huevos con vino

I took my wife to Canlis in Seattle for her birthday quite recently.  At dinner, I heard the sexiest thing anyone has ever told me:

“Are you in the industry?”

The sommelier asked me this question when I asked him whether they had the new Riedel Oregon Pinot Noir stemware yet.  I spotted a few Oregon Pinot glasses on another table, so I was a bit taken aback when he asked me, with complete sincerity, whether I was a wine professional.  I was tempted to say yes.  But I didn’t, and so we started talking about the merits of the glasses, why they’re indicative of how Oregon has arrived internationally, and so forth.  Yes, this was my wife’s birthday dinner, but hey: Anything for this blog, right?

Actually, we had a great time.  Sort of.  It was a really bizarre place to eat dinner, to be honest, but not because of the staff or the food.  More on that in a minute.

I got excited when, earlier that day, I read the Canlis wine list online and saw something interesting: a half-bottle of 2000 Domaine Drouhin Willamette Valley Pinot Noir.  Now, this is my wife’s favorite wine, from quite possibly her favorite vintage (1998 and 1999 are hard to ignore, though).  We had a bottle of 2000 Laurène once before with my wife’s family, which went over quite well with them (my wife’s mother described it as the third red wine she had ever enjoyed in her life).  I usually prefer to drink the Laurène Pinot Noir rather than the Willamette Valley (or Classique, as it is also called), but a 2000 is a 2000.  It’s hard to object when you know it’s going to be worthwhile, and it’s also a rare vintage at this point.  I had to look for a while to find a reasonably priced 2000 Laurène a couple of years ago; now, it’s all but gone from the gray market.

At $60 for a half-bottle, I was more than willing to place my order with the terrific sommelier.  Here are my notes on this wine:

• Aroma: Rich and dense yet straightforward and accessible; a tapestry of red and black cherry, black berries, dried hay, vanilla, and a hint of barnyard but in a good way.  Very, very enticing.
• Flavor: A beautifully restrained array of black cherry, oak and vanilla, smooth acidity and tannins, and a bit of smokiness and underbrush creep across your tongue.  Delicious.
• General impression: This wine is drinking quite well after several years in a half-bottle.  Truly a great wine from a wonderful vintage; I was excited to try this one and I’m glad I did!  Clearly I need to keep aging my younger Domaine Drouhin bottles.

The wine showed brilliantly; the sommelier was excited by my selection as he was an Oregon fan, so to speak.  Clearly, the wine was a winner.

Speaking of winners, Canlis was full of them.  The woman on the mobile phone who seemed genuinely shocked when the staff came and asked her to retire to the bar to complete her call.  The man wrestling with his friend over the check.  The entire family of late-middle-aged folks dutifully ignoring their father, sitting his wheelchair and trying to enjoy his ice cream.  And all the while, the Canlis waitstaff did a superlative job of remaining impenetrably professional as they flitted from one rich jackass to another.  Very amusing to watch.  Now I know why my father used to grumble about the “old codgers in that place” whenever, as a child with my parents, we’d drive by the restaurant.

My nom de plume on this blog is “huevos con vino.”  Therefore, it seems only fitting that Wine Blogging Wednesday #35 should cover Spanish wines and that I should, therefore, review a Spanish wine.  I rarely get to review Spanish wines because, well, I live in the Seattle area and I am awash in delicious local wines that offer a good bargain.  But it’s time to stretch my palate a bit and try something new!

That something new is the 2004 Group Galiciano Dehesa de Rubiales “Alaia.”  That’s a mouthful, so I’ll simply call this wine Alaia for the duration.  The Alaia comes from Toro, the Spanish region east of the town of Zamora.  Here’s a long article on Toro and why this little “denominación de origen” (or DO) is an increasingly popular place for wineries to put down roots, so to speak.  Here’s a helpful map of the different wine-growing regions in Spain.  Depending on where I look online, I see different information regarding specific DO names, DOCa names, and so forth.  So I’ll just say that Alaia comes from the Toro DO.  That’s good enough.

I chose the Alaia on the strength of a recommendation from the wonderful wine expert at The Spanish Table (TST) in Seattle.  She spent a good 20 minutes with me answering all of my rather silly questions, making good suggestions, and generally being patient as I stared at all of the wines.  Rather foolishly, I forgot to ask her name, but I think she was Catherine Reynolds since that’s the name of their Wine Manager.  She also writes their Wine Newsletters.

In terms of selection, TST is incredibly diverse.  Their selection of Spanish and Portugese red wines is amazing, particularly if you are looking for a good bargain (under $10).  Of course, if you want to spend $50, you can do that too.  But the range of value was exceptional, and they taste most (if not all) of the wines they stock.

So, Catherine recommended the Alaia to me in part for its uniqueness.  This wine is a blend of 50% Prieto Picudo, 45% Tempranillo, and 5% Merlot.  Yes, you read that right: Prieto Picudo.  What is this varietal, you might wonder?  I had the same question.  Prieto Picudo is a varietal unique to the León region of Spain, apparently.  As a wine grape, it is known to produce intensely smoky, fruity wines.  Catherine told me that this particular wine, with 50% Prieto Picudo in the mix, is as smoky as it gets for a wine. 

Now that sounds cool to me.  I like smoky Spanish and Mexican flavors in general (chipotle, mescal, tobacco, etc.).  Catherine also told me that whenever she gets this wine in stock, it sells out quickly as people rush back to buy more with their friends.  Nice.

Alaia is imported by Boutique Wine Collection of Philadelphia, PA.  Their info page on this wine is available here.  Apparently the 2004 Alaia spent 4 months in new French oak barrels, a quick hibernation for sure.  The alcohol content is rated as 12.5% on the Web site and 13.5% on the bottle, so I’ll assume it falls somewhere in between.

It is worth noting that Wine Advocate gave this wine a rating of 89, which is quite a good rating for a $7-$10 wine.  You can find Alaia for under $7/bottle at winelibrary.com; I picked up my bottle at TST in Seattle for $9.99.  Plus tax, of course.  Still, that’s a heck of a good deal for such a highly regarded wine.

Ahh, finally…the meat of the blog entry.  How does this wine taste?  And smell?  Good questions.  Read on:

• Aroma: Hmm…somewhat vegetal, like freshly cut blackberry vines, with an herbal spice on top. 
• Flavor: An expressive combination of blackberries, black figs, and nettles.  That herbal quality comes through in the finish, where the spicy nettle flavor shines through the fruit.  Somewhat tannic and acidic at first, but these elements fade after the wine has been exposed to the air for a while.
• General impression: A strange wine, not quite my taste as it is too vegetal and brackish.  Some smoky qualities but not as much as I was made to expect.

Overall, I can see how some people would like this wine, but the bramble and nettle flavors combined to make a really bizarre taste profile that just isn’t something I care for.  I fail to see how this wine could score an 89 anywhere, but that’s the beauty of aesthetic pleasures: They are all subjective.  Ultimately, however, this wine is a good value because, for $7, you can do far worse than the Alaia.  Perhaps it would taste better when paired with, say, smoked pork ribs or chipotle mayonnaise and French fries, both of which sound quite good right now.

In conclusion, I did appreciate this chance to stretch my palate and go somewhere new for a change.  Oregon is a terrific wine region but it’s good to branch out a little, and I look forward to trying other Prieto Picudo wines from Toro in the future!

You might have heard of Stag’s Leap Wine Cellars.  They are the winery that humbled the French in the famous “Judgment of Paris” tasting of 1976, not to be confused with the actual Judgment of Paris, which has been depicted on numerous occasions through oil and canvas.  SLWC, as they call themselves, are also not to be confused with Stags’ Leap Winery.  I know I have been guilty of confusing the two wineries in the past, so let me be clear up front: I’m quite sure I drank a bottle of wine from the venerable Stag’s Leap Wine Cellars.  Yes, upon reflection, I’m totally sure.

So, allow me to share a few details about SLWC.  They are best known for their trio of standout Cabernet Sauvignon releases:

• Fay - sourced from the Fay estate vineyard, usually about $80-100/bottle at release
• S.L.V. - sourced from the S.L.V. estate vineyard, usually about $100-$110/bottle at release (the 1973 release, priced at $6 originally, won big at the Judgment of Paris tasting)
• Cask 23 - sourced from the S.L.V. estate vineyard with a focus on a specific old block of vines (Block 4), usually about $150-$175/bottle at release

SLWC also make Artemis (a less expensive Cabernet), a Merlot, and Sauvignon Blanc and Chardonnay white wines.  Their historical portfolio is heavy on the reds, however, as the white wines are a more recent development that hinged in part on the Arcadia vineyard (which came online, so to speak, with the first Chardonnay crop in 1998).  You can learn more about the history of SLWC and their wines here.

Growing up in the Seattle area, I heard about SLWC wines fairly often.  I do not believe I ever got to try one, although I do remember visiting their winery when I was about 14 years old.  At least, I think I visited this winery.  I know I visited either SLWC or SLW.  I’d like to think I visited SLWC since I’m writing a review of their Fay release.

Anyway, if you grew up on the West Coast during the 1980s and 1990s, you were bombarded with California wines.  As a kid, I went to many wine stores with my dad, looking for new additions to his own collection.  And even as a kid, SLWC wines always stood out to me because of their international reputation that resulted from the 1976 Paris tasting event.  People spoke highly of them whenever we saw SLWC wines in the stores.  It’s sad, looking back, because I would bet that their Cask 23 and S.L.V. wines cost about $20-$40/bottle in the 1980s.  And to think, I wasted all that money on Kevin Maas baseball cards instead of wine!

In any case, I have been interested in SLWC wines for quite a long time, and I think this 1997 Fay was my first opportunity to taste one.  The 1997 Fay features mostly Cabernet Sauvignon (nearly 95%), with about 5% Merlot and a dash of Petit Verdot in the blend.  More details on this wine are available here.  When we sat down to drink this wine, we allowed it to decant for well over an hour before consumption, and we had steak and/or Copper River salmon with it.  So the food pairing was terrific.  As for the wine, here are my notes:

• Aroma: Fruity velvet, very smooth blueberry and oak bouquet.  A wonderful, promising aroma!
• Flavor: At first, lots of deep jammy fruit flavors focused on blackberry and black currant, perfectly smooth with flawlessly integrated tannins and acid.  Evolved into a peppery, spicy wine that closed out on a prolonged oaky, fruity note.  30-40 second finish on the palate.
• General impression: Expressive, complex, and well worth the money.  An incredibly indulgent wine, one that I’d like to try again someday.

If I had to sum up this experience, I’d simply say, “Wow!”  SLWC Fay is a great wine, and certainly an exceptional pairing with beef tenderloin or salmon.  Speaking of salmon, the wood-fired oven at The Met definitely imparted a woody, smoky flavor to the fish that only boosted the flavor profile of the wine. 

The name “Sea Smoke” is highly evocative.  When I hear this phrase, I imagine tendrils of fog slowly creeping across a dusky landscape of vineyards and cypress trees.  I also remember the bottles of Sea Smoke Cellars wine that I have had in the past year or so, and the special occasions that correspond with those bottles.  All of those occasions boil down to two things: dinner with good friends, and steak.  Big, juicy steak.  An unusual combination for typical Pinot Noir.

But Sea Smoke is no ordinary producer of Pinot Noir.  After their shining moment in the movie Sideways, the good people at Sea Smoke had it made.  Their lineup of three Pinot Noir releases (Botella, Southing, and Ten), plus their occasional Chardonnay release, has found serious acclaim and publicity.  The wines themselves are delicious, fairly hard to obtain, and often talked about in the wine community.  In essence, Sea Smoke has become a cult producer of American Pinot Noir, for better or worse.

This reputation as a cult winery is mostly deserved, in my opinion.  At $28/bottle, the 2004 Botella was an absolute steal, and one of the best Pinot Noirs I’ve had.  This wine is worth about $100/bottle at this point, which is excessive for a wine of which 1,200 cases were made.  But this is how you know Sea Smoke is a cult winery: They generate aftermarket demand on a scale that would impress any small business owner.  I had the pleasure of drinking the 2004 Botella on two separate occasions, at a steakhouse and at a Japanese restaurant, and the wine went much better with steak than with sashimi.  Interesting.  I do have to admit, though, that Botella and matsutake soup are an amazing combination.

I also had the 2004 Southing with steak.  This wine was almost more like a Shiraz at first, with roast meat characteristics that I do not usually associate with Pinot Noir.  But as a companion to beef tenderloin, this wine was outstanding, better even than the Cabernet Sauvignon we drank after we polished off the Southing bottles (all 4 of them).  At $49/bottle and 2,400 cases made, the Southing has not escalated in aftermarket value like its brethren; you can find this wine for about $90/bottle or less at online stores, and recent auctions have seen this wine sell for under $60/bottle.  I like this wine a lot, although as I said it really features a very different varietal character than most Pinot Noirs I have tried.

Until very recently, I had not yet tried the 2004 Ten.  But since my friends and I were heading to The Metropolitan Grill for some steak, it seemed like the right time to crack open my lone bottle of Ten.  How did it go?  Quite well, I’d say:

• Aroma: At first, a lot of fruit and floral elements - red cherry and red plum with rose, vanilla, and spice.  Over time, the bouquet shifted toward a cherry cola essence that was quite unexpected.  Overall, the aroma seemed to be a finely focused blend of oak and fruit, with the emphasis on cherries and vanilla.
• Flavor: Rich, sumptuous, very full mouthfeel with well-integrated acid and tannic activity.  Black cherry and blackberry dominate the flavor profile; very long finish on the palate.  Very enjoyable and ready to drink now for sure.
• General impression: An interesting wine; I can see why people refer to this wine as something un-Pinotesque, although I thought it had strong Pinot Noir character to it.  Is it worth over $200/bottle?  I’ll leave that decision up to you.  It is certainly worth the $69 I paid in 2006. 

As I said, I had this wine at The Metropolitan Grill, where they just got in some 2005 Sea Smoke Ten.  Their price of $170/bottle is actually a good value given the astronomical aftermarket pricing of previous vintages, although you can get the 2005 for under $85/bottle right now.  The 2004 is obtainable at auction for about $120, which is still a decent value.  However, for the price I would prefer to buy 2-3 bottles of Hirsch Pinot Noir, to be honest.

That said, the 2004 Ten is a terrific wine.  I’d drink it again anytime.  Unfortunately, I am unable to afford such luxuries, which is probably for the best.  As my wife says, “It only makes you appreciate it more.”  A very practical woman, my wife.  Then again, she also loved this wine….

I had a very strange Friday.  We went up to the Salish Lodge in Snoqualmie for our friends’ wedding, which was absolutely beautiful.  But my wife came down with a very nasty stomach ailment right after the ceremony, so we wound up spending the rest of the evening in our room.  I spent most of that time trying to keep her comfortable while course after course arrived from the dinner reception going on elsewhere in the Lodge.  It’s really odd to receive an amuse bouche while your wife is doubled over in the hotel bathroom.  The waitstaff didn’t seem to mind, bless their little uniformed hearts.

Anyway, I decided that the only appropriate way to celebrate the wedding without actually being at the reception was to get some champagne.  So I ordered a half-bottle of Veuve Clicquot Demi-Sec champagne, one of my favorites.  The wonderful service staff at the Lodge showed up rather quickly with a bucket, some ice, and two glasses, although the staffmember already knew that my wife was feeling terrible.  An amusing discussion ensued before I sent away the staff and got down to the enjoyable task of opening the bottle myself.

Typically I love to shoot champagne corks as far as possible, but this champagne is too good to waste like that.  I carefully opened the bottle and had no spillage of the precious, precious champagne.  I did get a pleasing sound from the cork, though.

The champagne was terrific, as usual: Very sweet (it has a lot more added sugar than a Brut, for example), lovely with food, lots of biscuit, hay, and green apple aromas.  A delicious champagne.  I was very pleased to discover that it made the green apple sorbet even better, too!  One of the wedding meal courses was a martini glass filled with green apple sorbet.  I poured some champagne over the sorbet and the whole thing tasted about ten times better, which is saying something.

In the end, I drank the half-bottle on my own while my wife watched.  She really wanted me to enjoy myself, and she felt terrible about feeling terrible, which is always a fun personal guilt trip for one’s self.  I wound up feeling gnarly the next morning, mostly because I got dehydrated after all that champagne and sugar.  Plus, I ate most of my wife’s meal too, so I ended up having about 13 courses of food the night before.  Yikes.

The moral of the story?  Demi-sec champagne is terrific, but find a partner to share your bottle.