A desert, not dessert, wine - and kosher, too!
A salad featuring pomegranate seeds, avacadoes, oranges on a bed of mixed greens accompanied this wine from the Negev Desert.
Buying gifts for wine snobs can be difficult. For a wine lover like myself, it’s a piece of cake. Bring me a bottle of pretty much anything that doesn’t include the word Yellowtail on the label and I’m usually going to be a happy guy.
Still, I was touched when Angela handed me two bottles a few months ago. She had just driven home from Calgary after her return flight to Tel Aviv. Along with two sisters she had spent 8 days touring Israel and even going into Jordan. Hauling bottles along for the last few days of the tour and then packing them safely into stowed luggage can be a pain.
The bottles, she said, were purchased when the tour group visited a kibbutz in the Negev Desert. Kibbutz Sde Boker is not best know for its winery. It was the home of Israel’s first president, David Ben Gurion. Originally a ranch, the property became a kibbutz, or collective, in 1955 and today is home to 175 residents, who care for olive trees, make olive oil, tend the vineyards and even operate a small factory that makes packing tape, of all things.
Early testing on the viability of grapevines must have been a challenge. The kibbutz worked with the Ministry of Agriculture, Research and Development to see weather grapes could be established where only brackish, or briny, water was available in quantity. Eventually, a three-hectare vineyard took hold, and another five hectares were planted shortly afterward. In 1999 the first wines were made from a ton each of Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon. Today, about 5,000 cases of those wines, along with Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc, Zinfandel and Malbec.
Like most new ideas, the idea of establishing a vineyard on the kibbutz was the brainchild of Zvi Remak, who was born and raised in the San Francisco area. He arrived in Israel in 1980 bearing a B.Sc. in agronomy. He worked in the Sde orchards for 13 years, then took a sabbatical in California, where he studied winemaking and grape-growing. He returned to the kibbutz in 1996. Remak now works as the vineyard manager.
Angela brought back bottles of Malbec and Zinfandel, which are among our favourite varietals. She says the bottles cost about $30Cdn each.
Those vines flourish in heat, so I was optimistic when we opened the Malbec before Christmas. But I was not prepared for just how good the wine actually was. Typical of the variety, it was inky red and full-bodied. The 2009 vintage still had plenty of tannins but it was as smooth and silky as any fine Pinot Noir. Juicy on the tongue and with a very long and satisfying finish, in the end we concluded it was one of the best wines we had enjoyed all year.
I paired the wine with a salad. On a bed of mixed greens I drizzled extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Then came lemon-tossed slices of avocado, mandarin orange segments and pomegranate seeds. Finally a dozen or so small scallops, quickly sautéed, also in olive oil and balsamic vinegar, were laid out on top. The combination was magical. Big, fruity wines can match beautifully with salads that have the right combination of ingredients and dressing, and this one hit the nail on the head.
We clinked our glasses, toasting with gratitude that we have been able to travel to so many interesting places, and that on this occasion Angela had the added benefit of spending many happy hours with her sisters. With the contents of that glass, I felt that for a few minutes I was able to share in their adventure, and a lovely one it was.
La Dolce Vita, January 24, 2014
English wine industry has yet to find its legs
Our friends and tour guides Nicolet and Gerry joined us for lunch at the Three Choirs Vineyard restaurant.
When we began making plans to visit England, one of my desires was to visit an English winery. English winery? Yes, there are a few, and we knew that only because British friends who live part of the year in the Creston Valley brought some over for our wine group to taste a couple of years ago.
So there we were three weeks ago, tooling along the freeway with those same friends, heading toward Three Choirs Vineyard, a good hour northeast of Bristol, in a triangle whose points are formed by Hereford, Gloucester and Worcester. The country is rolling and lush green, even in late March, and it looks for all the world like it should be able to support a wine industry, until you think about the long periods during which residents experience mostly grey and gloomy skies. The sun-drenched skies we experienced in Bristol and London were, we were told, an anomaly.
When we arrived at Three Choirs Vineyard, we were greeted with a surprisingly unattractive sign, the words “Wittingtons Brewery” appearing more prominently than the name of the winery. The winery and vineyard offer a variety of appeals to the visitor, including tourist accommodations and a five-barrel brew plant. Whether that is an indication that the wine business isn’t a big moneymaker isn’t clear to me.
Our group had lunch reservations for the restaurant at Three Choirs and we had to hustle to make it in time — we were driving from Lacock, a fantastic historical village that has been the setting for some filming of the Harry Potter movies.
Lunch was very nice and we enjoyed a bottle of Three Choirs 2010 rosé and there wasn’t a thing wrong with it. As memory serves, we had the same response to the British wines we had sampled a few years earlier. They were well made and gave us nothing to complain about.
And therein lies the rub. For centuries, British residents have had quick, easy and often cheap access to wines from France, where long history and a marginally better climate gives winemakers a distinct leg up over the relative newcomers in England and Wales.
One suspects that the success of wineries and vineyards lies more in their novelty than anything else. The British don’t have any disdain for the French and they also have historically held close connections to the Spanish and Portuguese wine industries. Unless the buy local movement takes off, if it has even started, I’d say wine producers in England are up against it.
Statistics seem to bear that out. In 1992, English winemakers produced about 3.2 million bottles of white wine and in 2010 they produced just under 3.3 million bottles. But in 2007, that number dropped to just over a million. Obviously, production quantities are extremely weather dependent. And when I stopped in to check out the selection of wines at a shop in London, I learned that French wine prices can easily meet or beat those of English wines.
All that is likely an indication of how much is going on at Three Choirs. A brewery. Tourist accommodation. A restaurant. Cooking courses. An adopt-a-vine program. And, perhaps even more telling, the use of Geneva double curtain vine trellising, which I haven’t seen used in any other vineyard I have visited. This system “effectively doubles the cropping potential of each vine”, according to signage in the vineyards. We noticed the wide spacing between plants and the long woody stems kept to support the coming year’s crop of grapes, both signs that quantity and not quality are the major concern.
In some ways, the English vineyards seem to be where the B.C. wine industry was 30 years ago. Better grape clones, improved vineyard management and yes, climate change, have all helped our own industry blossom. England is neighbor to some of the great wine producers of the world, so it would seem that climate change is the country’s best bet for the future. It isn’t something I’d base an investment on.
April 2012 - La Dolce Vita
So there we were three weeks ago, tooling along the freeway with those same friends, heading toward Three Choirs Vineyard, a good hour northeast of Bristol, in a triangle whose points are formed by Hereford, Gloucester and Worcester. The country is rolling and lush green, even in late March, and it looks for all the world like it should be able to support a wine industry, until you think about the long periods during which residents experience mostly grey and gloomy skies. The sun-drenched skies we experienced in Bristol and London were, we were told, an anomaly.
When we arrived at Three Choirs Vineyard, we were greeted with a surprisingly unattractive sign, the words “Wittingtons Brewery” appearing more prominently than the name of the winery. The winery and vineyard offer a variety of appeals to the visitor, including tourist accommodations and a five-barrel brew plant. Whether that is an indication that the wine business isn’t a big moneymaker isn’t clear to me.
Our group had lunch reservations for the restaurant at Three Choirs and we had to hustle to make it in time — we were driving from Lacock, a fantastic historical village that has been the setting for some filming of the Harry Potter movies.
Lunch was very nice and we enjoyed a bottle of Three Choirs 2010 rosé and there wasn’t a thing wrong with it. As memory serves, we had the same response to the British wines we had sampled a few years earlier. They were well made and gave us nothing to complain about.
And therein lies the rub. For centuries, British residents have had quick, easy and often cheap access to wines from France, where long history and a marginally better climate gives winemakers a distinct leg up over the relative newcomers in England and Wales.
One suspects that the success of wineries and vineyards lies more in their novelty than anything else. The British don’t have any disdain for the French and they also have historically held close connections to the Spanish and Portuguese wine industries. Unless the buy local movement takes off, if it has even started, I’d say wine producers in England are up against it.
Statistics seem to bear that out. In 1992, English winemakers produced about 3.2 million bottles of white wine and in 2010 they produced just under 3.3 million bottles. But in 2007, that number dropped to just over a million. Obviously, production quantities are extremely weather dependent. And when I stopped in to check out the selection of wines at a shop in London, I learned that French wine prices can easily meet or beat those of English wines.
All that is likely an indication of how much is going on at Three Choirs. A brewery. Tourist accommodation. A restaurant. Cooking courses. An adopt-a-vine program. And, perhaps even more telling, the use of Geneva double curtain vine trellising, which I haven’t seen used in any other vineyard I have visited. This system “effectively doubles the cropping potential of each vine”, according to signage in the vineyards. We noticed the wide spacing between plants and the long woody stems kept to support the coming year’s crop of grapes, both signs that quantity and not quality are the major concern.
In some ways, the English vineyards seem to be where the B.C. wine industry was 30 years ago. Better grape clones, improved vineyard management and yes, climate change, have all helped our own industry blossom. England is neighbor to some of the great wine producers of the world, so it would seem that climate change is the country’s best bet for the future. It isn’t something I’d base an investment on.
April 2012 - La Dolce Vita
freixenet - the bubbly in the familiar black bottle
From our visit to the Freixenet winery, near Barcelona, Spain.
Have you ever passed by a liquor store shelf and noticed those matte black bottles containing sparkling wine from Spain? Perhaps, like us, you have picked one or more up when the occasion called for a little bubbly — or cava, as it is called in Spain. And, if you are like me, you might have wondered what sort of facility it takes to ensure that those bottles, popular the world over, are on the shelves of even little Kootenay towns, day in, day out, year after year.
We got a glimpse of how it all happens last month when we visited the Freixenet winery while we were visiting Barcelona. Among my many reasons for wanting to go was to answer a question that has long plagued me: how do you pronounce that name? Fry-jhe-nett, we quickly learned.
To be clear, Freixenet sparkling wines are not sold only in black bottles. Some are clear, but with a matte finish on the bottle that makes them look different than most of the competition.
Our group saw the workings, inside and out of doors, from the comfort of a little “train”, a series of rubber-tired carts that each held a dozen people, towed by an electric “engine”. The little train easily manipulated the tight turns around the dark storage areas and speakers in each cart broadcast tour information.
Freixenet is one of the world’s largest producers of sparkling wine and its products are very reasonably priced, much cheaper than the Champagne made several hundred kilometres north in France. But the wines are still made in the old style, or méthode champenoise, which originated in France hundreds of years ago. Once grape juice completes a primary fermentation, which turns sugars into alcohol, a secondary fermentation is created in the bottle by adding a tiny amount of yeast and, typically, bits of rock sugar. The bottles are capped like glass beer bottles, which hold back the pressure that builds up as the second fermentation creates carbon dioxide, which forms in tiny bubbles in the liquid.
When the fermentation is finished, the bottles are “racked”, traditionally by placing them neck first into racks that hold them at an angle, neck down. Over a period of weeks, the bottles are given quarter-turns and the angle is gradually steepened, causing the dead yeast cells to collect in the neck. When racking is complete, the necks of the bottles are quick-frozen in liquid nitrogen and the caps are popped off, allowing the remaining solids to pop out. Bottles are topped up with grape juice or wine, then sealed with corks, which are held tight with wire baskets.
There’s a lot of pressure in them thar bottles — you will notice the glass is thicker and the bottom has a dent in the bottom, which strengthens it. On our tour, as we passed what seemed like most of the 1.5 million bottles in the winery at any given time, we noticed the bottles always face the wall. No point in risking injury to passers-by when some inevitably explode by shooting out the corks!
Our tour was followed by a tasting of white and rosé cavas, along with platters of chips, cheese, crackers and sausages. Sparkling wines are typically forgotten in discussions about food and wine pairing, but they are extremely versatile.
Of the many, many wineries we have visited, we rate Freixenet was a highlight. The hospitality was very nice, the tour well-timed and interesting and the samples at the end very welcome, indeed.
May 2012 - La Dolce Vita
We got a glimpse of how it all happens last month when we visited the Freixenet winery while we were visiting Barcelona. Among my many reasons for wanting to go was to answer a question that has long plagued me: how do you pronounce that name? Fry-jhe-nett, we quickly learned.
To be clear, Freixenet sparkling wines are not sold only in black bottles. Some are clear, but with a matte finish on the bottle that makes them look different than most of the competition.
Our group saw the workings, inside and out of doors, from the comfort of a little “train”, a series of rubber-tired carts that each held a dozen people, towed by an electric “engine”. The little train easily manipulated the tight turns around the dark storage areas and speakers in each cart broadcast tour information.
Freixenet is one of the world’s largest producers of sparkling wine and its products are very reasonably priced, much cheaper than the Champagne made several hundred kilometres north in France. But the wines are still made in the old style, or méthode champenoise, which originated in France hundreds of years ago. Once grape juice completes a primary fermentation, which turns sugars into alcohol, a secondary fermentation is created in the bottle by adding a tiny amount of yeast and, typically, bits of rock sugar. The bottles are capped like glass beer bottles, which hold back the pressure that builds up as the second fermentation creates carbon dioxide, which forms in tiny bubbles in the liquid.
When the fermentation is finished, the bottles are “racked”, traditionally by placing them neck first into racks that hold them at an angle, neck down. Over a period of weeks, the bottles are given quarter-turns and the angle is gradually steepened, causing the dead yeast cells to collect in the neck. When racking is complete, the necks of the bottles are quick-frozen in liquid nitrogen and the caps are popped off, allowing the remaining solids to pop out. Bottles are topped up with grape juice or wine, then sealed with corks, which are held tight with wire baskets.
There’s a lot of pressure in them thar bottles — you will notice the glass is thicker and the bottom has a dent in the bottom, which strengthens it. On our tour, as we passed what seemed like most of the 1.5 million bottles in the winery at any given time, we noticed the bottles always face the wall. No point in risking injury to passers-by when some inevitably explode by shooting out the corks!
Our tour was followed by a tasting of white and rosé cavas, along with platters of chips, cheese, crackers and sausages. Sparkling wines are typically forgotten in discussions about food and wine pairing, but they are extremely versatile.
Of the many, many wineries we have visited, we rate Freixenet was a highlight. The hospitality was very nice, the tour well-timed and interesting and the samples at the end very welcome, indeed.
May 2012 - La Dolce Vita
an italian wine odyssey
There is a good reason why Italian wines go particularly well with food. Drink wine on its own in Italy, without food (or, almost as bad, without company) and you will get looks that will leave you wondering if you forgot to use deodorant after your morning shower.
Valpolicella is a classic example of a wine that is made to go with food. Light in body and best served on the cooler side, it is usually acidic, making it a perfect pairing with pastas and meats, especially when tomato sauce is in the mix. Spaghetti and meatballs or lasagne with Valpolicella create marriages typically associated with heaven.
Of course, I am referring to the classic table wines, because Valpolicella is not a grape, but a region in the province of Verona. Verona is a beautiful, smallish city that features an arena that packs about 9,000 people a night during the summer opera season. It is also the setting for Romeo and Juliet, and thousands of tourists stream past a balcony that is (wrongly) promoted as the scene where the smitten Juliet called out the unseen object of her love, “O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?”
The Valpolicella region, or denominazione, predominantly grows three types of grapes—Corvina Veronese Rondinella and Molinara—and produces some heavier, more complex red wines, too.
Amarone is a dark, heavy and very intense wine, the result of grape clusters being dried, traditionally, on straw mats for about four months. The appassimento, or drying process, causes water in the grapes to evaporate. The juice, when pressed, is concentrated, resulting in a wine much higher in alcohol than the lighter basic Valpolicella. Because the juice is so much more concentrated, the fermentation is slowed and can take more than a month.
If the fermentation is stopped before fermentation has run its course, the result is a sweeter wine called Recioto della Valpolicella. That wine can also be used to create a sparkling version.
When Amarone is made the pomace, or leftover skins and seeds, still contains residual sugars and, thanks to some frugal recycler in the not so distant past, they still have a use. Basic Valpolicella is added to the pomace and a secondary fermentation begins. The result is Ripasso, which has some of the characteristics of Amarone, but with a lower alcohol content and less body. Ripasso is often considered “the poor man’s Amarone”—it commands a much lower price in the marketplace.
One of our favourite Italian wine producers is Masi, a huge company that produces consistent, reliable wines at reasonable prices. It was Masi that first marketed wines made with the Ripasso process and it took a while before it was allowed under Italy’s strict laws governing nearly all aspects of grape growing and winemaking.
When shopping for wines in the Valpolicella family of reds, expect to pay the lowest prices for the table wines and the highest for Amarone. It’s a matter of simple economics based on the amount of labour and time each of the wines takes up in the winery. The table wine is pressed, fermented, aged (usually not for too long), bottled and shipped out. The Amarone, which typically costs more than $60 a bottle, takes more labour and care because the grapes have to be spread on the mats, checked regularly—obviously an airy, dedicated space is use for the appassimento process. Because Ripasso uses regular table wines which are then refermented with the Amarone pomace, it too needs longer in the winery. Ripasso wines can be found for as little as $15, but expect to pay $25-$30 for a good one.
June 2011 – La Dolce Vita
Valpolicella is a classic example of a wine that is made to go with food. Light in body and best served on the cooler side, it is usually acidic, making it a perfect pairing with pastas and meats, especially when tomato sauce is in the mix. Spaghetti and meatballs or lasagne with Valpolicella create marriages typically associated with heaven.
Of course, I am referring to the classic table wines, because Valpolicella is not a grape, but a region in the province of Verona. Verona is a beautiful, smallish city that features an arena that packs about 9,000 people a night during the summer opera season. It is also the setting for Romeo and Juliet, and thousands of tourists stream past a balcony that is (wrongly) promoted as the scene where the smitten Juliet called out the unseen object of her love, “O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?”
The Valpolicella region, or denominazione, predominantly grows three types of grapes—Corvina Veronese Rondinella and Molinara—and produces some heavier, more complex red wines, too.
Amarone is a dark, heavy and very intense wine, the result of grape clusters being dried, traditionally, on straw mats for about four months. The appassimento, or drying process, causes water in the grapes to evaporate. The juice, when pressed, is concentrated, resulting in a wine much higher in alcohol than the lighter basic Valpolicella. Because the juice is so much more concentrated, the fermentation is slowed and can take more than a month.
If the fermentation is stopped before fermentation has run its course, the result is a sweeter wine called Recioto della Valpolicella. That wine can also be used to create a sparkling version.
When Amarone is made the pomace, or leftover skins and seeds, still contains residual sugars and, thanks to some frugal recycler in the not so distant past, they still have a use. Basic Valpolicella is added to the pomace and a secondary fermentation begins. The result is Ripasso, which has some of the characteristics of Amarone, but with a lower alcohol content and less body. Ripasso is often considered “the poor man’s Amarone”—it commands a much lower price in the marketplace.
One of our favourite Italian wine producers is Masi, a huge company that produces consistent, reliable wines at reasonable prices. It was Masi that first marketed wines made with the Ripasso process and it took a while before it was allowed under Italy’s strict laws governing nearly all aspects of grape growing and winemaking.
When shopping for wines in the Valpolicella family of reds, expect to pay the lowest prices for the table wines and the highest for Amarone. It’s a matter of simple economics based on the amount of labour and time each of the wines takes up in the winery. The table wine is pressed, fermented, aged (usually not for too long), bottled and shipped out. The Amarone, which typically costs more than $60 a bottle, takes more labour and care because the grapes have to be spread on the mats, checked regularly—obviously an airy, dedicated space is use for the appassimento process. Because Ripasso uses regular table wines which are then refermented with the Amarone pomace, it too needs longer in the winery. Ripasso wines can be found for as little as $15, but expect to pay $25-$30 for a good one.
June 2011 – La Dolce Vita
More to portugal wines than just port
Portugal has so long been associated with the production with that magical elixir, port, that it hasn’t had an easy time gaining respect for its rejuvenated wine industry.
“This is a $100 wine in a $23 bottle,” a very knowledgeable salesman told me not so long ago. The wine was a 2004 Altano Reserva and I picked up a couple bottles on his recommendation. Having consumed one and passing the other on to a friend, I was left wishing I had more. (Fortuitously, I was able to enjoy another bottle in the company of friends recently.)
The salesman had just returned from a five-week visit to Spain and Portugal with his wife. The elderly couple makes a trip to explore wines from “the old world” annually, and he was bubbling with enthusiasm about the changes in Portugal’s wine industry.
While Spain has been touted as producing the best value wines in Europe for quite some time, he is insistent that the title be handed over to Portugal.
Historically, when the British and French were getting along, French wines were the preferred drinks of Britons. But a treaty in 1703 gave preferential tariff treatment to Portuguese wines following a long period of Franco-Anglo hostilities and drinking Port became a patriotic activity in English Society. Indeed, today many of the most famous port makers bear distinctly British names.
Most of the country’s non-Port products, with notable exceptions like Mateus Rose, the still popular sweet bubbly in a squat bottle, have traditionally been consumed without much emphasis on export. Portugal has long been one of the least affluent of European countries and the money simply wasn’t available to invest heavily to modernize the wine industry, bring it to a higher standard and gear up for promoting exports.
But joining the European Union has been a happy experience for the industry. Money for investment has flowed in and consumers throughout Europe and across the world have begun to appreciate the table wines now so much more widely available.
While lower land and labour costs have undoubtedly helped contribute to the country’s recent success, Portugal has a huge advantage in having a great diversity of indigenous grape varieties. Nearly 100 different vines, many of very high quality, are being used in commercial production and the range has captured the imagination of wine drinkers everywhere.
My bottles of Altano Reserva came from the Duoro region, which produces many of the country’s great port wines. Located in the north, where the Duoro River cuts across the country from its eastern border to the Atlantic, Duoro is home to the country’s largest DOC (denominacao de origem controlado—based on the French classification model), where the country’s most famous table wine, Vinho Verde is predominant.
Vinho Verde, literally green wine, is typically thought of as the young white wine with the green tinge, the Portugese equivalent of Nouveau Beaujolais. But about half the production is a red wine. Both red and white often have a light sparkle and some are even carbonated prior to bottling. They are acidic, fruity and extremely dry.
Back to the Altano. It was also fruity, but my most recent experience allowed it to sit in a decanter for an hour or more, and it was a medium-bodied delight with a meal. Plenty of fruit, enough acid to handle a variety of food pairings and a very nice finish left me very satisfied that I had enjoyed a wine that provided excellent value for the price. I might not have paid $100 for it, but I wouldn’t pay that much for almost any other wine, either. And I’d be hard pressed to come up with a lengthy list of better buys.
February 2012 – La Dolce Vita
“This is a $100 wine in a $23 bottle,” a very knowledgeable salesman told me not so long ago. The wine was a 2004 Altano Reserva and I picked up a couple bottles on his recommendation. Having consumed one and passing the other on to a friend, I was left wishing I had more. (Fortuitously, I was able to enjoy another bottle in the company of friends recently.)
The salesman had just returned from a five-week visit to Spain and Portugal with his wife. The elderly couple makes a trip to explore wines from “the old world” annually, and he was bubbling with enthusiasm about the changes in Portugal’s wine industry.
While Spain has been touted as producing the best value wines in Europe for quite some time, he is insistent that the title be handed over to Portugal.
Historically, when the British and French were getting along, French wines were the preferred drinks of Britons. But a treaty in 1703 gave preferential tariff treatment to Portuguese wines following a long period of Franco-Anglo hostilities and drinking Port became a patriotic activity in English Society. Indeed, today many of the most famous port makers bear distinctly British names.
Most of the country’s non-Port products, with notable exceptions like Mateus Rose, the still popular sweet bubbly in a squat bottle, have traditionally been consumed without much emphasis on export. Portugal has long been one of the least affluent of European countries and the money simply wasn’t available to invest heavily to modernize the wine industry, bring it to a higher standard and gear up for promoting exports.
But joining the European Union has been a happy experience for the industry. Money for investment has flowed in and consumers throughout Europe and across the world have begun to appreciate the table wines now so much more widely available.
While lower land and labour costs have undoubtedly helped contribute to the country’s recent success, Portugal has a huge advantage in having a great diversity of indigenous grape varieties. Nearly 100 different vines, many of very high quality, are being used in commercial production and the range has captured the imagination of wine drinkers everywhere.
My bottles of Altano Reserva came from the Duoro region, which produces many of the country’s great port wines. Located in the north, where the Duoro River cuts across the country from its eastern border to the Atlantic, Duoro is home to the country’s largest DOC (denominacao de origem controlado—based on the French classification model), where the country’s most famous table wine, Vinho Verde is predominant.
Vinho Verde, literally green wine, is typically thought of as the young white wine with the green tinge, the Portugese equivalent of Nouveau Beaujolais. But about half the production is a red wine. Both red and white often have a light sparkle and some are even carbonated prior to bottling. They are acidic, fruity and extremely dry.
Back to the Altano. It was also fruity, but my most recent experience allowed it to sit in a decanter for an hour or more, and it was a medium-bodied delight with a meal. Plenty of fruit, enough acid to handle a variety of food pairings and a very nice finish left me very satisfied that I had enjoyed a wine that provided excellent value for the price. I might not have paid $100 for it, but I wouldn’t pay that much for almost any other wine, either. And I’d be hard pressed to come up with a lengthy list of better buys.
February 2012 – La Dolce Vita
musician promotes wines made in arizona
Maynard James Keenan
In Greek mythology, Hermes stole cattle from Apollo, then gave him his lyre, made from a tortoise shell, to remediate the crime. In turn, Apollo presented the recalcitrant thief with a caduceus, or staff. The caduceus is often depicted entwined by a pair of snakes. Add a set of wings and result is a symbol of commerce.
About 15 years ago rock music star Maynard James Keenan entered into an area of commerce in a somewhat unusual way. While visiting Jerome, Arizona, Keenan was smitten with the area and wondered if it wouldn’t be suitable for grape growing. Fortunately, he had been preceded by a few like-minded growers and he formed a deep connection with one of them. With the help of Eric Glomski, Keenan has become a desert visionary, owner of a successful vineyard and winery—Caduceus--that is beginning to draw attention to the Verde Valley, about 200km north of Scottsdale.
I mention Caduceus not because I’ve tasted the wine (although it has now become a mission to find some) but because we settled in front of the television on a recent evening to watch Blood Into Wine, a documentary about Keenan’s venture into the wine business.
I chose a bottle of Burrowing Owl Pinot Noir to sip while we watched the movie on Netflix, because it was the only wine in my cellar that I could think of that came from a desert area. Burrowing Owl is located on Silver Sage Road to the north of Osoyoos and its hot, dry vineyards produce some of the country’s finest grapes.
Blood Into Wine is not a typical documentary, any more than Keenan is a typical winery owner. It features plenty of scenes in the orchards and winery, along with interviews with local characters, but satirical snippets from a Keenan appearance on a fictional cable television talk show add some great moments of humour.
And Maynard James Keenan is as far from a typical rock star as one could imagine. He’s had success as the co-founder of Tool (music I’ve enjoyed at the recommendation of our oldest son), A Perfect Circle and Puscifer. By all accounts, Keenan is as comfortable appearing on stage with a painted face, fronting an alternative music band, as he is pruning vines and picking grapes. The documentary reveals him to be a complex, highly intelligent and deep-thinking individual who got into the wine business because he believed it could have a positive influence on the tiny town of Jerome. He clearly feels a deep connection to the land.
One of the most heartening interviews in Blood Into Wine was with a local environmentalist, who spoke about how vineyards are a good environmental and economic choice in an area where water is at a premium. The vines receive only moderate watering, all from a drip irrigation system, and the winery works to use water responsibly.
We found the documentary provided a rare combination of entertainment, education and enlightenment and I came away a fan of Keenan (a former West Point cadet whose great-grandparents owned vineyards and made wine in Italy) as a person. I like his thoughtfulness about what he is doing, and his passion for doing it right.
While our bottle of Burrowing Owl turned out to be a good match as we watched the movie, I look forward to the day that I locate a bottle or two of Caduceus, which Wine Spectator reviewer James Suckling had only positive things to say about.
The Keenan Caduceus, appropriately, features vines, not snakes, twined around a rod.
February 2012 – La Dolce Vita
About 15 years ago rock music star Maynard James Keenan entered into an area of commerce in a somewhat unusual way. While visiting Jerome, Arizona, Keenan was smitten with the area and wondered if it wouldn’t be suitable for grape growing. Fortunately, he had been preceded by a few like-minded growers and he formed a deep connection with one of them. With the help of Eric Glomski, Keenan has become a desert visionary, owner of a successful vineyard and winery—Caduceus--that is beginning to draw attention to the Verde Valley, about 200km north of Scottsdale.
I mention Caduceus not because I’ve tasted the wine (although it has now become a mission to find some) but because we settled in front of the television on a recent evening to watch Blood Into Wine, a documentary about Keenan’s venture into the wine business.
I chose a bottle of Burrowing Owl Pinot Noir to sip while we watched the movie on Netflix, because it was the only wine in my cellar that I could think of that came from a desert area. Burrowing Owl is located on Silver Sage Road to the north of Osoyoos and its hot, dry vineyards produce some of the country’s finest grapes.
Blood Into Wine is not a typical documentary, any more than Keenan is a typical winery owner. It features plenty of scenes in the orchards and winery, along with interviews with local characters, but satirical snippets from a Keenan appearance on a fictional cable television talk show add some great moments of humour.
And Maynard James Keenan is as far from a typical rock star as one could imagine. He’s had success as the co-founder of Tool (music I’ve enjoyed at the recommendation of our oldest son), A Perfect Circle and Puscifer. By all accounts, Keenan is as comfortable appearing on stage with a painted face, fronting an alternative music band, as he is pruning vines and picking grapes. The documentary reveals him to be a complex, highly intelligent and deep-thinking individual who got into the wine business because he believed it could have a positive influence on the tiny town of Jerome. He clearly feels a deep connection to the land.
One of the most heartening interviews in Blood Into Wine was with a local environmentalist, who spoke about how vineyards are a good environmental and economic choice in an area where water is at a premium. The vines receive only moderate watering, all from a drip irrigation system, and the winery works to use water responsibly.
We found the documentary provided a rare combination of entertainment, education and enlightenment and I came away a fan of Keenan (a former West Point cadet whose great-grandparents owned vineyards and made wine in Italy) as a person. I like his thoughtfulness about what he is doing, and his passion for doing it right.
While our bottle of Burrowing Owl turned out to be a good match as we watched the movie, I look forward to the day that I locate a bottle or two of Caduceus, which Wine Spectator reviewer James Suckling had only positive things to say about.
The Keenan Caduceus, appropriately, features vines, not snakes, twined around a rod.
February 2012 – La Dolce Vita
cafe culture is a wine for coffee lovers
The bright red label on a promotional card stood out on our pub table. We had just sat at our table in a busy downtown Calgary Irish pub, having abandoned a group of wedding rehearsal participants, some of whom were proposing to walk to Chinatown and look for a restaurant that could accommodate as many as 20 people. On a Friday night? Count me out.
Simplicity was the key. “Café” dominated the label, its white letters standing out on the red background. In smaller letters below was the word “Culture”. Beneath that, small white letters on a black background indicated the bottle’s content was Pinotage, a wine typically associated with South Africa.
It was the description of the wine as much as the label that caught my eye, though. It promised that the wine had huge espresso and chocolate flavours. Hmmm. A nice Irish stew wrapped in a potato pancake would surely benefit from such a pairing, I was convinced.
We placed our order and soon the server made her way through the packed room to deliver our twist-top bottle. This wine is just flying out of here, she said, adding that she was surprised there was any left. At $33 a bottle it was a pretty reasonable buy for a city pub.
My eyebrows must have shot up when I took the first sip. It was indeed bursting with the taste and aroma of coffee and chocolate. Smooth and full-bodied, it proved to be a delicious wine that stood out quite nicely on its own. And, as expected, it was delicious with my meal.
The back of the label says: “The Cafe Culture is home to free spirits and trendsetters. Their wine is different, a unique Pinotage with a distinct coffee character. Deliciously ripe pinotage grapes have been persuaded to show an often hidden mocha flavour — nothing is added and nothing is taken away. They enjoy it on its own while chatting and debating into the night, or with whatever food they choose, even dessert! And they know it’s best while still young. Become a member — you won’t go back.”
As we walked back to our hotel room after dinner it was clear I had a new mission—seek out a wine store where Café Culture was available (the server couldn’t help us with that question).
The next day my visit to a couple of downtown shops was in vain. On Sunday, though, we headed to the south of the city, making our first stop at Willow Park Wines and Spirits. One of Canada’s largest retailers, WPWS is always one of our stops when we are in Calgary. In fact, on our way in to town a few days earlier we dropped in to pick up a bottle of Prosecco, a request from the young woman who would become our daughter-in-law on this memorable trip.
When we entered the store I headed straight for the South Africa wine section and there was the label I was looking for. Fourteen bottles sat on the shelf. At only $12.99 apiece I decided to buy a dozen and quickly laid them into a cart. Then Angela called me over to a display a few metres away. Stacks of cases of Café Culture stood tall, and a sign indicated that customers purchasing a full case would get a free set of sushi bowls and accessories. I put the bottles back on the shelf and placed a sealed case into my cart.
Café Culture is distinctively different from any other Pinotage I’ve tasted. A more typical version is earthy, even smoky, with hints of tropical fruit. The grape is a cross between Pinot Noir and Cinsault varieties. Some Pinotages will have just a tad of acetone on the nose.
I enjoyed reading one on-line reviewers comments: “This wine is completely different. I couldn’t believe that it had a mocha flavour! Seriously it’s got a mocha taste that is hard to describe in a wine. It’s just so good and lends itself to becoming a fully fledged alcoholic because you replace your morning coffee with Cafe Culture wine because it’s so good!”
When I was telling others about this discovery on the weekend, I jokingly referred to its versatility, saying that it could be a breakfast wine or a nightcap.
Produced by the huge KVW maker in South Africa, Café Culture is a very nice discovery this early in the year, one that bodes well for the rest of 2011.
January 2011 – La Dolce Vita
Simplicity was the key. “Café” dominated the label, its white letters standing out on the red background. In smaller letters below was the word “Culture”. Beneath that, small white letters on a black background indicated the bottle’s content was Pinotage, a wine typically associated with South Africa.
It was the description of the wine as much as the label that caught my eye, though. It promised that the wine had huge espresso and chocolate flavours. Hmmm. A nice Irish stew wrapped in a potato pancake would surely benefit from such a pairing, I was convinced.
We placed our order and soon the server made her way through the packed room to deliver our twist-top bottle. This wine is just flying out of here, she said, adding that she was surprised there was any left. At $33 a bottle it was a pretty reasonable buy for a city pub.
My eyebrows must have shot up when I took the first sip. It was indeed bursting with the taste and aroma of coffee and chocolate. Smooth and full-bodied, it proved to be a delicious wine that stood out quite nicely on its own. And, as expected, it was delicious with my meal.
The back of the label says: “The Cafe Culture is home to free spirits and trendsetters. Their wine is different, a unique Pinotage with a distinct coffee character. Deliciously ripe pinotage grapes have been persuaded to show an often hidden mocha flavour — nothing is added and nothing is taken away. They enjoy it on its own while chatting and debating into the night, or with whatever food they choose, even dessert! And they know it’s best while still young. Become a member — you won’t go back.”
As we walked back to our hotel room after dinner it was clear I had a new mission—seek out a wine store where Café Culture was available (the server couldn’t help us with that question).
The next day my visit to a couple of downtown shops was in vain. On Sunday, though, we headed to the south of the city, making our first stop at Willow Park Wines and Spirits. One of Canada’s largest retailers, WPWS is always one of our stops when we are in Calgary. In fact, on our way in to town a few days earlier we dropped in to pick up a bottle of Prosecco, a request from the young woman who would become our daughter-in-law on this memorable trip.
When we entered the store I headed straight for the South Africa wine section and there was the label I was looking for. Fourteen bottles sat on the shelf. At only $12.99 apiece I decided to buy a dozen and quickly laid them into a cart. Then Angela called me over to a display a few metres away. Stacks of cases of Café Culture stood tall, and a sign indicated that customers purchasing a full case would get a free set of sushi bowls and accessories. I put the bottles back on the shelf and placed a sealed case into my cart.
Café Culture is distinctively different from any other Pinotage I’ve tasted. A more typical version is earthy, even smoky, with hints of tropical fruit. The grape is a cross between Pinot Noir and Cinsault varieties. Some Pinotages will have just a tad of acetone on the nose.
I enjoyed reading one on-line reviewers comments: “This wine is completely different. I couldn’t believe that it had a mocha flavour! Seriously it’s got a mocha taste that is hard to describe in a wine. It’s just so good and lends itself to becoming a fully fledged alcoholic because you replace your morning coffee with Cafe Culture wine because it’s so good!”
When I was telling others about this discovery on the weekend, I jokingly referred to its versatility, saying that it could be a breakfast wine or a nightcap.
Produced by the huge KVW maker in South Africa, Café Culture is a very nice discovery this early in the year, one that bodes well for the rest of 2011.
January 2011 – La Dolce Vita
