the hill known as Hermitage. Strangely enough, though, when we think of Hermitage now, it is often a reference to Penfolds Grange Hermitage. Considered by experts to be one of the world’s great wines, the Australian maker included Hermitage in the name until 1989, when the international market required the name only be used in reference to the French location. It has been Penfolds Grange ever since, but if you mention Grange Hermitage, even though a quarter century has passed, few wine lovers won’t know what you are talking about.
Here in BC, I have fond memories of the early Okanagan Syrah wines, especially those of Nichol Vineyards. Alex Nichol was the first vineyard owner in BC to plant the grape and I recall that his dream was to make a big, bold Syrah, like the Shiraz that Australia was having so much success with. It wasn’t to happen though. The Nichol vineyard is a few hundred feet above lake level in Naramata, and the grapes just don’t develop the sweetness needed to make the wine Alex had in mind. It was, nonetheless, a terrific wine and current owner Ross Hackworth has continued to have great success with the grape.
While the Rhone area, California and Australia might continue to be the dominant forces in Syrah (and Shiraz) production, other regions have emerged. There aren’t a lot of wines that I would choose over well-made Syrahs from the Washington, for instance. On our trips to Walla Walla we have come to love the results. If I have ever tasted a poorly made Syrah made in that state I have no recollection of it. In Idaho we often pick up a bottle or two from Coeur d’Alene Cellars, which makes several different Syrahs, all from grapes grown in Washington.
Another of our favourite Syrahs comes from Sicily, the Italian island that has emerged on the world market in recent years, producing some of the very best wine values to be found.
And having mentioned how versatile the grape was, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the kick we got out of attending a wine tasting event in Calgary years ago. We were mightily impressed by a sparkling Australian Shiraz. I don’t think the sparkling version has made many inroads into the market, but I was inspired to have a batch of Syrah made at the local U-brew, after which we carbonated it before bottling. It was a big hit with our friends.
You say po-tay-toe, I say po-tah-toe. You say Shiraz, I say Syrah. But let’s not call the whole thing off. There is plenty to enjoy in the wines made under either name. Just don’t same mistake with Petite Sirah, which is a different grape altogether.
January 2013 - La Dolce Vita
Syrah is known by many names, including Shiraz. The latter is used most commonly in Australia and South Africa, but also, strangely in Canada, where side-by-side growers might each refer to their vines by the different names. They are, though, the same grape.
The grape was first made famous by growers in northern Rhone in France, notably on the hill known as Hermitage. Strangely enough, though, when we think of Hermitage now, it is often a reference to Penfolds Grange Hermitage. Considered by experts to be one of the world’s great wines, the Australian maker included Hermitage in the name until 1989, when the international market required the name only be used in reference to the French location. It has been Penfolds Grange ever since, but if you mention Grange Hermitage, even though a quarter century has passed, few wine lovers won’t know what you are talking about.
Here in BC, I have fond memories of the early Okanagan Syrah wines, especially those of Nichol Vineyards. Alex Nichol was the first vineyard owner in BC to plant the grape and I recall that his dream was to make a big, bold Syrah, like the Shiraz that Australia was having so much success with. It wasn’t to happen though. The Nichol vineyard is a few hundred feet above lake level in Naramata, and the grapes just don’t develop the sweetness needed to make the wine Alex had in mind. It was, nonetheless, a terrific wine and current owner Ross Hackworth has continued to have great success with the grape.
While the Rhone area, California and Australia might continue to be the dominant forces in Syrah (and Shiraz) production, other regions have emerged. There aren’t a lot of wines that I would choose over well-made Syrahs from the Washington, for instance. On our trips to Walla Walla we have come to love the results. If I have ever tasted a poorly made Syrah made in that state I have no recollection of it. In Idaho we often pick up a bottle or two from Coeur d’Alene Cellars, which makes several different Syrahs, all from grapes grown in Washington.
Another of our favourite Syrahs comes from Sicily, the Italian island that has emerged on the world market in recent years, producing some of the very best wine values to be found.
And having mentioned how versatile the grape was, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the kick we got out of attending a wine tasting event in Calgary years ago. We were mightily impressed by a sparkling Australian Shiraz. I don’t think the sparkling version has made many inroads into the market, but I was inspired to have a batch of Syrah made at the local U-brew, after which we carbonated it before bottling. It was a big hit with our friends.
You say po-tay-toe, I say po-tah-toe. You say Shiraz, I say Syrah. But let’s not call the whole thing off. There is plenty to enjoy in the wines made under either name. Just don’t same mistake with Petite Sirah, which is a different grape altogether.
January 2013 - La Dolce Vita
chardonnay is ready for a rebirth
It seems hard to believe that it was about 20 years ago that expat New Zealander John Simes arrived to work at Mission Hill Family Estate in West Kelowna, and set about changing the wine map as it appeared then. Within a couple of years his Chardonnays were gaining international recognition.
The 1994 vintage was named the best Chardonnay in London’s prestigious International Wine and Spirit Competition and it left judges and buyers alike scrambling to figure out where the Okanagan was. Shortly after, Mission Hill became the first winner of the Canadian Winery of the Year award.
We were introduced to that 1994 vintage by a friend, and it became an instant favourite. Full-bodied, creamy and toasty, it was a wine that was easy to drink on its own, not really needing food to bring out its qualities.
Coincidentally, it was right around that time that the ABC—Anything But Chardonnay—movement started. It certainly was no fault of Simes or Mission Hill. California wineries had invested heavily in Chardonnay and they were producing wines in much the same style as the Canadian icon. But heavily oaked wines don’t always show the best qualities of a grape and Chardonnay began to take a beating, among critics and consumers.
The backlash was probably more a media thing than a general consumer trend—Chardonnay is still one of the most popular varietals in North American markets—but other whites suddenly gained in popularity. New Zealand, in particular, was getting a handle on Sauvignon Blanc and wineries like Cloudy Bay were soon having trouble meeting the demand. Sauv Blancs from the Sancerre region of France’s Loire Valley were soon popular in restaurants and on store shelves, too.
In the Okanagan, Rieslings by Wild Goose and Pinot Blancs by Blue Mountain grabbed attention. And sparkling wine underwent a bit of a renaissance, with Sumac Ridge and Summerhill both producing fine samples made in the traditional style.
I think it took more than a decade for the ABC mindset started to settle out, and it came largely because winemakers began to take different approaches with the grapes. The biggest change was in the plethora of releases of unoaked Chardonnays. Crisp and fruity, they allowed consumers to rediscover just why Chardonnay is such a great wine grape. Oaked Chardonnays were made with a little more attention to subtlety and the malolactic fermentation wasn’t always carried to extremes. Malo, as winemakers call it, is a secondary fermentation, usually in oak barrels, that transforms malic acid to lactic acid. A wine that tastes distinctly of green apple becomes soft and buttery in the process.
It’s probably not unreasonable to credit the ABC movement with encouraging winemakers to push the boundaries of the grape. Chardonnay makes an excellent sparkling wine, the unoaked versions are terrific with seafoods and even dessert wines can be produced when botrytis, a fungus that draws out the water from grapes and concentrates their flavours, is used to advantage.
And, of course, the oaky, buttery Chardonnays didn’t become spectacular popular in the 1980s without reason. They have their own distinct appeal and they still remain quite popular with the consuming public.
What we are left with now is a wonderful array of choices. Chardonnays are made in countless styles, some meant to age and others to be consumed immediately. Chardonnay grapes are still one of the most heavily planted of all varieties, and they are grown in more countries and regions than any other grape.
I’ll admit that it’s only recently that I have even bothered to sample Chardonnays when I visit wineries and Angela and I are both still often surprised at how much we are enjoying them. We even purchased a few bottles on our last visit to the Okanagan.
The lesson, I suppose, is that a rest can also be as good a change. Our unplanned sabbatical has reopened our minds to Chardonnay and I suspect we are not alone among wine lovers.
December 2013 – La Dolce Vita
The 1994 vintage was named the best Chardonnay in London’s prestigious International Wine and Spirit Competition and it left judges and buyers alike scrambling to figure out where the Okanagan was. Shortly after, Mission Hill became the first winner of the Canadian Winery of the Year award.
We were introduced to that 1994 vintage by a friend, and it became an instant favourite. Full-bodied, creamy and toasty, it was a wine that was easy to drink on its own, not really needing food to bring out its qualities.
Coincidentally, it was right around that time that the ABC—Anything But Chardonnay—movement started. It certainly was no fault of Simes or Mission Hill. California wineries had invested heavily in Chardonnay and they were producing wines in much the same style as the Canadian icon. But heavily oaked wines don’t always show the best qualities of a grape and Chardonnay began to take a beating, among critics and consumers.
The backlash was probably more a media thing than a general consumer trend—Chardonnay is still one of the most popular varietals in North American markets—but other whites suddenly gained in popularity. New Zealand, in particular, was getting a handle on Sauvignon Blanc and wineries like Cloudy Bay were soon having trouble meeting the demand. Sauv Blancs from the Sancerre region of France’s Loire Valley were soon popular in restaurants and on store shelves, too.
In the Okanagan, Rieslings by Wild Goose and Pinot Blancs by Blue Mountain grabbed attention. And sparkling wine underwent a bit of a renaissance, with Sumac Ridge and Summerhill both producing fine samples made in the traditional style.
I think it took more than a decade for the ABC mindset started to settle out, and it came largely because winemakers began to take different approaches with the grapes. The biggest change was in the plethora of releases of unoaked Chardonnays. Crisp and fruity, they allowed consumers to rediscover just why Chardonnay is such a great wine grape. Oaked Chardonnays were made with a little more attention to subtlety and the malolactic fermentation wasn’t always carried to extremes. Malo, as winemakers call it, is a secondary fermentation, usually in oak barrels, that transforms malic acid to lactic acid. A wine that tastes distinctly of green apple becomes soft and buttery in the process.
It’s probably not unreasonable to credit the ABC movement with encouraging winemakers to push the boundaries of the grape. Chardonnay makes an excellent sparkling wine, the unoaked versions are terrific with seafoods and even dessert wines can be produced when botrytis, a fungus that draws out the water from grapes and concentrates their flavours, is used to advantage.
And, of course, the oaky, buttery Chardonnays didn’t become spectacular popular in the 1980s without reason. They have their own distinct appeal and they still remain quite popular with the consuming public.
What we are left with now is a wonderful array of choices. Chardonnays are made in countless styles, some meant to age and others to be consumed immediately. Chardonnay grapes are still one of the most heavily planted of all varieties, and they are grown in more countries and regions than any other grape.
I’ll admit that it’s only recently that I have even bothered to sample Chardonnays when I visit wineries and Angela and I are both still often surprised at how much we are enjoying them. We even purchased a few bottles on our last visit to the Okanagan.
The lesson, I suppose, is that a rest can also be as good a change. Our unplanned sabbatical has reopened our minds to Chardonnay and I suspect we are not alone among wine lovers.
December 2013 – La Dolce Vita
Sangiovese - the blood of Jove
There are few wines that go as well with food as those made from the Sangiovese grape. The name is derived from the Latin sanguis Jova; the grape is made into Chianti, Vino Nobile di Montepulciano, Brunello di Montalcino and super Tuscan wines like Tignanello. Most Sangiovese wines are light enough to go with salads and chicken dishes, but have sufficient acidity and tannins to stand up to tomato and meat dishes, too.
When we arrived home from work on a recent Friday night we got busy with our dinner plan. The idea of home-made thin crust pizza was beckoning and I already had a Netflix movie set in Italy picked out. The wine, of course, was an $18 bottle of Sangiovese that I had picked up at the Creston liquor store.
I understand the appeal of ordering pizza from a restaurant. We do just that on occasion. But our favourites are the ones we make ourselves. While Angela threw together the ingredients and began to knead the dough, I got busy slicing pepperoni, mushrooms and artichokes, and grating the mozzarella. The oven was set to 450 degrees.
The dough recipe we use regularly takes only 20 minutes (faster if you use a food processor, which we don’t bother with), so we barely had time to take a sip from our glasses. Strawberry flavours are typical in most wines made from Italy’s most popular grape, but the tannins and acidity are what make it a natural with food. Looking for a nice sipping wine? Unless you are planning a snack to go along with it, don’t open a Sangiovese. We did just that to enjoy while we admired the view from our bed and breakfast balcony near St. Peter’s in Rome a few years ago and the owner was mortified that we were drinking the wine without a meal. He acted like we had arrived from another planet.
With the dough divided and half and pressed into pans, we quickly got to work. I smeared one with tomato sauce, then added slices of pepperoni and mushrooms, topping it with shredded mozzarella and a sprinkling of Tuscan spices. Angela used Italian salad dressing on the other, then added mushrooms and slices of artichokes. She used the mozzarella and spices, too, then dropped pieces of creamy Boursin cheese on the top. The pies went into the hot oven and were ready in minutes. (We once sat near a wood-fired pizza oven in a restaurant in Florence and I timed the process—a minute to rollout the dough and place the toppings and 90 seconds in the very hot oven. Now that’s fast food!).
Our travels in Italy taught us a couple of things about pizza. Thin crust is best—you aren’t filling up on bread. And pizzas just don’t need 14 toppings, 12 kinds of cheese and rolls of mozzarella wrapped into the rim of the crust. Simplicity allows the flavours of each ingredient to come out, so we were able to enjoy the taste of each topping instead of an overwhelming mélange of flavours.
We picked up our wine glasses and loaded our plates with hot pizza slices, then relocated to the living room to enjoy the movie, Shadows of the Sun, starring Harvey Keitel. In it, the always interesting Keitel plays a reclusive novelist, a la J.D. Salinger, who has retreated to a Tuscan property to live in anonymity. A British book publisher, desperate to drum up business, sends one of his editors to convince the novelist to sign a contract and get back to his typewriter.
The location, around the village of Abbadia San Salvatore (I checked maps later and found we have been within a few kilometers of the beautiful spot), suited the story, which was interesting enough. The ending, for want of a better word, sucked. But we didn’t really mind, having begun our weekend with pizza and wine and, for a couple of hours, been transported back to Tuscany.
February 2011 - La Dolce Vita
When we arrived home from work on a recent Friday night we got busy with our dinner plan. The idea of home-made thin crust pizza was beckoning and I already had a Netflix movie set in Italy picked out. The wine, of course, was an $18 bottle of Sangiovese that I had picked up at the Creston liquor store.
I understand the appeal of ordering pizza from a restaurant. We do just that on occasion. But our favourites are the ones we make ourselves. While Angela threw together the ingredients and began to knead the dough, I got busy slicing pepperoni, mushrooms and artichokes, and grating the mozzarella. The oven was set to 450 degrees.
The dough recipe we use regularly takes only 20 minutes (faster if you use a food processor, which we don’t bother with), so we barely had time to take a sip from our glasses. Strawberry flavours are typical in most wines made from Italy’s most popular grape, but the tannins and acidity are what make it a natural with food. Looking for a nice sipping wine? Unless you are planning a snack to go along with it, don’t open a Sangiovese. We did just that to enjoy while we admired the view from our bed and breakfast balcony near St. Peter’s in Rome a few years ago and the owner was mortified that we were drinking the wine without a meal. He acted like we had arrived from another planet.
With the dough divided and half and pressed into pans, we quickly got to work. I smeared one with tomato sauce, then added slices of pepperoni and mushrooms, topping it with shredded mozzarella and a sprinkling of Tuscan spices. Angela used Italian salad dressing on the other, then added mushrooms and slices of artichokes. She used the mozzarella and spices, too, then dropped pieces of creamy Boursin cheese on the top. The pies went into the hot oven and were ready in minutes. (We once sat near a wood-fired pizza oven in a restaurant in Florence and I timed the process—a minute to rollout the dough and place the toppings and 90 seconds in the very hot oven. Now that’s fast food!).
Our travels in Italy taught us a couple of things about pizza. Thin crust is best—you aren’t filling up on bread. And pizzas just don’t need 14 toppings, 12 kinds of cheese and rolls of mozzarella wrapped into the rim of the crust. Simplicity allows the flavours of each ingredient to come out, so we were able to enjoy the taste of each topping instead of an overwhelming mélange of flavours.
We picked up our wine glasses and loaded our plates with hot pizza slices, then relocated to the living room to enjoy the movie, Shadows of the Sun, starring Harvey Keitel. In it, the always interesting Keitel plays a reclusive novelist, a la J.D. Salinger, who has retreated to a Tuscan property to live in anonymity. A British book publisher, desperate to drum up business, sends one of his editors to convince the novelist to sign a contract and get back to his typewriter.
The location, around the village of Abbadia San Salvatore (I checked maps later and found we have been within a few kilometers of the beautiful spot), suited the story, which was interesting enough. The ending, for want of a better word, sucked. But we didn’t really mind, having begun our weekend with pizza and wine and, for a couple of hours, been transported back to Tuscany.
February 2011 - La Dolce Vita
Malbec is finally beginning to stand on its own
Malbec. It’s a grape variety whose name is starting to take off in wine circles. And deservedly so. For a long time the grape was used almost exclusively as an addition to some Bordeaux wines. It was rarely made into a wine on its own. Argentina began to have success with this fascinating variety and other countries have been quick to see its attributes.
One of the first things to be noticed in a glass of Malbec is the incredibly deep red-purple colour. On the nose, it is earthy, emanating a sense that one has been transported back to a simpler time in which agriculture didn’t take a back seat to urban development. Better Malbecs will provide a wonderful mouth feel. While they aren’t big and bold, like Cabernet Sauvignon, for instance, well-made Malbec wines are mouth-filling and sumptuous, their plummy, jammy flavours lingering long after the glass has been set down.
I came to the topic of Malbec after having paid a couple of recent visits to Pend d’Oreille Winery in Sandpoint. I’ve written positively about this winery in the past, but these visits indicate the winemaker is right at the top of his game. Each wine we have sampled has been outstanding. Twice we’ve enjoyed lunch at a neighbouring pub and enjoyed a glass of Pend d’Oreille Syrah with out lunch, at the same price the winery sells it for. Great wine, great value (great food, too).
The Pend d’Oreille Malbec we enjoyed with dinner on Sunday evening was one of the most pleasant wine-drinking experiences we’ve had this year. It’s smooth, full and not acidic, leaving flavours that linger on and on. And on. In fact, on Monday I was still conjuring the taste and feel in my mouth, and not many wines have had such a lasting effect.
At $29 a bottle it isn’t exactly a cheap deal, especially when one considers the Sandpoint Wal-Mart sells all Aussie Yellowtail wines for $5.97. The best measurement I can offer is that, given the choice between one bottle of Pend d’Oreille Malbec and five of any Yellowtail wine, the response would be quick and without regrets. I’ll take the Malbec.
Malbec wines don’t have to be expensive, however. While the Sandhill Small Lots Malbec retails for $26.99, there are a couple of bottles from Argentina at Creston’s government liquor store, one for $8.99 and other for less than three bucks more. People we’ve recommended these wines to have responded positively, and the one we had on Monday night, the more costly Trapiche, was excellent value at the price. The same can be said for the lower-priced Marcus James. Only two of the Malbec wines listed on the BC Liquor Stores web site don’t come from Argentina. They are both Chilean.
March 2011 – La Dolce Vita
One of the first things to be noticed in a glass of Malbec is the incredibly deep red-purple colour. On the nose, it is earthy, emanating a sense that one has been transported back to a simpler time in which agriculture didn’t take a back seat to urban development. Better Malbecs will provide a wonderful mouth feel. While they aren’t big and bold, like Cabernet Sauvignon, for instance, well-made Malbec wines are mouth-filling and sumptuous, their plummy, jammy flavours lingering long after the glass has been set down.
I came to the topic of Malbec after having paid a couple of recent visits to Pend d’Oreille Winery in Sandpoint. I’ve written positively about this winery in the past, but these visits indicate the winemaker is right at the top of his game. Each wine we have sampled has been outstanding. Twice we’ve enjoyed lunch at a neighbouring pub and enjoyed a glass of Pend d’Oreille Syrah with out lunch, at the same price the winery sells it for. Great wine, great value (great food, too).
The Pend d’Oreille Malbec we enjoyed with dinner on Sunday evening was one of the most pleasant wine-drinking experiences we’ve had this year. It’s smooth, full and not acidic, leaving flavours that linger on and on. And on. In fact, on Monday I was still conjuring the taste and feel in my mouth, and not many wines have had such a lasting effect.
At $29 a bottle it isn’t exactly a cheap deal, especially when one considers the Sandpoint Wal-Mart sells all Aussie Yellowtail wines for $5.97. The best measurement I can offer is that, given the choice between one bottle of Pend d’Oreille Malbec and five of any Yellowtail wine, the response would be quick and without regrets. I’ll take the Malbec.
Malbec wines don’t have to be expensive, however. While the Sandhill Small Lots Malbec retails for $26.99, there are a couple of bottles from Argentina at Creston’s government liquor store, one for $8.99 and other for less than three bucks more. People we’ve recommended these wines to have responded positively, and the one we had on Monday night, the more costly Trapiche, was excellent value at the price. The same can be said for the lower-priced Marcus James. Only two of the Malbec wines listed on the BC Liquor Stores web site don’t come from Argentina. They are both Chilean.
March 2011 – La Dolce Vita
gamay grape harvest celebrated in beaujolais nouveau
There is a joke about an Italian man who welcomes his visiting adult son with a glass of orange juice.
“You gotta try this,” he says in his thick accent. “It’s the best juice you’re ever gonna taste.”
The son takes a sip and asks why his dad thinks it’s so special.
“It says on the container it’s made from concentrate.”
“So what?”
“It means when they make it, they really think about it,” Dad says.
Nouveau Beaujolais wine is not made from concentrate. It is sold so fresh, but not so fresh that winery owners don’t have time to think about it. It’s on the store shelves as early as six weeks after harvest. And it is definitely a wine made to be consumed when purchased. It’s not going to get any better in the bottle that the day you buy it. Leave it unopened for more than a few months and you risk having to dump it down the drain.
Nouveau Beaujolais is made in a portion of the Burgundy region of France, but other “nouveau” wines can also be available, depending on where you live. But it’s the Burgundy that’s the real thing and here in BC Liquor Board stores there is usually a choice of two or more brands
I’ll admit I hardly give a thought to the release date of these wines because I prefer richer, more complex wines. But their release, traditionally on the third Thursday of November, coincides with the birthday of one of my co-workers who has a great affinity for the style. This year, we gave her the usual gift from the staff and, minutes later, I opened my email to find an announcement that the BCLB now had Nouveau Beaujolais on sale. It immediately went to our Creston store, knowing that they had a case of Mommessin in stock (the BCLB website is amazing — it can tell you how many bottles of anything each store in the province has — usually).
A quick search around the store didn’t reveal any bottles, but one of the staff quickly solved the mystery. It was early in the morning and the box was still in the stock area at the back. To my surprise, there was also another choice, a case of Georges du Boeuf was also there. I purchased two of each and added a pair of bottles to our co-worker’s birthday present. The other two were for home.
The tradition of celebrating the harvest by drinking young wine isn’t all that special — wines from Bordeaux were being shipped to Britain within weeks of bottling as far back as the 12th century. More recent is the idea that aging wine, usually in oak barrels, can result in a markedly more interesting and flavourful product.
When I drink these young wines, which are lower in alcohol than most reds — 12 per cent in this case — I think of a mixture of grape juice and vodka. There isn’t much complexity but the fresh fruity flavour is not without its appeal.
Beaujolais Nouveau, and Beaujolais, wines are made from Gamay grapes and the stern regulations that govern the French wine industry come into play. The grapes must be handpicked and the whole berries are fermented so that not many of the tannins are pulled out of the skins. The Nouveau product is pasteurized immediately after the primary fermentation to prevent a secondary, or malolactic, fermentation from taking place.
It isn’t often mentioned, but Nouveau wines have a tremendous benefit for wineries. They bring in much needed cash flow when most other wines are sitting in stainless steel tanks or oak barrels, biding their time until they are deemed ready for the market, sometimes years later. And their fresh, fruity flavour is a good reminder of the most recent harvest, giving us a chance to raise our glasses to the workers who spend hard days, bent at the waist, to bring in the ripe grape crop.
November 2012 – La Dolce Vita
“You gotta try this,” he says in his thick accent. “It’s the best juice you’re ever gonna taste.”
The son takes a sip and asks why his dad thinks it’s so special.
“It says on the container it’s made from concentrate.”
“So what?”
“It means when they make it, they really think about it,” Dad says.
Nouveau Beaujolais wine is not made from concentrate. It is sold so fresh, but not so fresh that winery owners don’t have time to think about it. It’s on the store shelves as early as six weeks after harvest. And it is definitely a wine made to be consumed when purchased. It’s not going to get any better in the bottle that the day you buy it. Leave it unopened for more than a few months and you risk having to dump it down the drain.
Nouveau Beaujolais is made in a portion of the Burgundy region of France, but other “nouveau” wines can also be available, depending on where you live. But it’s the Burgundy that’s the real thing and here in BC Liquor Board stores there is usually a choice of two or more brands
I’ll admit I hardly give a thought to the release date of these wines because I prefer richer, more complex wines. But their release, traditionally on the third Thursday of November, coincides with the birthday of one of my co-workers who has a great affinity for the style. This year, we gave her the usual gift from the staff and, minutes later, I opened my email to find an announcement that the BCLB now had Nouveau Beaujolais on sale. It immediately went to our Creston store, knowing that they had a case of Mommessin in stock (the BCLB website is amazing — it can tell you how many bottles of anything each store in the province has — usually).
A quick search around the store didn’t reveal any bottles, but one of the staff quickly solved the mystery. It was early in the morning and the box was still in the stock area at the back. To my surprise, there was also another choice, a case of Georges du Boeuf was also there. I purchased two of each and added a pair of bottles to our co-worker’s birthday present. The other two were for home.
The tradition of celebrating the harvest by drinking young wine isn’t all that special — wines from Bordeaux were being shipped to Britain within weeks of bottling as far back as the 12th century. More recent is the idea that aging wine, usually in oak barrels, can result in a markedly more interesting and flavourful product.
When I drink these young wines, which are lower in alcohol than most reds — 12 per cent in this case — I think of a mixture of grape juice and vodka. There isn’t much complexity but the fresh fruity flavour is not without its appeal.
Beaujolais Nouveau, and Beaujolais, wines are made from Gamay grapes and the stern regulations that govern the French wine industry come into play. The grapes must be handpicked and the whole berries are fermented so that not many of the tannins are pulled out of the skins. The Nouveau product is pasteurized immediately after the primary fermentation to prevent a secondary, or malolactic, fermentation from taking place.
It isn’t often mentioned, but Nouveau wines have a tremendous benefit for wineries. They bring in much needed cash flow when most other wines are sitting in stainless steel tanks or oak barrels, biding their time until they are deemed ready for the market, sometimes years later. And their fresh, fruity flavour is a good reminder of the most recent harvest, giving us a chance to raise our glasses to the workers who spend hard days, bent at the waist, to bring in the ripe grape crop.
November 2012 – La Dolce Vita
Merlot—the new cabernet?
Traditionally thought of a grape best used in blending—typically with Cabernet Sauvignon—Merlot has become the new darling of the wine set. And I’ve been slow to jump on the bandwagon.
At its best, Merlot is a key, and often dominant, component of Bordeaux wines, especially those from the right bank, which includes St.-Emilion and Pomerol, two of Bordeaux’s storied wine regions (Chateau Petrus wines are among collectors’ holy grails and they include up to 95 per cent Merlot). At its worst, when grown in a cool climate that doesn’t allow it to fully ripen, the resultant wines can be unpleasantly vegetative, some even asparagus-like in taste.
It’s a tricky grape to deal with. Merlot flowers early and ripens early, making it attractive to growers, because it can be harvested ahead of Cabernet Sauvignon. But the early flowering makes it susceptible to cool spring weather and its thin skins are an invitation to fungal and insect attacks. And it can ripen quickly, then almost imperceptively become over-ripe, resulting in wines that taste of raisins or fruitcake.
A well-made Merlot is a delight, however. Since North American winemakers moved away from an earlier tendency to produce big, dark, over-tannic wines the results have improved significantly. The wines inevitably have great colour, but are now typically made in a lighter style. They are less tannic than their Cabernet Sauvignon counterparts and offer up a slightly spicy taste with reminders of blackberries and plums.
As I’ve said, I’ve come late to being an admirer of the varietal, tending to think that if everyone is drinking the stuff it means there is more of the other stuff for me. But our recent wine club gathering, in which six or seven different bottles were opened and sampled, had me reassessing my prejudice.
I was surprised to find only one of the offerings not really to my liking, and even it couldn’t be described as unpleasant. The others weren’t just good—they were really good, and they came from different parts of the world. My own contribution was a 1999 Burrowing Owl Merlot, and it showed that the wine ages nicely. It may have been at its peak but it certainly wasn’t on the downslide.
As members of our group sipped and discussed and enjoyed, the word chocolate could often be heard. Well-made Merlots often have a hint of a chocolate taste to them, and they also pair nicely with chocolate, not surprisingly.
Perhaps even more than most wines, you get what you pay for in a Merlot. In my experience a $10 Merlot is something to pass on. But start paying upwards of $20 and you are very likely to get a very nice product. There are some good buys under $20, but they take some looking for.
Aftertastes
I stopped in at the government liquor store in Cranbrook on the weekend to see if I could fulfill a friend’s request for a nice non-Canadian Pinot Noir, a gift for an Okanagan resident. I didn’t have much success, but I did get a smile. Checking out the scotch section, I couldn’t help but notice an 18-year-old McCallans, priced at about $252. Now, the price was outrageous in itself, being much lower beyond either southern or eastern borders, but the kicker came with the “sale” tag affixed to the shelf below. “Save $2.20), read the tag. I found an expensive wine with a similarly special offer, also amounting to less than one per cent of the regular price.
Only a government-run retail agency could sell a product at more than 99 per cent of its regular price and call it a sale.
January 2008 – La Dolce Vita
At its best, Merlot is a key, and often dominant, component of Bordeaux wines, especially those from the right bank, which includes St.-Emilion and Pomerol, two of Bordeaux’s storied wine regions (Chateau Petrus wines are among collectors’ holy grails and they include up to 95 per cent Merlot). At its worst, when grown in a cool climate that doesn’t allow it to fully ripen, the resultant wines can be unpleasantly vegetative, some even asparagus-like in taste.
It’s a tricky grape to deal with. Merlot flowers early and ripens early, making it attractive to growers, because it can be harvested ahead of Cabernet Sauvignon. But the early flowering makes it susceptible to cool spring weather and its thin skins are an invitation to fungal and insect attacks. And it can ripen quickly, then almost imperceptively become over-ripe, resulting in wines that taste of raisins or fruitcake.
A well-made Merlot is a delight, however. Since North American winemakers moved away from an earlier tendency to produce big, dark, over-tannic wines the results have improved significantly. The wines inevitably have great colour, but are now typically made in a lighter style. They are less tannic than their Cabernet Sauvignon counterparts and offer up a slightly spicy taste with reminders of blackberries and plums.
As I’ve said, I’ve come late to being an admirer of the varietal, tending to think that if everyone is drinking the stuff it means there is more of the other stuff for me. But our recent wine club gathering, in which six or seven different bottles were opened and sampled, had me reassessing my prejudice.
I was surprised to find only one of the offerings not really to my liking, and even it couldn’t be described as unpleasant. The others weren’t just good—they were really good, and they came from different parts of the world. My own contribution was a 1999 Burrowing Owl Merlot, and it showed that the wine ages nicely. It may have been at its peak but it certainly wasn’t on the downslide.
As members of our group sipped and discussed and enjoyed, the word chocolate could often be heard. Well-made Merlots often have a hint of a chocolate taste to them, and they also pair nicely with chocolate, not surprisingly.
Perhaps even more than most wines, you get what you pay for in a Merlot. In my experience a $10 Merlot is something to pass on. But start paying upwards of $20 and you are very likely to get a very nice product. There are some good buys under $20, but they take some looking for.
Aftertastes
I stopped in at the government liquor store in Cranbrook on the weekend to see if I could fulfill a friend’s request for a nice non-Canadian Pinot Noir, a gift for an Okanagan resident. I didn’t have much success, but I did get a smile. Checking out the scotch section, I couldn’t help but notice an 18-year-old McCallans, priced at about $252. Now, the price was outrageous in itself, being much lower beyond either southern or eastern borders, but the kicker came with the “sale” tag affixed to the shelf below. “Save $2.20), read the tag. I found an expensive wine with a similarly special offer, also amounting to less than one per cent of the regular price.
Only a government-run retail agency could sell a product at more than 99 per cent of its regular price and call it a sale.
January 2008 – La Dolce Vita
