2005 Navajas Reserva, DOCa Rioja
DF
Let's have a drink.
The Wines of Burgundy tasting in Toronto this past Tuesday, hosted at the Art Gallery of Ontario, was fantastic. What was more fantastic than the actual tasting, however, was the epicness that ensued afterwards. Ah yes, the string of events over the three and a half hours or so it took us to take the subway back up north from downtown will forever be seared into my memory of the evening. Who knew a night of tasting fine Burgundy with the boys would turn out so?
Out of respect for the parties involved, I won't divulge specifics. Yet.
I'm working on consolidating my full tasting notes, and they should be up by the end of this week. Please stay tuned - this was a great tasting. Highlights included the Bouchard Père et Fils and William Fèvre tables. In the meantime, I wanted to address something that's been bugging me, something that became even more obvious during this event. I'm referring to the power of suggestion.
That is to say, when you taste wine, opinions of the people around you have a tangible influence on what you actually taste. Yesterday's tasting was fairly crowded, and I couldn't help but overhear some of the other attendees talking, not to mention the Domaine representatives present who try to give you a tasting note before they even finish pouring. An errant comment about fruit, oak, whatever, and suddenly my tasting notes are altered. I should know better. But how come I'm still susceptible, if even for the slightest instant, to tasting remarks from people who should have no place in informing my palate? Maybe I need to start wearing ear plugs to these things.
In the end, I completely drowned out all ambient noise. I even started ignoring what my friends were saying to me. And the result is that I'm more confident about these tasting notes than ones from any other tasting I've attended. Now, if only the rest of our night had gone as well . . .
This is an unbelievable story: Fake wine discovered at LCBO prompts police probe
But so many unanswered (or rather, unreported) details. Who were the people trying to return the wines? Who supplied the labels and certificate numbers? And what kind of moron makes counterfeit Amarone selling for an amateurish $34.95 a bottle?
A round of applause to the sharp eyed LCBO staff who identified the funny bottles.
DF
DF
2002 Bodegas Olarra Cerro Añon Gran Reserva, DOCa Rioja
I don't follow my own advice. All this talk about global drinking is useless because I always end up going back to true wines, not good tasting wines. I could devote pages and pages to what I feel is true wine, but simply put, they're wines that are authentic to place and time of origin, history and tradition. And you just cannot find these wines in the New World. Not yet at least.
2002 was an odd vintage in Rioja. Difficult weather, uneven ripening particularly for tempranillo - to make a gran reserva in 2002 was a confident move. This wine proved my skepticism wrong. Dark in colour, elegant, with minerals and floral notes. Has those soft, very textural tannins, finishing long. Excellent integration, and drinking very well.
What was I saying about global drinking? Right. Until New World vineyards have 50 or so vintages on the shelf, nothing comes close to the personality European wines have. As a partisan of Niagara wines, I hope, in my old age, to see their character blossom. Until then . . .
DF
Few weeks ago, Toronto had another one of those close but not quite snowstorms. And in typical Greater Toronto Area fashion, everyone panicked.
I was at a bar watching the NBA All-Star Game with a friend. I had a few beers, and with the wine I drank for dinner, came home a bit wobbly. It was beautiful outside, peaceful at 1am when the snow was still gently falling, no wind, red sky. So I started shovelling the driveway. I was so drunk that I had to lay down on my stomach to get this shot.
And in the morning, the cleared driveway was covered again. Like last night never happened.
DF
2007 Domaine Belle Les Pierrelles, AC Crozes-Hermitage
You see, this is a perfect example of how your perception of a wine can be wildly divergent from wine professionals. With all due respect, because I actually do agree with his tastes more often than not, John Szabo MS was way off on this Crozes-Hermitage. Way off. John wrote in his January 28th WineAlign newsletter:
There was more than a subtle murmur of excitement in the LCBO tasting lab as the writers came upon the Crozes-Hermitage, made from pure syrah. The appellation is not as highly regarded as the neighboring hill of Hermitage to the south, nor Côte-Rôtie across on the west banks of the Rhône River and further up-stream, nor even Cornas opposite. It’s more variable in style and quality, with some Crozes made using the technique of carbonic maceration to yield soft, simple, fruity reds for early enjoyment, while others are just simply lighter and less complex versions of more ‘serious’ northern Rhône syrahs. Yet there are a few producers with privileged sites whose exceptions prove the rules. Alain Graillot comes to mind, as does Jaboulet’s Domaine du Thalabert. Domaine Belle, on the other hand, is a new discovery for me, and it seems, is under the radar for many.
and
Pretty words, but in my opinion, the wine was anything but authentic, regional, or worth drinking. Bottle variation, tasting conditions aside, the wine tasted nothing like the above description. Nothing alike. It was overly macerated, confected, with a limp, flabby body. Cheap. Difficult to find any redeeming values - perhaps if it was $12.95, it wouldn't sting as much, but for $23, this is an incredibly limp-dicked wine.
I like syrah, especially from the northern Rhône. This should have been a quality wine, implied by both price and the labelling of a lieu-dit. So what's going on? Was this a bad bottle? Is my tasting ability suspect? Or is it the simple fact that everyone has different tastes and as much as you would like to, you can't always trust what a wine writer lays down in print.
Just don't tell me this is what a good syrah tastes like. It's not.
DF