Heart and soul

I walked a tightrope during our last day of Operations Management class last week, and was rewarded for it. That thin line between honesty and stupidity. A fool I remain. But at least a brave one, to the end. At the beginning of the term, we were given the option of submitting a 'Show and Tell'. Something, anything we came across, experienced, whatever, that was applicable as an operations case. And so I submitted something about wine, to the surprise of no one. I know what I'm about son. 

I talked about sherry - specifically, the complexities of the solera system, and the scale of the number of botas these bodegas manage. The night before, I get an email from the professors asking me to prepare a short presentation for the class. Right. I had to make a choice. And I decided to go in a direction opposite of where I was probably supposed to go. At a fork in the road, and I went left instead of right. But hey, always be true to yourself, right. I went up there, in front of all my classmates and professors, and proclaimed that for sherry bodegas, operational efficiency was not important, and would destroy its heart and soul. Bold statements. Maybe not the best thing to say before the final exam. No, definitely not the best thing to say. But I said it, the class voted The Cask of Fino as the best out of the 3 'Show and Tells', and I walked out with a bottle of Cava. A good final day of classes.

I'm reminded of why I love wine. In a word, honesty. Because to begin understanding and truly appreciating wine, we have to first find that honesty. In wine, and also in ourselves. A wine will never lie to you - all the marketing, all the nonsense critics come up with - it's all for naught, because what is in the glass cannot hide. But to be able to see through the smoke and mirrors requires honesty from ourselves too. To put aside egos, to know that there's far more that we don't know than what we do ... to always be curious, to always have a sense of excitement, of mystery. To still be able to be stunned speechless in wonder by a glass.

In front of an MBA class, talking about heart and soul is, well, pointless. But if I can get one person ... just one person to see what I'm trying to get at, to feel instead of analyze ... I will be very happy indeed.

Heart and soul baby. Heart and soul. 

DF

at a temple of sherry

Back to business. School's been tough, as usual; the academics, I can (more or less) deal with. The other stuff? An absolute waste of time. Why can't we just go about our business, put all the self-righteousness aside, and stop judging others? Evidently a difficult concept to grasp, even for (some) MBA's. We're a silly, boring, unimaginative group. I'm sad to say that Jose's opinion of us is very justified.

Who's Jose? I have to first back it up a bit. It's been a while since I wrote - travelling photos don't really count. We want to think that what we're writing has meaning, has depth, has soul. We're allowed to have our delusions of grandeur - thank you, dear reader, for indulging this wino for so long. What do I always say about wine? What do I always say? The great wines are the wines that speak not only to your tongue, lips, and head, but also to your heart ... your spirit. I've been thinking about this for a long time, because the owners here aren't too crazy about being written about, but I have to share it with you. More than the wines here, it's the soul of the place that left my head spinning and my heart racing.

La Venencia, a magical little sherry bar in Madrid. Named after the traditional wine thief used to draw a measure of sherry out of the bota. A friend of a friend took us here, and stepping inside was a step back in time. Old wood everywhere, dusty posters from what looked like the early 1900's, dark barrels along one wall, and the distinct feeling that a bar full of (Spanish) eyeballs were suddenly starting at this group of 4 Asians and 1 Venezuelan. Crowded and noisy and local. My kind of bar. We sort of half squeeze, half push our way into the middle, where there stood (I swear) a dead ringer for John Malkovich. Darker hair, moodier, but an absolutely uncanny resemblance. They apparently purchase sherry by the barrel here, filling up their own bottles to pour. There's a selection for each style - fino, manzanilla, palo cortado, amontillado, and oloroso. Who cares about producer. Who cares about vintage. The manzanilla and amontillado were simply stunning. They mark your order in chalk right on the wooden bar, where you stand, adding it up when it's time to pay. The tapas is good too - the cecina was excellent, as were the olives, but what was most surprising (and delicious to my Japanese colleagues) was the cured cod roe, above. Yeah, those huge orange strips. Cured in huge blocks (not unlike sopressata salami), it's from Andalusia, and per Jose, one of the owners, not even the Spanish really know about it, much less eat it. And I can see why. It's fishy like you wouldn't believe, and the sticky texture certainly doesn't help. Wow, does it have length.

This place is such a one-off. From the ambiance to the curmudgeons behind the bar (who will warm up to you if you're nice), this place is authenticity and honesty. The second night we were there, the bar was a bit quieter ... just a bit quieter. So we had a chance to talk with Jose. He's one of those characters from another time, when people seemed more sociable, more jovial, more relaxed, more human. Quotable, even in another language, he complained that speaking in English makes my throat itch. He explained the solera system (pictured above), he talked about cecina de vaca, he talked a bit about why sherry was an interesting wine, to a point (I don't believe in counting the age of wine ... it can have a teardrop of a wine of 15 years). But man, we went deep that night ... deep and real heavy.

We went all philosophical. Jose has this rule that you can't take pictures inside the bar. Everything else seems to be laid-back, free for all. So why no photos, why do phones need to be put away? The answer turned out to be simple, really. It's a matter of principle, of the deep belief that Jose and his comrades have - that the most important thing of La Venencia isn't the wines or the food, or even them for that matter. The only thing that matters and is worth protecting is something he likes to call the soul of the place. Allowing photos and other incivilities robs such a beautiful place of that indefinable quality.

Why is it important, this whole notion of soul and spirit and principle? Is it even a real thing? We met one of his regulars, Javier, who coincidentally is also an IESE graduate. He put it simply - look at this place. There is no business model in the world that can explain why it is success. It makes no sense. But now that you are here, you can see it for yourself. This place is alive, where people can take a sherry and talk with friends, and enjoy life. Jose has a unique perspective on his bar, business-wise. He told us, I'm no worried about customers. We do fine. That's why I don't want people go to computer, type type type, and all other people come. Poor business sense? Narrow-minded and stuck in the past?  Spanish? Perhaps. But we need more people like Jose ... dreamers, hedonists, artists, and idealists. We need them to protect these noble ideals, to preserve imagination, courage, and authenticity in wine.

You MBA's? No, I won't explain to you. You don't understand.

DF

keeping things messy

Why do some producers still bottle under wax? Is it because of tradition? Or the image of tradition? There's certain pleasure in breaking a wax seal, the ritual. But it just gets so messy. So is being messy part of the appeal?

We like our lives to be clean. To both be clean, and to conduct ourselves 'cleanly'. But seldom does it ever go that way. We want to end things cleanly, want to begin the next stage of our lives cleanly, want to get through this next month cleanly ... but really, we're lying to ourselves. We have to take things as they come, and deal with them as best as we can, trying to be moral, responsible people. So let's keep things messy, because a clean life is a boring one. An exciting few days so far - two events already this week for #TeamLCF, with one more tonight at the #ICTorontoCentre's Azure Restaurant for their Summerlicious menu. Been taking my buddies with me - #TheRMBTeam - because who are you without your nearest and dearest?

DF

what with dinner

It's been a shitstorm these past few weeks. But no complaints. Never any complaints. 

I'm headed to New York later this week, to interview with some schools. Very excited for it - as someone told me, it's not about omfg, what are they gonna ask me? but rather, I'm so fking excited to show them what I'm about! Right on. Ready to get at it.

Yesterday, I ran outdoors in the ravine across my house for the first time this year. Spring is really here! Huffed and puffed, but made the run in decent shape. Wore (running) tights for the first time too - legit. It's been a busy weekend. Went with the boys to Niagara on Friday, staying overnight to party and participate in all kinds of debauchery. Not really. We're all good Chinese boys ... what kind of trouble could we possibly get into?! Stopped by Fielding Estate Winery on Saturday morning, on our way back to Toronto. Quite an extensive tasting, which I'll write about later, in detail. Lots of good stuff tasted.

Serving what's supposed to be the right food/wine pairing seems to be what a lot of people are obsessing about these days. It's that whole look how tasteful I am, pats self on back attitude that's so pervasive now - the people who refer to cabernet sauvignon as 'cab' and throw the term 'foodie' around freely. Not the people I want to be spending time with. I'm a throwback, but I can't be the only one who feels that appreciation of cuisine and wine culture involves respecting it.

A Chinese meal is full of surprises - a tableful of dishes that can have dozens of different flavours and textures, ping-ponging between sweet to savoury to spicy. So to decide to fit each dish with his or her own wine is absolute folly. No, what we're going for is versatility, and most importantly when we have guests over, variety. Beer, some kind of simple lager or pilsner, remains the beverage that you can always rely on to go well with everything. The Japanese are still learning how to cook - raw fish isn't exactly cooking - but they've got the right idea about Sapporo/Asahi/Suntory/Kirin/Orion. When looked at critically, all those beers are shit. But on the table, with great food, they serve their purpose beautifully. Because they understand that either of the one - the food or the beer - one always has to serve the other. They cannot be of equal prominence, because you don't want a fucking battle happening on the table. You want a hot, passionate, pleasurable, tangled, mind-blowing union. Shit, we still talking about dinner? You want an orgy on the table, between what you're eating and drinking. Keep the domination/bondage kink out of it. 

So the question is, which (or who) goes on top? The food, or the drink? As much as I'm a wine/cocktail/alcohol guy - it's always about the food. When people rhapsodize about cars, they say You can't drive your house, but you can live in your car. Well, fuck that logic. Because show me a person that can survive off booze. 

One top of the other. As was meant to be. As we all were meant to be.

DF

reduction, sponti, and all sorts of fun

2005 Bollig-Lehnert Riesling Auslese | QmP Piesporter Goldtropfchen | Mosel

So I drink a fair amount of riesling, and like to think that I have a good idea of what the various styles are, what the various villages are generally like. And then I start reading a few articles about it from actual authorities on the subject, and I realize how ignorant I am, how much I have yet to learn.

The Mosel and Rheingau are the two regions I've had the most opportunities to taste mature vintages from, going back to the early '80's. I've never been really shy about sharing how I feel about these wines - riesling certainly being one to induce a bit of hyperventilating. These wines are so, so special, and as I've said again, and again, so much more than what their reputation suggests. I've had three bottles from this producer in the last few months, and I've come to get a sense of their style. The first two, a spätlese from Piesporter Goldtropfchen, and a kabinett from Trittenheimer Apotheke, showed as incredibly reduced. Throwing off aromas that I immediately associated with sulfur and reduction - until I learned that there's more to it. Much more.

First, an article by Lars Carlberg called Unlocking the Kabinett, and a blog post by Brooklynguy called  Weird Things About Wine #61 - Mosel and the Sulfur Stench (read the comments). Certain off aromas in riesling - mostly young riesling - comes from a variety of things. Reduction and aromas of sulfur may not be related. And there's another wrinkle, from wines fermented using native yeasts, referred to as sponti. Peter Liem, the esteemed wine writer, says that tasted against one other, each type of aroma is fairly distinct from one another. We need to clearly differentiate between the three, because the causes of each are distinct, and therefore the way we need to treat the wines will differ.

Right, so because none of us are chemists and chemistry is boring, let's dumb it down and describe each as it is. Reduction can occur from sulfur use, or be an effect of a reductive winemaking process. The generalized aroma for reduction is rotten eggs. Actual aromas of sulfur come from the addition of large amounts of sulfur during winemaking, and before bottling, as is the standard practice of many German riesling producers who create wines for long aging. The generalized aroma for sulfur is burnt matches. And sponti is the result of off aromas associated with native yeast fermentation, which of course is more exciting but less reliable than selected yeasts. This is where it gets tricky - Peter says that some aromas of sponti are very similar to sulfur, so much so that even wine professionals mistake the two. He says, Unfortunately, the vast majority of people, including most wine professionals, mistake this odor for sulfur, but if you take the time to compare the two, it is easily distinguished. And this is why I need to make friends like Peter.

Calling them flaws isn't truthful, because these off aromas are usually found only in young wines, which simply need bottle age to come around. Really enlightening, and now I have a hankering for riesling. So going back to what I smelled for my first 2 bottles of Bollig-Lehnert. They both smelled gassy, slightly oily, and rubbery. And I wrote them as suffering from reduction problems, caused by sulfur. I'm fairly convinced both were reduced - just maybe not so sure anymore that it was because of the sulfur. But this bottle, the Piesporter Goldtropfchen Auslese ... this one was just fine. Dense and compact, but expressive. Floral and citrusy, that undercurrent of green apple and intense minerality running through. Ripe but linear, beautiful extract and balance on the palate. A dream come true.

Thanks for the lesson, gentlemen.

DF

a new start

We do what we can, with what we have - there is never a perfect moment to do something. One just does.

We've been in Canada for more than 20 years, but we're still immigrants. That bit never really goes away. There is no plan, no model to follow - we try our best to make a good, decent living, and to create a better life here than the one my grandparents had. It's the whole point, isn't it ... that all this hard work, this sacrifice should lead to something better for the next generation? As immigrants, our closest friends share the same background. Same hometown, around the same ages. We spend all major holidays together, and this Chinese New Year, as usual with these big dinners, there was at least 5 different conversations going on at once, each one louder than the next. But amidst all the shouting and general buffoonery, one comment stood out. All of us around the table have strong opinions, but this one stood above the rest.

Young people today can't take hardship and aren't willing to work hard.

I didn't take it personal, and I still don't. But I absolutely refuse to believe this whole nonsense that people are getting worse, that each successive generation has declined, that we're not living up to the ideals and accomplishments of our forebears. 

It's so banal, isn't it ... modern wines don't hold a candle to wines from 50 years ago, we've lost the true taste of wine, the notion of terroir is dead. Bullshit. Wines aren't not getting worse, they're getting better - people aren't getting worse, we're just different. Society is different, circumstances are different - we're under different pressures, things our parents didn't even have to consider 20 or 30 years ago. I get it, this natural human impulse to express how your experiences speak to your character, that you've found success and created a better life for your kids - even if to do so means putting down those very brats. 

Everyone's entitled to their own opinions, of course. But it's the weak intellect that has the inability to allow for alternative perspectives. And we all need perspective, in wine, and life.

DF

with age and proper care

Matt Kramer writes a great blog called Drinking Out Loud, and in his latest piece, he asks Is It Worth It to Age Wines Anymore? A great question, and more complicated than simply complaining that more and more producers are turning to that overtly fruity, soft, big, style of wine that doesn't develop in the bottle and won't live past 2 years. It's an issue that raises more questions than answers really, and here are mine.

Firstly, a distinction has to be made between wines that will develop nuance and character with bottle age, and wines that absolutely demand aging. We need to look at what kind of wines we want to be aging, and Matt makes a good point of this in his article. We need to broaden our minds to truly understand what it is about a wine that makes it ageworthy - after all, longevity isn't exclusive to cabernets and merlots. Decades ago, much of the so-called classical fine wines of Europe - Bordeaux, Burgundy, Vintage Port - were undrinkable in their youth. Harsh, in tannin and acidity, needing years and years to soften and round out. A far cry from the voluptuous texture and smoothness that's now considered the hallmark of fine wines. So why do we age now? Simply put, for interest. Benchmark wines don't need aging so much for drinkability now as for the purposes of developing complexity. When that primary fruit sheds away, we're looking for secondary aromas and flavours to develop, as all the elements of the wine integrate and break down. The fruit, the alcohol, the acidity, the tannin - all those things that make up the wine. Whether that happens in 2 or 5, 10 or 15 years is anybody's guess. But that's what we're looking for when we refer to maturity - that moment in a wine's life when it becomes the truest expression of what it is.

Winos are obsessive fanatics, always chasing that unicorn of drinking a wine at its peak. But how does one determine when a wine 'peaks'? Unless we have cases and cases of a single wine, affording the chance to taste a bottle every 3 months ... how else will we know beyond a doubt that a wine has developed into the best it ever will be? Matt's article implies that the drinking window - or rather, a wine's race to maturity - has shortened due to a variety of factors including (but not limited to) climate change, viticulture practices, and winemaking techniques. This evolution of developments has led to a better understanding of how exactly to achieve health and ripeness in the vineyard, which translates to wines which are more attractive and accessible in their youth. Whether this means that wines won't live as long as their forebears has yet to be seen; the great thing about wine is that everything is learned by drinking.

So, do we go so far as to absolutely say that today's wines are better, or that the wine's of the past remain the true standard bearers of what wine should be? Can we not take a more nuanced view? Maybe it's not so much a question of which era of wine is better, but rather acknowledging the simple fact that, just as people change from generation to generation, so do wines. So with that understanding, the concept (and purpose) of aging wine has also changed. Where perhaps it was once an absolute necessity to age wine because it would otherwise be undrinkable, such bottles are now few and far between. And maybe because wines are now more approachable, it's logically sound to assume that they will mature quicker as well. Ah, so we come to the final question, the question I'm most interested in understanding: are the 'peaks' of today's wines as high as the 'peaks' of their ancestors from decades past?  

This debate, sadly, is inconsequential for the average consumer who don't put much wine away, and have no desire to subject themselves to this slow torture of is it worth putting this bottle away and will it ever live up to expectations. For us poor, poor winos, it's just not feasible or possible to have a cellar full of old treasures. I try ... and I'll keep trying to build the cellar of my dreams. But dusty 30-something year old bottles have always been a novelty. A more realistic and practical approach should be applied to building and maintaining a cellar. Maybe now, with this generation's style of wine ... it's become possible to build decent cellar of interests and oddities and more importantly, have a shot at actually being able to drink our beloved bottles at maturity.

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

reading the back label

Depending on initial impressons, casual drinkers may forever associate certain varietals with a specific style of winemaking. Take riesling. It can be confusing - is it sweet, is it dry, is it something in between? So look at this fabulous label, from a fabulous Australian riesling out of the Eden Valley. A clear indication of exactly where it lies on the dry/sweet meter, and on top of it, detailed viticulture information. Is this the future of wine labels? Are people interested in knowing the rainfall during harvest, or the soil type the grapes were grown on? Maybe, maybe not. But like dressing up for a party, more information is always better than none at all.

DF

Privatizing the LCBO

Is this it? Are we finally going to get serious about doing this?

Ontario PC Leader Tim Hudak is the latest to publicly call for privatization as part of his platform. This debate has been brought up before, and has quickly died everytime. On one side, the LCBO brings in billions of revenue to the government - they operate hundreds of outlets servicing the most obscure towns in the province, and they are the world's largest buyers of wine. On the other hand, prices that Ontarians are charged clearly are not competitive, and this whole paternalistic notion that we, as adults, need to have our alcohol consumption regulated is shocking in a free society.

So what are the reasons being given to privatize some or all of the LCBO? Well, choice for one. Ontarians should not be restricted to LCBO outlets to buy alcohol, and corner shops and private stores should be able to carry it. Privatizing alcohol retail will create jobs and small businesses. And most importantly, prices for booze will be more competitive. I should not have to pay over $30 for a bottle of Lapierre Morgon when they pay $18 in New York.

The reasons to keep the monopoly in place? Lost government revenue, of course. Decrease in the variety of products available. And the social cost involved, because of course, if the government stops controlling alcohol, we're all going to turn into raving alcoholics smashing shit up and fornicating in public. First of all, we won't lose variety - we'll gain it. We'll have importers and shops who specialize in specific wines or beers or spirits, instead of variety stores. We want boutiques, not fucking Wal-Marts. LCBO is the world's largest buyer of wine by volume, but look at what they're buying. Sub-$10 wine doesn't count as giving people 'choice' - no, it's finding the cheapest wine available because there will always be a market for it. And there is no evidence that the absence of government controlled retail of alcohol leads to increased alcohol-related offences. The LCBO's supposed mandate to promote local wines (Canada's two main wine regions being Ontario and British Columbia) is a joke. It's a numbers game. The LCBO (and Vintages) asks for volume, and many of these producers simply don't produce enough wine; the wine that they do produce, they can't afford to sell through the LCBO.

I definitely think this issue needs to be seriously debated, and a conclusive solution reached. The interests of local wine producers aren't being answered; and it's becoming harder and harder to convince everyone that the public interest is being met. Take a look here: My Wine Shop, and show your support for consumer choice.

DF

knowing what she likes

2009 Bollig-Lehnert Riesling Kabinett | QmP Trittenheimer Apotheke | Mosel

I don't really treat my pieces here as reviews, so in that sense, the wines I write about aren't so much recommendations as they are a collection of what I find interesting and exciting. If we have common tastes, great; if not, no big deal. Just as long as we have a common understanding of what a truly great wine is - authenticity, character, balance, drinkability, and ageability.

Knowing the wines your friends and loved ones enjoy - that's the whole point isn't it. You want to show them new things, but wine isn't about imposing yourself on others. If there isn't a spirit of generosity and pleasure to it all, wine loses a lot of its meaning. And so I've studied my friends, and I think I've come to a good understanding of what their palate preferences are. I've got friends that have sweet tooths and those who are strictly savoury - friends who devour meat, and others who favour seafood. And I'm most thankful for the friends I don't have - the picky eaters, the close-minded, the vegetarian.

Knowing these preferences gives you more confidence to share new wines. So I'm trying to impress and charm someone (a girl, duh) with a decided sweet tooth. But in the midst of all the compotes and tarts, she gets savoury foods too. So we start with something she absolutely gets - kabinett wines from the Mosel, with that touch of sweetness on the palate. But as we're drinking, I get her to notice other things as well. The acidity, the minerality, the extract ... giving her a more complete perspective of the wine, outside of it's a sweet wine. So we'll start moving onto drier wines, but those that retain a certain brightness of fruit and freshness. My end-game is to have her appreciate the gloriously earthy, country wines of Europe, but as you see, it's all a process. One step at a time - after all, we can't go straight into Bandol, old Rioja, and Barolo.

That's sort of the intellectual side of it, the wine consultant speaking. From a straight wino point of view - instinctively knowing what a person likes to eat and drink is one of the most intimate, nurturing things one person can do for another. It's why eating in your mother's kitchen tops any fine dining experience - mother knows exactly what you want to eat, and how you like to eat it. And so for my friends at least, I'll keep trying until I get it right. Finding that one wine that makes them close their eyes and say yes, this is the one.

DF

a taste of something new

And this is why the industry is in desperate need of good sommeliers. Despite the fact that we'd like to think we know what we're doing, we still need guidance from true wine professionals to introduce and teach us new things. New regions, new varieties, new producers. And this particular bottle is by far the greatest wine experience I've had all year. A Croatian plavac, served by the glass at The Spoke Club in Toronto, brought in by sommelier Ludo.

I've heard great things about Croatia. It's sort of a hidden part of Europe, a little gem that tourists haven't yet picked up on. It's wine history dates 2500 years ago to the Ancient Greek settlers, who arrived on the Croatian coast in the 5th century BC, with wine production on the southern Dalmatian islands of Vis, Hvar and Korčula. Empires came and went, and in the 1400's, the Ottoman Turks governed under Islamic law, which forbade alcohol. However, they allowed Christians to maintain Catholic traditions, and this was to have saved wine production, in the form of Sacremental wine. The Habsburg Empire came into power in the 18th century, and wine culture really developed during this time - it lasted until the early 1900's, with the onset of phylloxera, and then Communism under Yugoslavia, which decimated fine wine production by swallowing vineyards into large cooperatives. The early 1990's saw the beginning of a revival of traditional Croatian wines, after the Croatian War of Independance.

Plavac Mali is the most widely planted grape along the Dalmatian coast of Croatia. In Croatian, mali means small and plavac means what is blue. It's the descendant of zinfandel - a cross between Crljenak Kastelanski (an ancestral Zinfandel) and Dobričić. The best quality is achieved on the southern slopes of Hvar Island, which is where this wine is from. This particular bottle, the 2010 Tomić Plavac Mali from Hvar, is stunning. So unique and utterly original. A bright crimson hue, showing lots of spicy, floral notes, with delicate red berries. This follows on the palate, showing great balance and texture. Finishes very dry, finely structured, with a soft kiss of cranberries and red currants.

We need good sommeliers. How else do we get to learn about, and experience wines like this? As winos, we always speak to the importance of keeping an open mind, and trying new things, but sometimes that's the hardest thing. Vintages and the LCBO certainly don't mind it if people drink only French/Italian/Californian/Australian. So the burden falls upon agencies, restaurants, sommeliers, and yes, wine consultants, to introduce people to truly unique wines from previously unheard of parts of the world. It's only when we step outside what we're familiar/comfortable/accepting of that we come to a  closer understanding of what wine is. Now - where do I find a bottle?

DF

ready to go at it again

All photos courtesy of ROKChoi Photography

It's been a long week. A long year, in fact. A tough few months all around, but amidst all the bitterness and suffering, a glimmer of sweetness.

I've been missing from here, was busy all of last week sending in my 3rd application. I knew this whole process was going to take a lot out of me, but I didn't expect this much. Writing the essays and reflecting on what I bring to an MBA vis–à–vis existing skill-sets and experience ... goddammit, it's drawing out all these insecurities. You think you're a clever, unique person, but really, you're not. You're just like all the other schmucks submitting, innit. It's a bit difficult to accept, but there it is. This last application in particular, has actually taught me a lot. You think you're creative, you think you're brilliant and have all these profound ideas ... much more work needed, more focus, more thought.

And this process has really made me thankful for my true friends. I'm so lucky to have people in my life I trust, who always have my back, who always speak the bright, blessed truth. So the overriding question of this whole thing is Who am I? And shit, that's one of the most difficult questions I've ever had to answer. So let's take it one step at a time, one topic at a time. And naturally, I start with wine.

I suppose above all, I love wine for its honesty. For the moments of clarity it gives, when you taste something so deeply meaningful and profound that the clouds part, the sun shines through, and you suddenly understand the point of it all. Fleeting, and like a good dream, forgotten just as quickly ... but we know those moments exist, and we try to cherish them when they come. I was asked if the wines you like the most are a reflection of your personality. I believe so, strongly. I can only speak for myself - if you take a running list of the wines that mean the most to me ... well, that's DF right there. Honest, authentic wines, completely odious and hard to love right away. But over time, as they mature and you really come to understand them, they will be the most enlightening wine experiences you will ever have. Yes I'm introverted, yes I don't generally get along (or even like) most people, but come on, I'm old enough to not waste my time hanging out with people I don't particularly care for. And you can call me snobbish or standoff-ish, or even asshole-ish for it.

So what's next? I haven't actually been drinking much wine recently. Not in the mood, kind of trying to budget more carefully - lots of reasons why things have been a bit dry at home. One more school to work on, then it's a few months of sweating it out for a decision to come down. Fun. But at least the holidays are coming up. Hope everyone has a great week! No rest for the hard-working.

DF

white wines on the table

2010 Domaine Long-Depaquit Les Vaillons | AC Chablis 1er Cru

As winos, we go through love affairs with different wines - intense periods where we're so focused on a certain wine or style as to almost be obsessive. Clearly, winos don't place a premium on taking it easy.  I've had a Bordeaux phase, a Mosel phase, a Chinon phase, a Barolo phase ... there isn't much of a plan anymore, beyond what am I in the mood for? There's still a thrill though, of really focusing on a specific wine, sort of on an accelerated learning curve. Be intense or don't even bother - that's what I've always believed in, in wine and life.

The past 12 months have been rough. Lots going on, from GMAT to the still ongoing business school application process, so wine really has taken a bit of a backseat. Add on the need to really start budgeting more aggressively, and well, the boozing has suffered. I've been drinking more white wine though. Riesling and chardonnay really, if we're generalizing. I think it's this subconscious craving for focus and precision, which I find more consistently in the white wines that I drink. All high acid, low alcohol, linear wines that go beautifully with food. No posturing, no chest-puffing ... I think my palate has readjusted to the point that I'm turned off more than ever by overdone, macerated reds.

This bottle, from Les Vaillons, a Chablis Premier Cru, is sublime. It's still a baby, but already showing beautiful chardonnay character, and that textbook Chablis minerality and focus. Seductive yet with a backbone of steel. So now that the weather is cooling, what wines are you in to? What phase (if any) are you in now? 

DF

choosing wine that mirrors its drinkers

1989 Cruz Vintage Port | Douro

So the elections are finally over for America and the rest of the world should be very grateful that the President has been re-elected. In my opinion, the job of POTUS is at least 75% foreign policy. The government is more than capable of handling domestic issues on its own - what the President needs to focus on is how to maintain and spread American influence internationally. And with all sorts of conflict happening, you just can't trust a corporate shark who can't point out Syria on a map to capably devise and carry out foreign policy. Just can't. So thanks America, you've allowed us all to breathe a sigh of relief until 2016. 

Monday night was my old man's birthday, and since my mother's in Shanghai at the moment and I'm smack in the middle of the worst shitstorm of my life ... a more subdued celebration seemed more appropriate. So we just cooked a simple dinner, and I pulled my last bottle of this 1989 Cruz. Like the other bottles I've had, it looks remarkably youthful, but is anything but a refined example of how grand of a wine Vintage Port can be. Coarse and thin, with the alcohol overwhelming the wine. Some sweet, dried berries on the nose, but you do have to search a little. A drinkable wine, at maturity ... it'll hold on for many more years, but what's the point?

I like to think that when you pull a special bottle to celebrate a person's special occasion, the wine doesn't just have to be something that they like - wouldn't it be interesting if the wine actually mirrored that person? We talk and write about wine in human terms, so wouldn't it be logical if we tried to choose wine by corresponding personality traits. Pleasant, honest, straightforward; lean, odious, understated - those are all things we can apply to both wine and people. Beyond choosing wine for flavour profile, let's see if we can dig deeper, and choose wine by its character. I already know what wine I'd like served in my honour. Something linear and acidic, subtle yet focused; elegant on the palate with a firm, long finish. That is, unless I'm in the mood for gin .....

DF

I want some dirty

Hope everyone had a good weekend! So Daylight Savings Time ended for us here in Canada, and I was looking forward to it because well, it was going to let me sleep in a bit more on Sunday morning, after a long day (and night) out. But alas ... it was not to be. My neighbour decided that Sunday morning, 10 am, was the perfect time to start blasting 'Pagliacci'. Now, I live in a townhouse, and we have thin walls, made all the worse when his room is adjacent to my bedroom. And I love Pagliacci. But being roused awake after a night of drinking by ...

La gente paga, e rider vuole qua.

E se Arlecchin t'invola Colombina,

ridi, Pagliaccio, e ognun applaudirà!

 ... is not my idea of a good way to slowly arise from a deep slumber. Right. So he won't mind if I get my bluegrass on and start wailing to Man of Constant Sorrow.

I haven't been drinking much wine lately. Something about budgeting more carefully. So I guess I'm paying a bit more attention to the things I have been buying. And so the wine I want to drink now is moving away from I just want a pleasant bottle to drink with dinner to this bottle better blow my mind. That's not asking too much now, is it? At the very least, wines to make you think a bit, and teach a little something. And it's become quite obvious that while many, many new world wines are pleasant and drinkable enough, only occasionally do they satisfy on an intellectual level. Everyone speaks marketing cliches about terroir and bottling the vineyard, but so few actually understand what an actual terroir-driven wine is. There's an endless argument about the role of fruit in all this, but it's clear that while fruit expression is a big part of a wine, truly terroir-driven wines encompass a whole lot more.

North Americans like to be too clean. Though cleanliness is a virtue, it can often take a sharp left into sterility and lifelessness. Wine has to be a bit dirty to be interesting. It's the winemaker's perogrative to scream and fuss about brett and VA, but middle-of-the-road fruit and nondescript varietal character is no better than obvious flaws in the wine. And really, it's the flaws that make it all the more interesting. I don't believe in dogma, in wine or anything really, but many of these wines seriously veer into an almost neurotic approach to technical proficiency. I think these wines, as clean as they may be, lack all nuance and charm. What then, is the point, if winemaking is no more than an exercise in chemistry? Life is depressing enough as it is ... I'd like the things we eat and drink to be heart-thumpingly romantic because after all, we're all a bit soft and cuddly inside.

Wine crystals are potassium bitartrate crystals that most commonly forms sedimentation in white wines. Wines which have not gone through extensive fining or cold stabilization retain this important tartaric acid, and white wines that exhibit these sediments are often good examples of non-interventionist winemaking. This particular wine is a Mosel riesling, from Bernkasteler Badstube vineyard. And it's everything I want in a true terroir-driven wine. Racy and pure, with fabulously ripe fruit, but the most amazing underlying complexity and structure. This shouldn't be a debate about new world/old world sensibilities, or to insinuate that old world wines are the only true wines of the world, but to, as they say, truly bottle the vineyard, I think winemakers need to be a bit less finicky about getting a bit dirty.

DF

end of the line

I love tasting wine.  It's all I ever wanted to do - a good stem and notes in hand, glistening bottles ready to be poured.  There's something magical about the whole process, this intense concentration when all you want to do is understand what's in the glass, calling on all your knowledge and experience.  And of adventure too, when you come across something completely unexpected and wonderful.

I was never taught how to taste.  So you just figure out what works, what doesn't.  It's just about working at it methodically - taking notes, reading/learning how professionals write, and developing a routine.  And of course, being patient, because it takes a long time (and many, many bottles) before you begin understanding why a wine tastes the way it does.  I've been to enough tastings to understand how fallible the palate is, how you can easily be overwhelmed after tasting dozens of wines.  It's always fun to sledgehammer through 70, 80, 90 wines in one go, but we have to be honest with ourselves, and admit that after the first 15-20 or so, our palate sensitivity and accuracy starts taking a steep dive.

It's been so, so long since I've had the opportunity to just taste.  Was in Niagara in the spring, and it was great to look at the new vintage - need to go down sometime soon to check out how the 2012's are showing, and this time, with the right tasting companion.  Want to share in all this with my friends, but for the most part, have to temper my enthusiasm, because not everyone gives a shit about the swirl, nose, and spit.  Another weekend at home, working on finishing my Berkeley Haas application.  Still waiting for that breakthrough, that moment of inspiration ...

DF

Because there will always be more wine...

I buy a fair amount of wine on my (very) limited budget.  Actually, it's pretty much the only thing I spend my disposable income on, along with shellfish, steak, and the odd night out.  So basically just food and booze.  Priorities right?  Over the years I've been buying, I've only bought one single case of wine - this 2010 Lapierre Morgon - that I bought the day before taking my GMAT.  Premature celebration, maybe, but also some extra motivation to kill the exam.  Mission accomplished.

I'm slowly coming to the realization that I hoard wine.  My cellar is small, about 550-600 bottles, and it's all in small orders - 2 bottles of this Bordeaux, 3 bottles of this Mosel, a single bottle of this Barolo.  So with 12 bottles of one wine, I almost don't know what to do with myself.  Do I just start drinking?  Buying in limited numbers is encouraging this hoarding behaviour - if I only have 2 or 3 bottles of something, I can't really afford to just drink one.  No, being my typically serious, humourless self, I have to let the wine mature, or at least come around a bit, before I even think of opening it.  And then when is the perfect occasion to do so?  Dinner with friends?  Holidays?  Birthdays?  No, somehow no occasion ever seems appropriate enough for that bottle I've squirrelled away since 2nd year university.

They say the first step to recovery is recognizing that you have a problem.  So what is it when I recognize the problem yet still choose to do nothing about it?  I have every intention of drinking every single bottle in my cellar before death takes me.  No guarantees that tomorrow I'll still be able to put on the pants I've taken off tonight, but for now, I'm planning on uncorking everything.  Every bottle has its time and place - I just suppose the exact details are a mystery.  Choosing a wine isn't supposed to be an exercise in logic or reason.  No, fuck scientific food and wine pairings that rob this beautiful elixir of all romance and charm.  Choosing a wine to drink is about feeling and emotion, and understanding that wine is as much about satisfying an intellectual curiosity as it is about delivering unabashed, all-encompassing pleasure.

Anyways, what was my point . . . right, so I bought a full case of this wine, and pulled a bottle out, before placing the other 11 bottles away.  But it's been sitting in my closet since June, sort of waiting for its time.  I opened it last night, for our Mid-Autumn Festival dinner.  Wine doesn't mean much unless you uncork the bottle and share with loved ones - and besides, the longer you hold onto something, the more unreasonable your expectations become.  There will always be more wine.  Unless the earth comes to a fiery, cataclysmic end, there will always be another spring, another harvest, another vintage.  So we need to express the finest lesson that wine teaches us: the spirit of honesty, integrity, and generosity.

DF

the taste of a past lover

2008 Château Cesseras Rouge | AC Minervois La Livinière | Midi

My ears are still slightly ringing. In the immortal words of Roger Murtaugh: I'm getting too old for this shit. But what am I saying - it's not about me. My friend was celebrating her birthday at the Drake Hotel, and I was happy to sacrifice my hearing for a night of clubbing, because she had a great time, and that's all the matters.

Right. Old lovers. Not a lot of fun to revisit, because really, no one really ever stays friends. But with time, memory becomes selective, and as a matter of principle (to stay care-free), I choose to only remember happy times. What am I talking about? As if I have a well of experiences to draw upon . . . if it's not apparent yet, with nearly 5 years of LCF in the books, I don't. So I'll stick to wine, because unlike women, there's meaning beyond all the madness behind wine.

Cesseras means a lot to this wino. As a young fella a few years ago, Cesseras was my introduction to the wines of South France. Those big, rich, alcoholic bombs that seduce you and leave you dizzy and completely fucked up the next day. The 2002/2003 and the 2006. Excuse the writing - I did say I was a young wino at the time. These wines made such an impact on me, and above all, taught me that texture in wine was possibly one of the greatest determinants to enjoyment and pleasure. That silky thickness, running down the throat. This 2008, showing all that heat, with a certain savouriness. Rich, sweet fruit, somewhat simple, but drink it for what it is - a simple, summertime pleasure in a glass.

Past experiences and relationships shape who we are today. That's a truth of life. So abandon this silly notion that you need to save great wines to drink later on, when you have a better idea of what you're doing. No matter what stage of winedom you're at - as long as you concentrate and focus and be fucking true to yourself - it's never a waste to experience a grand wine. If anything, your knowledge and appreciation for the good drink will increase exponentially. And some people wonder why when I do my wine dinners, I only invite certain friends? It's about an understanding that we all have, that we're being serious about food and drink, and it's not just about having a good time. Besides, wine is fucking expensive. And I'm cheap. Sorry, but this thing about any random (friend or otherwise) getting a drink out of me? Not happening.

DF

Bordeaux 2011 En Primeur full price list released

Vintages released its final price list for its 2011 Bordeaux Futures offer. Not many surprises . . . First Growths still hideously priced, and likewise for the Top Pomerols and St-Émilions. Anyone just so tired of these campaigns anymore?! I think I'm having some serious Bordeaux fatigue. See, that's why when you start any hobby really, you need a mentor who's willing to share wisdom, and start you off right. Otherwise you end up spending lots and lots of money on wines that you don't really want in your cellar 20 years later.

I didn't have a mentor. Not a real one anyways. My neighbour is an old wine guy, the old Bordeaux/Champagne/Burgundy kind of drinker. But he's a tightwad. You can only talk so much about wine . . . what good is it to someone who wants to learn about wine if you don't actually open a bottle to drink? As in most things, talk is so cheap.

So I taught myself by reading everything and anything I could find about wine, and really tasting. And yes, I read many, many books on how to taste wine. I fell in that trap most people do - that when you begin building a cellar, you start with red Bordeaux. I enjoy the wines, I really do . . . but I should have tasted around more first, before committing SO MUCH to claret. I'd say at the moment, about 60% of my cellar is in Bordeaux (red, white, and sweet), 20% Ontario, with the remainder split between Chablis, Champagne, Mosel, Rioja, and Barolo. And of course, the odd one-off bottle.

If given the gift of hindsight (and about $30,000) to redo my cellar, I'd focus on Barolo, Champagne, and both red and white Burgundy. Then, to a lesser degree, Mosel, Bordeaux (equal parts red and white), and Ontario. I'd also really like some Tokay, northern Rhône, and Bandol. But it's not too late . . . come on, I'm only about 7 years into seriously buying wine.

So what's stopping me from buying the wines I actually want? The number 10. I have a twitch, this almost OCD thing about wine that once I start with a certain producer, I HAVE to have 10 vintages of it on the shelf. Certain wines are worth it . . . 2, 3 times over. But other ones? It becomes a problem. At the moment, I've got 2 Bordeaux producers I'm working on - La Lagune, a 3rd Growth from the Haut-Médoc, and L'Arrosée, a Grand Cru Classé from St-Émilion. My first taste of both these wines were courtesy of a very, very generous family friend with a very deep Bordeaux collection. 2011 will be my 8th vintage of both, so I'm getting there. All I want is to see 10 years on the shelf, and then I'm out . . . or I might run out of money once I start school, whatever comes first.

I'm not suggesting that you need to be opening wines for anyone who asks, but really, if you have a chance to mentor a young person in wine, do it. You're going to make a difference in a young wino's life, and trust me, once that wino grows up, you'll get to drink all the wines you helped them put together. That's what I call a win-win.

DF