the demi-bouteille of Château Fourcas Hosten

On my last evening in Bordeaux, I wanted something rustic. That old-school French cooking. I found it at La Tupina.

Wood burning grill ... game meat hanging ... thick tablecloths and heavy cutlery. I really, really love France. And French people, for that matter. It's the little things they do, that marks them so differently than the Spanish, or at least the Catalans. I don't want to be picking on them, but for example - a Spaniard restaurant will always assume you speak no Spanish, and give you an English menu. They won't care if you (try to) speak Spanish, nor will they deign to attempt any English. I've even had people laugh at me for my admittedly poor castellano. The French, in contrast, welcome you trying to speak in their language - they appreciate the effort. Why is that? We're all just trying our best, aren't we? I'm in your country, I want to at least try to learn a bit of your language, not fumble around with poorly translated English menu items.

We, however, shouldn't generalize. After all, when we are in a foreign country, we have an obligation to understand and respect local customs and traditions. If the Spanish choose to act un-civil and boorish to visitors, well, that's their prerogative. The staff of La Tupina were a delight, recommending me to start with the classics: frog legs mounted on a parsley and garlic sauce, followed by grilled duck breast. All I had to think about was what to drink.

2004 Château Fourcas Hosten, AC Listrac-Médoc. I know, I know. A half-bottle?! In my defense, I just finished a long day driving around Sauternes, and I had an early appointment the next morning at Château de Fargues with Philippe de Lur Saluces - not the kind of rendezvous one shows up tardy and disheveled for. So I contented myself with a simple red Bordeaux, just approaching maturity. This wine was a joy. Lustrous red in colour, fully open aromas - dark fruit, minerally and fresh. Tight-knit tannins showing its as yet unreached plateau, but with an already elegant and fine texture. Utterly satisfying, and proving yet again that 2004 is a vintage that will dance at 20 years of age.

It's the little things that matter during this job search too. At the risk of sounding boorish myself, it's important to remind yet and again that it's my duty - my obligation - to stay true to the things I gained during the MBA, and its value. It's hard, most definitely. But as even this half-bottle of simple Bordeaux showed, there's a character in all of us that takes just the right circumstances to reveal itself.

What a magnificent 4 days in Bordeaux.

DF

some really cool stuff. like real cool.

The wine scene in Barcelona can be pretty cool, if you know where to look. One shop that's a favourite of mine is Vila Viniteca - well worth the journey to El Born. Last summer, for dinner at a friend's, I wanted to bring some interesting bottles. Whether we would like them or not was sort of not the point. We just wanted to drink some cool shit. This one, the Battliu de Sort Biu Blanc from the Costers del Segre DO, was certainly one of them. A blanc de noirs made from 100% pinot noir, all those aromatic, floral pinot notes in a bone dry, textural style.

Buying French wine in Catalunya? Maybe not a great idea. But this, I couldn't pass. For about 20€, a taste of the earth, the minerals, the sublime elegance of even the most simple country wine.

Mencía, particularly from Riberia Sacra, was one of the great discoveries I made in Spain. What a wine, what a DO. Lithe, mineral, tension filled wines that I wish I could have more of in my cellar.

A gift from a friend who visited Croatia. Sadly, on my list of places I was not able to go to during my time in Europe. Fresh, bright wines that are sublime with grilled meats.

Long weekend here in Canada, as we ease into August. I'm trying not to be demoralized as I continue job-hunting ... trying to stay positive. You have in your head all these great things to do, great contributions to make now that I've earned my MBA. I just want a chance to prove myself - now I need someone willing to take me on.

DF

L'Anima del Vi, delivering truth in wine

T: 2007 Coll de Sabater | DO Conca de Barberà

B: 2012 Lapierre Morgon

It's been a rough week.

There was a wine trade show last week in Düsseldorf called Prowein. I really wanted to go. And if I went, I would have most likely taken a Germanwings flight. I've flown with them before. It's a good airline, and although we are very used to these types of carriers here in Europe, I think it needs to be made clear for my fellow N. Americans that low cost carriers are in fact extremely safe, and (generally) very pleasant to fly with. As more details come out, this whole event becomes more and more unspeakably horrific. It hits close to home, and not because of me - because of the many German classmates I have, who I know have been affected by what happened. 

Monday's news hit like a thunderbolt. On Thursday I was hit by an earthquake. My neighbour (from back home) of nearly 20 years, has been given 6 months to live. He beat cancer once. It came back last summer, and now the doctors have stopped treatment. I don't know what to think. I don't know what to say. He is a good and kind man and doesn't deserve this.

With so much death and suffering around ... I can't handle it. I'd like nothing more than to get out of Barcelona for a few days, go to the beach, get some food, some good drinks ... but that doesn't make this past week make any more sense to me. No enlightenment possible, why these things happen. So I suppose we keep going, keep putting our heads down and charging forward. The only way to go.

L'Anima del Vi is one of my favourite wine places in the world. Yes. Todo el mundo. It's not particularly cozy, it's not totally comfortable, but it's totally honest, and totally unique. The man in the middle of it all? One of the greatest people in wine I've ever met, and someone I'm proud to consider a friend - even if we don't sometimes understand each other. The homie, Benoît, a Frenchman in Spain, bringing in some of the shining lights of biodynamic and natural wine, from his homeland and his adopted country. A while back, when my brother was visiting me over the summer, I took him here, for one boozy evening. We started with a Spanish wine, the Coll de Sabater, a Bordeaux style blend that was at once concentrated and rich, yet harmonious and pure. And then I had to show him the Lapierre Morgon (and share a few glasses with Benoît). Such grace and precision, reminding me why my life will be devoted to this magical, ethereal, mysterious nectar.

It's been a rough week. None of it makes sense. There are no words of comfort, no solace we can find. So for me, I go back and find inspiration in the things that mean the world to me. There is still good in this world, I'm sure of it. Just a little hard to see at this moment.

DF

a little birdy

2011 Domaine Didier Grappe Les Insouciantes | AC Côtes du Jura

Something new, something to challenge what you think you know.

We can think all these things when we're in the thick of it, when emotions are raging ... but the only people in this world who are selfless in our lives, who give everything ... the only people are our parents. Not our friends, not our lovers, not even our relatives. Being an immigrant, and now, a student studying abroad - our notions of what 'family' is may be different from what tradition dictates. How much does being 'blood' count for? As this wino sees it, not much. Not much. Family isn't an obligation, isn't an absolute ... my family is the ones who I love the most, who've been there for me, who really know DF. And that's more than I can say for blood.

With the steak, I went back to France. A taste of home, a taste of what I know best. And more than just a French wine, it was a natural, out of the Jura. Pinot noir, trousseau, and poulsard. Benoit, of L'Anima del Vi, is a natural wine savant. Genius really, and truly an inspiration - someone to go see when your love of wine needs some re-affirmation, some inspiration. He brings this in, and while I'm surrounded by vinous riches in Spain, these bottles are still a rarity. Fresh, pure, mineral, exciting - all those adjectives that confirm why you want to make this your life. The second day, develops in the most amazing way, like it was two different wines. A nuttiness, a savoury peanut-y, almond-y note on both nose and palate that was so tangible, so real. Sweaty and red in the face.

Family. I suppose I'm a bit cold at first, but when I get to know a person, when we have trust - we fam, cuz. And like these naturals, as outsiders, maybe we have to look outside what we think are those normal, neat boxed definitions, and just trust instincts, feelings, emotions. The reckless? No. We create our own destiny.

DF

a handlebar and a cane

2012 Vini Viti Vinci Les 4 Z'Amis | Vin de France

I'm in business school, but I'm still that same shit-disturber. I don't believe in subterfuge, that utter nonsense. I still believe in the purity of things - that success and glory comes from quality, from hard work, from the pureness of the craft. 

Let's talk wine. Great wine - and I mean the great, impressive wines of the world - seems to derive more as a function of clever marketing and branding than what's in the bottle. What's tangible. What touches the heart, more than the head. It's how I feel about basketball. We can talk that bullshit about Drake, about rumours of Vince Carter coming back, about the new uniforms ... but you know what has put the Toronto Raptors back on the map? The bold, genius moves of Raptors GM Masai Ujiri and the inspired play of our boys, Derozan, Johnson, and Lowry, led by our finest ever coach, Dwane Casey. The purity of things, where success and recognition comes from pure talent and merit, rather than any exterior elements. And I know we're supposed to be business-minded and think about other things. It's not all about the quality of the product. But imagine, if we can live in a world where the truly noteworthy and deserving get to show their qualities. I want to live in that world.

I'm obsessed with this one woman here. Who it is isn't important ... or rather, I don't feel like sharing. But we see relationships in the same way, no? We want to be with something who is with us for the pure fact that we belong together, that we share the same spirit. I have no job prospects, no 6-figure position waiting for me. I want to do something that is low-margin, that is dirty, that is sweaty. And so we suffer the slings and arrows, all those cliches, to find someone who will suffer along with us.

And what does this all have to do with this wine, a natural wine from Burgundy? What is a naked man wearing a checked napkin doing resting his dick on a stick?

DF

IESE Wine & Spirits at L'Anima del Vi

2012 Xavier Benier 'Pur Jus' | AC Beaujolais-Villages
2012 Simon Busser 'Sauvages' | AC Cahors
2012 Cueva by Mariano Vino Natural | DO Utiel-Requena | Valencia

Take courage when the road is long

Don't ever forget you're never alone

I want you to live forever

Underneath the sky so blue

I want you to live forever

Underneath the sky so blue

- Live Forever, Drew Holcomb & The Neighbors

I'm so proud to announce the official kicking off of the IESE Wine & Spirits Club, at an event that was at once both a realization of a personal dream as well as a statement about Europe as a continuing source of inspiration in wine. Firstly, much gratitude and credit to my other club officers for helping me set up IWS, as well as this first tasting.

And what a tasting it was.

This (as yet) adolescent wine adventure has been a roller-coaster, so to speak. Barcelona's been fantastic for cheap and cheerful bottles, but we should never be settling, no ... never accepting. Give me a decent bottle, or I'll break your fingers. Nicely. Gently. Because without a challenge, without constant change, we get lazy, we get complacent, we start to think we know it all. And if I want to accomplish anything with IWS, it's to challenge our members' perception of what wine is, what taste is ... in short, everything they thought they knew about wine. If I can get just one person to say, You know what, eff this, I'm drinking this the way I want to drink it, I think we've done our job. Hack at the feet, pull that noose tight around its neck ... let's pull down those statues the old standby worshipped, and be free to have our own personal relationship with wine.

Right. Back to the tasting, before I took a sharp right. There's a tiny wine bar in Barcelona, in one of my favourite neighbourhoods. El Born is such a cool place, with all these little alleys hidden away in dark corners. And in one of them stands L'Anima del Vi, run by a man absolutely committed to natural wines. Benoit brings in interesting things, across France and Spain ... and the latter was the big learning for me. I've been to L'Anima del Vi many, many times, always finding something new to taste, something inspiring. I never knew that there was such a large group of Spanish natural winemakers, but there are - and they're doing a great job. Wines of great depth and purity, with all the sunshine-y brightness you expect from Spain. As I said to my members, this first tasting was organized partly for selfish reasons, and partly because I wanted to set the tone for what IWS will stand for. Selfish, because I'm a bit obsessed with natural wines at the moment ... but more importantly, IWS will be about real wines, true wines, and wines that sing of honesty, authenticity, and character.

After all that build up, how did the wines show? Benoit chose some good ones. Beginning with a Beaujolais-Villages (100% gamay), sharp and expressive, like a rapier. Deadly acidity, screeching in the natural style. The Sauvage Cahors was next. Simon Busser, a disciple of Olivier Cousin in the Loire, who returned to the Cahors to make wines of great finesse and depth. Dark, with an animale personality that roars on the bouquet, yet coos on the palate. A bit of love from the fact that Simon farms these 100% malbec wines with horses? Or simply because he's able to stick to the principles (zero sulphur) yet create these magical wines that change a hundred times in the glass. We ended with a Spanish wine from Valencia made from a varietal that no one's even heard of, much less tasted. Bobal, a native grape, and for all intents and purposes, a minor blending varietal. And as luck would have it (or the other way around), the winemaker was at the next table. Immediately recognizable as a lush, full-blooded Spaniard (the wine, but also the man). Sunshine and spice, like all things nice. Soft and round, that glorious ripe, raisin-tinged fruit.

Good. A good start. The Chairman is pleased. Many thanks and much appreciation for those who attended, and all those who supported IWS. Many, many, many big things coming up for us!

DF

Green Man & French Horn

Our last night in London, I wanted some French food. And some French wine. And holy Mary, I got both. Green Man & French Horn, a charming, cozy little place off Leicester Square featuring Loire cuisine and wines, including a deep selection of natural wine producers. A brisk, rainy night, we started with the freshest radishes, sea salt and butter ...

...  followed by a salad of foie gras ...

... and continuing with a beautifully cooked, pink, roast partridge and chanterelles ...

... before ending with our server's suggestion of Saint-Nectaire cheese.

Top: Les Cailloux du Paradis L'Icaunais | VdF

Bottom: Puzelat Bonhomme Le Telquel | VdF

But what put me into hysterics was the wine. I was desperate for some French wine, something interesting, something inspiring ... something with deep, deep feeling. And it's amazing that I actually found it in not one, but two bottles in one restaurant. By far the most exciting, intense wine experience I've had in the past 12 months.

What is humility? Is it to deflect praise, to spread the credit, to be unassuming? Yes. But in wine, in these wines, it's a bit more. It's that indescribable, awe-inspiring way a winemaker totally subjugates himself (or herself) into the wine. They not only express what the wine is ... they become the wine. The two wines here are not correct. In fact, many people would probably find them unacceptable. But they are unapologetically true to themselves - true confidence. Look at the first bottle, the Les Caillous du Paradis L'Icaunais. It's from Touraine, made by Etienne and Claude Courtois. It's made from the gascon varietal, a completely native (and incredibly rare) grape. On flint soil, the wines are aged in old wooden tanks and bottled in the spring. Good brightness of colour, an immediate minerality and freshness, but what's most amazing is this feeling of purity. An absolute purity, in aroma and texture. Earthy but with great finesse - an excellent example that proves that elegance and rusticity are sometimes in union.

So we finished dinner - fantastic - and I needed to have another wine. The list has all these incredible old vintages from Chinon, but I really wanted to taste another natural wine. So we sat on the bar, and the bartender poured me a Puzelat Bonhomme Le Telquel. Mind blown. Made by Thierry Puzelat, the wine pours completely cloudy, a pale, faint colour reminiscent of my father's homemade grape juice project. You smell it, and the wine smells pickled. But on the palate, that beautifully floral fruit, those red berries, those fine, compact tannins that coat your mouth in the most gripping, interesting way. Pinned down and ravaged by a Rubenesque French woman - a life changing experience. Mon Dieu.

In a lot of ways, London was disappointing. But for this night, all was right. All was right. Inspired me all over again that I want to be in this business, I need to be in this business. Humility, honesty, authenticity, the holy trinity of what it means to be a true wine. Something for me to keep in mind as I inch towards my first MBA finals.

DF

the last 3 bottles, finally saying goodbye

1997 Fleury Extra Brut Champagne | AC

2007 Cantina dei Produttori Nebbiolo di Carema | DOC Carema
1995 Oddero Barolo | DOCG

It's been three weeks in this city, and yeah, things are coming together. After a few rough ones, today was a good day.

The last bit of it. The last three wines I had in Toronto, the last three in the cellar that I simply had to open and share with the people most important to me. Each bottle, an interesting background, but it was never intentional to drink them together. But as these things usually end up, sometimes the most transcendent wine experiences happen by a happy accident. I suppose above all, the wines were originally bought to celebrate something. And then things happened and I felt so strongly that I had nothing, absolutely nothing to celebrate. So on the last Friday before I left Toronto for a long, long time, it finally made sense to allow myself, for one night at least, to celebrate.

These last meals - nothing epic. But I did have a few more roast ducks, some braised sea cucumber. Good, comforting home food. My mother's cooking which I won't be able to have for the next while. Onto new things, but it's good to remember what's important. We started with the Fluery Extra Brut. Bought for Christmas a few years ago, but left because it seemed so inappropriate to be drinking Champagne when I was miserable with my job, with what to do next, with my life. And I figured the 1997, tightly wound, would do fine with a few more years horizontally. Opening with a soft, satisfied sigh, the wine was stunning. So structured, very expressive - lovely creaminess and vinosity, that tension running all the way through. A grand, dignified wine.

I was really excited to see the Carema on shelves. We see a good amount of Barolo, Barbaresco, even a bit of Nebbiolo di Langhe. But these smaller areas of the Langhe, no, either the Piedmontese drink it all themselves or the number-crunchers of the LCBO got in the way. There's only two major producers in Carema anyways - and they're amazing. People need to experience these exciting, original, historical wines. This one, a young 2007 Riserva was eye-opening, mind-blowing, and other similarly over-the-top superlatives. Light in colour, focused and just singing of flowers and earth, minerals and bright red fruit. Tensile and linear, very fine, angular tannins. So true to itself, so proudly of the countryside. An incredible learning experience. And ending with the 1995 Oddero, a bottle I picked up from New York's Chambers Street Wines. My prize bottle, a first experience with mature Barolo. This is Oddero's normale cuvée, which comes from two vineyards -Bricco Chiesa and Bricco Fiasco - vines with an average age of 35 to 50 years. No French oak, all traditional large, old casks. And as much as I wanted to love it, wanted to adore it ... the bottle was flawed. Slight heat damage, that oily, rubbery aroma. But, red fruit still there, fine tannins, silky texture. Developing a good sweetness on the palate as well. A good end to the night. 

Our flat in Barcelona has been having a lot of issues. No hot water for 12 days, filthy, poor finishings. But today, that all changed. We had our hot water fixed a few days ago, but today, our cleaning lady came for the first time. Everything's sparkling now, inspiring me to take a mop and glass cleaner to my own room. I can finally walk barefoot, yet another step closer to feeling at home here. Went to IKEA - in my head, a quick trip to pick up some things, which turned into a 5 hour session. But, did buy a lot of things that I'm excited to get using. A knife, peeler, a glass - pillows, shower curtains, and yes, a flower I've decided to name Miss Pink. Things are coming together now, and I've gotten a lot more familiar with Barcelona. Trying to balance between staying at home, going out to meet people, and wandering the city. Tougher than expected, and really, the shit hasn't even hit the fan yet. Visited a wine shop today, Vila Viniteca, considered the best shop in town. And it certainly is impressive. Picked up a few interesting things, including an Equipo Navajos "Florpower" ...

It's been three weeks.

DF

the sweet with the sweet

2005 Château Suau | AC Sauternes | Deuxième Grand Cru Classé
1997 Château Suduiraut | AC Sauternes | Premier Grand Cru Classé
1988 Château Lamothe Guignard | AC Sauternes | Deuxième Grand Cru Classé

And that's sweet. The sweet being the last things of a meal, you know, the thing which you take to bed with, the thing which you remember, most of all.

- Albert Roux, Marco cooks for Albert Roux

Sauternes excites me. How a wine can be so concentrated, so rich, so very much grand - yet remain complex, pure, and elegant. Extravagance and flair, grace and precision. Truly a great wine of the world. And so I was so excited to be opening a trio of wines I've had for a long, long time. Sauternes seems almost like a celebratory wine, a real treat. And for the longest time, I felt like I had nothing to celebrate. You know what ... I'm not good with being happy, with being satisfied with things. Almost feels wrong (and a bit naughty) to feel good about how things are. But a few days before I left Toronto, we cooked up some seafood, got some roast duck, and iced the bottles.

Sauternes belongs on the dinner table. Period. The interplay between sweet and savoury mirrors that of Chinese cuisine exactly, and instead of fighting for attention (as most people assume), all those flavours and aromas come together in a wonderful warm embrace. Acidity plays a huge role in this harmony, as always. And with age and maturity, the youthful exuberance of Sauternes turns into something entirely different - drier, more elegant, more textural, more mineral.

Sauternes in half bottles are reputed to age faster, but of course, every bottle is different. I've had these bottles for quite a few years now, and I was thrilled to find them in beautiful condition. The Suau, a more humble producer, showing all the richness and brightness of the grand 2005 vintage. Bursting with rich tropical fruit, those botrytis apricot aromas. The Suduiraut was the star of the evening. This 1997 was so mineral, so complex - clearly a regal wine. Lithe yet supple in texture on the palate, developing a great creaminess and length. And ending with a bottle I picked up in April when I visited New York's famous Chambers Street Wines, the '88 Lamothe Guignard's cork crumbled as I drew it with a screwpull, but the wine was gorgeous. Mature aromas reminiscent of wood furniture, dates, and nuts. Minerality still present, but does altogether seem to be getting a little tired. Good amounts of sweetness on the palate, a soft kiss and whisper on the finish.

Truly a great evening. Roast duck from my favourite Chinese deli, sea cucumber in chicken broth - a little bit of happiness that puts a smile on my face whenever I'm a bit homesick.

DF

The Bandol that started it all

2004 Domaine Le Galantin | AC Bandol

I felt deeply conflicted as I uncorked this bottle. This particular wine holds great significance to me as it was the first wine I wrote about here, the wine that really started LCF all those years ago. I was always fascinated with these country wines, these wines that were unabashedly, unapologetically from the dirt and rock. Le Galantin was certainly one of them. I remember how ferocious this wine was, even after all this time. I bought two of these way back in second year university - the first bottle opened soon after, tannins so severe and hard my eyes teared up. Second one kept until now, under less than optimal conditions.

Immediately, the foil and cork looked terrible. Wine seeping through, depositing a sticky mess under the capsule. Cork soaked through, but still relatively intact. Fine, almost muddy sediment. Decanted it off, and had a quick taste.

Extraordinary.

Bandol, an area in the south of France producing rich, tannic monsters. Made of predominantly mourvèdre grapes (at least 50% by law), the wines are long-lived and celebrate those brett-y, barnyard-y characters of the countryside. And I remember this wine to be above all, stinky. As much stank in a wine as you can imagine - borderline undrinkable at the time. With a few years of bottle age, it begins making sense. The brett transforming into a wild, savoury quality, the minerality finally revealing itself, that blood iron aroma. Fruit, pure and sweet. Alcohol quite heady at 14.5%, but the palate carries it well, becoming sweeter and sweeter. Finely knit tannins, fully resolved and leaving just a tickle of texture on the finish.

Truth to the notion that even moderate terms of bottle age will benefit even modest wines. So why the conflicted feelings? Maybe I'm just complicated like that. Maybe there was this thing in the back of my head that once I uncorked this one, it would be gone. But I drank it with two of my best mates, the people I care most about. And I remember why we do this, that who you share wine with has as much meaning as what's in the glass.

DF

the last of it

2004 Château de L'Estang | AC Côtes de Castillon

I try not to be overly sentimental about wine. But feelings are feelings, and when you come to the last bottle of a wine from your impressionable, naive youth, you have so many feels. The 2004 L'Estang was one of the first bottles of Bordeaux I bought for the cellar - 5 in total. At the time, I was blown away how an $18 wine could be so complex, so interesting, so delicious. So, many years later, and steadily sampling a bottle every year, I finally got to the last one.

The last one.

Tighter than the one I opened last year, more angular in structure. Those classic cabernet notes, matured fruit and underbrush. Autumnal. A subtle, graceful wine. 

How things have changed in a year. We go on, we try to improve ourselves, and if we're lucky, we have someone to grow alongside with, to build something together. But clearly, at this stage, I'm in no position to ask that of anybody. Not nobody. So we go on as best as we can, with what we have. I went to church with my parents yesterday. They asked me to come, to say goodbye to everyone, because I don't go. It was nice seeing some familiar faces, getting everyone's best wishes. We had lunch with a couple afterwards as well, which was very kind of them. Lots of good advice being shared, but above all, to be brave, to find your own path, and if one doesn't exist - to create your own. Much appreciation.

With the last bottle, there isn't a feeling of sadness. There's rather a lightness of spirit, that all the prior experiences have contributed to develop you into the person you are today. I'm ready to get this started.

DF

Saying goodbye to old friends

Top: 1996 Baron-Fuenté Grand Millésimé Brut Champagne
Middle: 1993 Château Lafite Rothschild | AC Pauillac
Bottom: 2005 Domaine Du Petit Métris 'Les Tetuères' | AC Chaume 

He was kindhearted, in a way. You know the sort of kind heart: it made him uncomfortable more often than it made him do anything; and even when he did anything, it did not prevent him from grumbling, losing his temper and swearing (mostly to himself).

― J.R.R. Tolkien, Leaf by Niggle

I think of myself as a sincere, kind, and well-intentioned person. And lately, I've been failing at it. Not by design, mind you - it's just that nothing I do seems to be right. I desperately want to do the right thing, the honourable thing, the things that will let me sleep soundly at night. Why do I do this to myself? Self-loathing? Shades of masochism? Self-destructive tendencies?

It's my last week at home before I make the big move. The big move. So I'm allowed to be a little emo, to sob a bit. This is probably (like yesterday) a terrible idea, but they do say that it's therapeutic to get things down in writing, so here we go. I try not to have any regrets, but I'm struggling with (at least) one major regret. My friends have been great and supportive, but when the table is cleared, the dishes are washed and put away, and everyone has gone home, I get what they call the post-performance blues. It sucks. I love my friends, and they're the most important people in my life, but we still need a partner - someone who takes on that different role that friendships can't fill. When you feel like you've had that with someone, and it's suddenly no more, that's the worst. Because you've had a taste of how amazing things are when you're with someone who gets you, who you want to be with even if you're not doing anything, who just feels comfortable to be around.

Utterly, utterly alone. Maybe I'm being a child, maybe (as my buddy says) I need to do everyone a favour and stop with the emails/messages/texts. But how do you control your feelings? I don't know how. Time? Booze? Other distractions? My mind fell into the rabbit-hole and for the life of me, I have no idea which way is up.

We had dinner recently with old friends. Sort of my last chance to cook and drink with everyone at home. We drank some interesting things. Started with a Champagne that was just starting to mature - the 1996's are certainly a powerhouse. Moving onto a bottle that these friends gave me a few years ago ... it was only proper that we waited for the Lafite to turn 20, and drink together. No decant, a masterclass in how these estates still produce wine of great elegance and charm in difficult vintages. And ending with something sweet, a Chaume that was powerful, rich, and complex.

This is becoming very difficult for me, as my time in Toronto is ending. Very difficult. I try to do the right thing, but I never seem to be able to vocalize what I really want to say, never seem to be able to express what I'm really feeling - in the moment. And so I go home and sit and stew over it, beating myself up. Physical trauma, I can deal with. But the heart? I don't know how to handle this anymore. I just don't.

DF

different shades, different perspectives

2010 Domaine Berthet-Bondet Chardonnay | AC Côtes du Jura

Do you know what you'd like this evening, sir?

Yes, I think I do. After reading a lot of overheated puffery about your new cook, you know what I'm craving? A little perspective. That's it. I'd like some fresh, clear, well seasoned perspective. Can you suggest a good wine to go with that?

- Anton Ego, Ratatouille (2007)

We want different perspectives in all things because without the capacity of considering all sides, we remain dull and ignorant. We think we know chardonnay - what seems to be the most ubiquitous of white wines - but the Jura has plenty of surprises. That wonderful oxidation, that freshness and energy. A wine that's alive. As in all things, a look from another point of view enriches, enlightens, and inspires us. 

DF

Stiff right hook, flat on my back

Top: 2010 Jacques Puffeney Poulsard | AC Arbois
Bottom: 2009 Domaine de l'Aigle À Deux Têtes Chardonnay | AC Côtes du Jura

We know when we meet the one - the one that takes our breath away, the one that was meant to be. So what is it when we meet not just one, but two wines that do that to us, at the same time?

We never learn when things are too easy, when we get too comfortable. It's not to say we have to live in constant misery and pain, but we would all do better with some discomfort. I had a good last couple of days. Lots of events that were lined up for #TeamLCF, and got to catch up with some old friends at the Spoke Club on Friday, friends I haven't talked to in a long time. Had dinner Saturday evening with 3 of my nearest and dearest, drinking some very interesting bottles. And amidst all that, I can't help but feel rueful that while I have a professional path set down, my personal life remains a mess. Yesterday was July 21st. And I couldn't stop thinking about burgers on the beach and Niagara rieslings. I know, this is just getting pathetic and unnecessary for everyone. But this past year, this experience has been as meaningful as anything MBA-related. More than two months and I still don't know how to deal with it.

This wine experience, while a shock, thankfully brings sweeter memories. As in all things, I want wines that challenge, that excite, that make you question every presumption you think you had. From the Jura, my first poulsard (found in New York City's extraordinary Chambers Street Wines) and a chardonnay released the week after I returned from NYC (a beautiful accident?). Both young wines, but already so expressive, so full of character. The poulsard, from the esteemed Puffeney estate, all pale and amber-tinged, but showing all kinds of savoury aromas. Iron notes, beautiful dried roses, and that minerality underlining it all. So tight, so precise, so full of energy and life. Tannic like you wouldn't believe - a wine that shocks and surprises, and hammers home how little you know about wine. A truly unique varietal, grown in a truly unique place. The chardonnay, so much varietal character. Fresh and vibrant, great extraction. Linear and sinewy, perfect for the table. Showing how great controlled oxidation can be, if the winemaking is top-notch.

We learn from mistakes, we learn from bad experiences of poor judgement and circumstances. But we hold to the hope that they make us better for it. 

DF

fulfilling obligations

Still playing catch-up. A few weeks ago, we had family friends over for dinner. We take turns, and it was our obligation turn to host. Out to the market in the morning, picking up the most amazing live B.C. spotted prawns, among other things.

We shared my (school) news with everyone. No one cared. Not a single fuck given. But it's cool, I wouldn't have cared either. We can smile and act all nice, but at the end of it all, we all need to be selfish to survive here. My first chance to drink some rosé this year, and one of my favourites - the Mas des Bressades Cuvée Tradition from the Costières de Nîmes. Fresh, vibrant, and finely structured.

I got into a fight that night. Actually, not a fight. A spirited argument over parking improperly in our condo's very limited visitor parking lot. I was drunk and aggravated. Who cares if it ended up in a real fight - one would end up in the hospital, the other in jail. I was so drunk, my opponent so cunt-ish, that really, I didn't care. The running theme of the night I suppose. So now that this dinner is all done and over with, maybe it's time to finally consider my own. Two more months to go. Hope everyone's having a great weekend!

DF

and spring, we're still waiting ...

NV Cave De Hoen Heimberger Brut Rosé | AC Crémant d'Alsace

It's been a cold year. We're all desperate for some sun and warmth here in Toronto. DESPERATE FOR SPRING!! 

I like this time of year. There's a cluster of trees outside my kitchen window, and every spring, it's wonderful to watch the leaves sprout and slowly bloom into a green canopy. I looked this morning and the branches are still bare. It's the end of April, and even for Canada, this is ridiculous. So we have to turn to other things for those springtime feelings. And one of them is rosé.

Cave de Hoen is a solid producer - it's one of the few crémants that are made with 100% pinot noir, but it can be a bit inconsistent from year to year. And without printing lot numbers, who knows what you're getting. I remember a bottle I had last year being wonderfully dry and steely, with lovely delicate berries. This particular bottle was the opposite. Candied, with the dosage sticking out like the juiced out tool (at the Goodlife I go to) who struts around after every set. At what point does jacked and ripped become thickset and breast-y? Yes, in wine and in life, we appreciate power and strength, but there's also something to be said about definition and shape. 

Big weekend coming up for me - I turn 27 in a few days. There'll probably be time after for reflection and all that, but for now, all I'm concerned with is what I'm going to cook, and what bottles to drink. After a few years of frugality (especially last year's), I'm ready to do it big, because for the first time in a motherfucking long time, I've got something to celebrate. 

Here's to spring!

DF

non-vintage Champagne and Lot numbers

NV J. Lassalle Brut Prèférence | Premier Cru | Chigny-Les-Roses

My mother celebrated her birthday a few weeks ago, and it was a weekend of wine and fabulous seafood. Oysters and uni, clams and shrimps, over the most satisfying hotpot. I haven't opened a Champagne in over a year - yes, criminal, but we had few things to be pleased with, and besides, I'm poor. So I've been holding onto this bottle for a few years now. Chris Kissack (the Winedoctor) wrote about giving non-vintage Champagnes 2-3 years of bottle age, and I'm putting that theory to the test.

When I bought this wine in late 2009, the catalogue listed it as Lot # 4271, indicating a disgorgement date of January 14, 2008. I remember drinking an earlier bottle of this, and being blown away by how complex and vibrant it was. About 3.5 years later, I was gagging to see if this particular lot shared any similar characteristics. The cork let go softly, the wine pouring with a shimmering gold hue. Fine mousse. Still feels tightly wound, structured - well extracted on the palate, mineral, and well-defined. You feel like it's almost there ... just almost there at the start of its maturity, but not quite. Amazing, to see these non-vintage wines show so much structure, so much youth still. The quality is very, very high.

So disgorgement date in Champagne is just as important as blend in determining its final character. That is truth. And the catalogue labelled it wrong. Because at the bottom of the bottle, there's a 4-digit number printed: 0609. And if I'm reading that correctly, it indicates a disgorgement date of June 2009. So quite a bit later than what I had thought. It's great that this producer is printing these dates, but there has to be a clearer way of presenting this information. Unless they don't really want you to know. Gasp. I still have a bottle of this (somewhere) ... I'll see you again in 5 years? 

DF

yet again, dry versus sweet

Top: 2010 Gustave Lorentz Réserve Riesling | AC Alsace

Bottom: 2009 Reichsrat Von Buhl Riesling Spätlese | QmP Forster Jesuitengarten | Pfalz

Routine is great. I like order in my life ... but then again, I like a bit of chaos too. And so you try to apply that same philosophy to the food you cook and eat. Yes, it's perfectly fine to drink the proper wine with certain dishes - dry, light white wines with your seafood, dark reds with your meats, whatever. But there should also be an element of mystery in food, of wonder and surprise. So when you're serving savoury foods - in this case, seafood - you surprise everyone with a glass of sweet wine. And suddenly the fog lifts, the sun shines through, and everyone around the table starts sighing in pleasure.

A contrast in styles.

When I was young(er) and still heavily involved in piano, I remember this guy I went up against once at a competition. He was about 3 years older than me, and I hated him the moment I met him. I hated the way he talked, I hated the way he played the piano, and I straight-up hated his face. We had completely different styles of playing. Having stronger hands, his whole thing was to pound the keyboard, banking on impressing the judges with waves of sound leaving little to subtlety or nuance, while I was the polar opposite, favouring a more delicate, structured approach - his sledgehammer to my yanagi-ba-bōchō (there's a new world/old world wine metaphor in there somewhere). We both entered a competition which featured the two of us performing the same piece, and I still grind my teeth when I think about it. Should not have stayed in the room when he was playing (2 spots ahead of me). It was a Chopin, and a big one - runs and pounding octaves, playing right into his style. On the spot, I decided to ramp up my own performance, so it would at least sound similar to his. Fatal error. While he didn't win, he ranked a full 4 places ahead of me. That fucking smirk on his face as we shook hands after ...

So you see, you shouldn't be afraid of contrast, of being true to what you are. There is no singular style of riesling - its beauty, like the beauty of all wine, lies in the variations on its theme. We were having a lot of seafood - fish, clams, mussels, sea cucumber. Differences, if subtle, in flavour and texture. So therefore although we wanted a wine that would drink well with everything on the table, it all had to contrast enough with the overall seafood theme for it to be interesting. The first wine, an Alsatian riesling, was fresh and vibrant, that lovely steely riesling minerality. The Pfalz, a spätlesen, with more substance on the palate, and balanced sweetness providing a great foil to the savouriness of the shellfish. Delicious all around.

It's going to sound all Disney and shit, but things would be so much better if everyone acted true to themselves. These wines aren't meant for everyone - there are still those (terribly, terribly ignorant) people who think sweet wines are all floozy and the antithesis of "serious" wine. But the point is to be brave enough to think outside what is supposedly the accepted wine to drink with a meal, and to infuse some excitement, some mystery into it all. Above all, don't be afraid of being different - to try the contrasting, rather than the complementing thing. And JS, you bowl-cutted twat - I'm up for a rematch, any day, all day.

DF

no Champagne this holidays, so we look elsewhere...

2007 Domaine De Clos De L'Epinay Tête De Cuvée Brut | AC Vouvray

2010 Naveran Dama Extra Brut | DO Cava

There is no such thing as criticism anymore. It used to be a respectable profession, the critic. So how come there's a distinct sense that not only are the proper critics becoming increasingly irrelevant, but that criticism is just another synonym for cheap insults and snark? There's been a bit of a ruffle in culinary circles regarding Pete Wells' piece on Guy Fieri's new restaurant in Times Square. Entertaining to read, and yes, I'm not defending Fieri's bad taste, but is this what criticism has become? 

Maybe it's a sign of how low journalistic standards have dropped. If Wells really thought so poorly of the place, a single line would have sufficed - My dear readers, don't go. And if, like the old days, he had built a reputation for himself as a trusted source of restaurant reviews, his readers would listen. Times have changed, for better or worse ... consumers are bombarded with so many sources of "reviews" now, from sites like Yelp to random Facebook/Twitter/Instagram posts. Any clown with a smartphone can spout off about their meals, and 99% of it is pure and utter rubbish. So are critics doing themselves any favours by writing critical pieces that are more noteworthy for their entertainment value than actually being useful? If Wells truly felt this restaurant was an embarrassment, would it not be more fitting his position as restaurant critic for the fucking New York Times to stop giving this place publicity (business is booming due to the curiosity factor now) and devote his column to something that would actually teach his readers something? I don't mean to say that's what critics are supposed to do, but dammit, that's what critics are supposed to do. They share new, unknown finds ... you learn from their knowledge and experience ... and they understand that what makes the food/wine meaningful are the stories about the people behind them. Snark and cheap sarcasm is fun and all, but beneath a professional critic. Leave that shit to the rest of us - we should all hold the field of criticism to a higher standard.

Champagne is a luxury to drink. I buy little and drink less - sadly. And it's even worse this year. At least in past years, I'd have the chance to pull the corks on a bottle or two during the holidays. So we look for substitutes, and though nothing (despite what they'd have you think) compares, these two helped to slightly dull my thirst. A sparkling wine from Vouvray and Cava - both vintage dated (!), to add some excitement. The Vouvray was a softer style, with that slight herbal character I always seem to find in chenin blanc. Rich and immediately toasty, lending to a slightly more impressive first few glasses, but over the entire evening, it becomes tiring to drink. Begins falling apart - the dosage just a bit too much sugar, just not integrated. And so yes, the true test of a wine's character is yet again time and patience (and oxygen). The Cava blew me away. Starting off subtle and understated, but building in depth and complexity as the night went on. The beginnings of a round autolytic character, with beautiful balance and elegance on the palate. Delicious.

We have to hold the supposed professionals to a higher standard than ever. It's easy to weed out the incoherent, ignorant ramblings of the social media louse. But even after separating the wheat from the chaff, how come what remains is still so ... lousy? We need proper wine and food critics more than ever, to offer balanced, insightful views, and teach us something new. A few names I trust? So many, but take a look at Peter Liem | Eric Asimov | Mike Steinberger | Talia Baiocchi 

DF

if you're looking for simple drinkability...

2009 Domaine Arnoux Père & Fils Les Pimentiers | AC Savigny-Lès-Beaune

2008 Villa Symposia l'Equilibre | AC Languedoc | Midi

L: 2009 Santa Carolina Reserva De Familia Carmenère | Rapel Valley | Chile
R: 2009 Terra Noble Gran Reserva Cabernet Sauvignon | Colchagua Valley | Chile

The holidays are a collection of dinners and commitments - some attended to gladly, and others, well, maybe not so much. The night never seems long enough when you're with people you actually like. So what happens when you're stuck with the other type? I reach for the bottle to keep me occupied, but really, when most people serve wine, it should be prefaced as "wine".

We're just looking for something simple and pure and that most useful of descriptors, drinkable. But why is it so damn hard to find? Maybe we're asking for too much - we want varietal character, vintage personality, balance, and structure in our wines, among other things. If we're just searching for drinkability though, we need to shut down that part of our brain. No, all four of these wines are simple, fruit-forward wines that don't necessarily offer a lot of excitement, but don't require much from the drinker either. A village Burgundy, one from the south of France, and a pair from Chile - all good on the dinner table, good for a buzz, good for the nights when the bottle is your best friend. 

*Side note: The two Chileans were both suffering from reduction upon the cork-draw. After a few hours of decanting, the Santa Carolina cleared up, showing jammy, if nondescript fruit. The Terra Noble though, stayed sulfur-heavy, that rubbery, muted aroma. Not pleasant, but by the third day, enough sweet fruit comes up that I get the appeal. Maybe a coincidence, but the first time I've come across two wines from the same region and vintage, suffering from the same winemaking fault. Both bottled under cork.

DF