If you haven’t had a Chinese wine…

That may soon change.  A winery in the northern region of the country was just awarded top honors for its 2009 vintage Cabernet blend at the 2011 Decanter World Wine Awards.  Check out the full story on Decanter.

The Counter-argument

A new(er) study shows the commonly inferred health benefets associated with red wine may be misleading, if not false.  The story appears on NPR’s food blog:

Why the shame?

Hi neighbor.

My wine pursuits have been a bit scattered lately, but I have to come clean with a lager that I have enjoyed during this intermission.  It’s a New England brew, and has been making a very substantial comeback the past five years.  Did you guess it?: Narragansett.

Since its demise, the beer has earned a bit of a reputation for being cheap and banal.  I used to lower my head and cover my face while waiting in line at the register to purchase my six-pack of tall boys (that’s right- 16 oz. cans)- until recently.  The new uptick seems to be attributed to an attention to the brewery’s grass roots, a reinvestment in the product by a group of enthusiastic entrepreneurs, and a revival of the 120-year old recipe.  Will it get you style points at the piano bar? Probably not- yet.  It’s not a craft brew, nor does it pretend to be.  Yet if I rate the ancient lager alongside the microbrews I frequently enjoy, it still fares well.  It’s nothing short of being a full-bodied, yet subtly articulated joyful draft about which you can have a nostalgic conversation with your father, aunt or grandpa.  Can beer span the generation gap?  Yes, yes it can.

The new organization is campaigning to build a brewery in New England, and re-establish itself as “the local beer.”  You can check out their progress on the Narragansett beer website (if, of course, you are 21!)

 

 

It’s Chili Season

But I thought this was a wine blog?!

Don’t worry your pretty little face- this is still a wine blog.  In truth, I’ve realized this little project’s merit as a reflection of my own pattern of interests.  Here it is, my anticipated personal tangent:  My interests are very constant, but there is an ebb and flow to the intensity in which I am invested.  That didn’t take too long, did it?

Accordingly, I have decided that my active contribution to this blog depends upon bringing in other related subject matter, of which I can convincingly dedicate myself to the craft of a misconception wherein I am perceived as a reliable authority.  Enter: Cooking!

Given the season, it seems only appropriate to talk first about a food that warms my soul: chili.  The dish I prepared is (surprise) not entirely conventional.  Rather than critique my own chili creation (which I did enjoy), I’ll simply share the recipe and welcome any commentary.

Dagger's Vegetarian Chili with a 2007 Banfi Chianti Classico

Begin with a large pasta pot.  Pour in a can of cream of celery soup, 2 cans of water, and a can of stewed tomatoes.  Stir, set the cooking surface to low and cover.  Next, prep a large skillet with olive oil and garlic.  Turn to medium heat.  Chop up one eggplant, and combine with a a can of red kidney beans and a can of cannelini beans.  Pour ingredients into the prepped skillet.  Let the beans and eggplant simmer.  Once the eggplant has softened and the cannelini beans have begun to brown, pour the contents from the skillet into the covered pot.  Stir the ingredients and cover again, keeping heat on low.  Finally, cut up the following: 4 tomatoes, 1 large onion, a bundle of green onions, and 2 jalapeno peppers.  Mix ingredients, and pour into the large pot.  Stir thoroughly, and bring the heat up to medium.  Season with cumin, basil and red pepper flakes.  Continue to stir over medium to medium-high heat for the next 20 minutes.  At that point, you may turn the heat back down to simmer, and serve.

Feel free to pair with a wine of your choice.  For me, it was an equally spicy chianti.  I like to sweat.  It doesn’t help me make friends.

Ode to the American Barbecue

As I sit here in my uncomfortable chair drinking boxed Merlot, I realize that the one-year anniversary of my last post is rapidly approaching, and it would behoove me not to give my readers a quick blurb to whet their appetites.  Acting upon the assumptions that I do in fact have readers, that what I’m gulping is actually Merlot, and that I have something tangible to impart, I shall proceed.

I should caution you that this will not be an educational post.  In fact, by continuing to read, your perceived intellect may actually depreciate.  I say perceived because, in my not so humble opinion, I believe that most of us are as intelligent as we allow, or perceive ourselves to be.  In fact, by allowing yourself to believe that you have the required faculties to comprehend a notion, a thought, a theory, an intangible, you have already taken your first steps towards comprehension.  This is the underlying foundation in my surprisingly confident attitude regarding wine.  Indeed, if I were to freely offer opinions about my significant area of expertise, I would be writing about architecture.  In choosing to write about wine, I have accepted that it is something I can eventually comprehend, and have made efforts to assure myself of such.  In truth, I admittedly have a rather weak palate, but find excitement in studying labels.  So what?

I digress.  It is summer, and as such I have found myself nearly every weekend in the same place.  Perhaps the address differs, or the company, or the occasion, but the inescapable grasp of the backyard barbecue seems to grab me every week.  Red solo cups, warm wine, and desserts that I should not be eating seem to appear at each venue.  I usually return home with some of the wine or poison ivy.  Through the circumstances surrounding last weekend’s event, I was lucky enough to acquire both.  Nothing cures a red, itchy ankle like a glass of wine you didn’t pay for.  You begin to recall the cookout, and you remember a friend introducing you to someone as the “one who writes the wine blog.”  You realize you don’t even know (or care) what is in your cup, nor have you written in some time.  And there you are: on the spot, with a new acquaintance assuming you have something profound to say.  In truth, you are only aware that you will soon need a refill, and that writing about wine in the form of a blog is only an excuse to justify the amount of wine that you drink.  “I have to drink this glass: it’s for an article that I am writing (which will not be read).”

What’s my point?  1. I needed an excuse to write, and this was it, but also 2). Summer is brutal.  If you find yourself at a barbecue, as an alleged “wine enthusiast”, do yourself and everyone else a favor and just blend in.  Drink the Corbett Canyon (as I am doing so presently), eat what you want- regardless of whether you would ever pair it with the wine you are drinking- and stay away from poison ivy.  If you truly do know what you are talking about, and offer up unsolicited information about the (likely) inexpensive wine at the party, you will be labeled a snob faster than the DOCG slaps their pink label on a genuine Chianti.  Just relax and blend in.  Bruce Wayne can manage to host exquisite parties, with Gotham City PD in his mansion, without giving away that he is Batman (by the way: I’m talking about Michael Keaton, the REAL Batman).  If Bruce Wayne can keep his identity a secret, so can you.  The barbecue is just not the setting to reveal your encyclopedic knowledge.  Also, stay away from poison ivy.

A Taste of Europe- From California

My Autumn beer celebration has nearly drawn to a close, and I once again have the time to focus my attention on my true liquid passion: good wine.  I feel that beer deserves a quick plug, as I do not wish to discriminate, and am by no means a snob.  Seasonal fall beer is something I look forward to for nine months every year.  It’s like waiting for a baby.  Except in the case of fall beer, the baby is infused with pumpkin on top of the regular wheat and barley, and in the best of scenarios has a punch that smacks your soul and says “Hey, I’m a fall brew, and I’m going to keep you warm in spite of the fact that you can’t pay your heating bill” (let the records show that I have a $0.00 balance with the oil company, and am speaking only hypothetically).  The point is, I’m guilty of having an affinity for fall beer, and have deviated tremendously from my task of exploring outstanding wines.  Alas, I can stay away no longer.

As a reward to myself for surviving another week, I decided early today (Friday) that I would hit the store and pick up a deliciously fermented treat.  If you’ve followed my blog at all (literally no one comes to mind), then you know that I had a fling last spring with European wines.  I delved into lovely French Bordeaux’s and Burgundies, Italian Chiantis and Montepulcianos, German Rieslings, and Irish… I loved Europe!  I still do.  However, the little patriot inside of me has been consciously sampling more and more domestic grapes, and has been quite pleased.

Tonight’s obsession?  I grabbed a $12.99 bottle of zinfandel from California.  Nothing particularly remarkable, except it bore the inscription “Old Vines”.  Before I go on, I have a small confession to make that may perhaps be already eerily evident.  My brain is far ahead of my palate in terms of wine appreciation.  I can tell you that from the bottle of Bogle Vineyards Zinfandel, Vintage 2007, the “Old Vines” term refers to the grape vine’s history, tracing them back to Europe over a century ago!  They were apparently transplanted from the Old World in an effort to develop a wine producing industry in the U.S. in the early 20th century.

While perhaps not taken quite as seriously at first (and for good reason), I believe some of our domestic vintners have quite a bit to boast about in the 21st century.  This particular zinfandel is (not surprisingly) dry, with a slightly bitter finish, a long finish at that.  As one who is still a self proclaimed novice, I will not go much further, especially considering that I rarley drink zinfandel.  However, to any who do drink zinfandel on a somewhat regular basis, I would encourage sampling Bogle Vineyards Old Vines Zinfandel, and compare it with a favorite similar varietal.  It gets my full (though slightly naive) endorsement.

Frankly, I’ve enjoyed a bit too much of this zinfandel at the moment to make a cohesive argument.  Admittedly, a true viniculturist does not imbibe enough wine to impair sound judgment.  Lucky for me, I am not a viniculturist, and am rather self impressed that I have typed that word correctly two times in a row without error.  Try the Bogle.  Try any domestic and pair it with an import.  I think you’ll be quite surprised.

An Alternative White Wine

Admit it: white wine can often be a bore.  Of course we’ve all had our healthy shares of Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc, and Pinot Gris (and Pinot Grigio now that the Italian pronunciation has became more popular).  There are reasons why we have these, however.  Valid reasons.  Any among us with a mind for our personal budgets would attest immediately to the value of finding a “typical white” in nearly every price bracket.  I once picked up a bottle of Chardonnay to cook with for $2.67 (the rest of the story reads something like this: I convinced my roommate that it was a very expensive bottle, I used a splash for cooking, and we drank the rest- my roommate thinking he was rather classy).  I suppose that makes me a liar, but I would argue that in the ’30s the cost of the bottle would have been a great sum of money.  I’m not responsible for inflation.

Nevertheless, we have other whites to go to when we want something a little bit… a-typical.  Take my experience tonight, for example.  My girlfriend and I found a bottle of Chenin Blanc for about $11.00.  It’s perhaps a bit lesser known by its varietal name, but you’ve probably seen it.  Go to the French section of your local liquor store (a good place to start- always).  Amongst the Burgundies and Bordeaux’s you may find a white label: Vouvray.  Vouvray is a part of the Loire Valley.  Chenin Blanc is the grape used.  It’s the same as the Chianti phenomenon.  Few remember that the grape is actually the Sangiovese, and the name Chianti only denotes the region where the grapes are grown.

My palate has yet to be disappointed by a Chenin Blanc.  From the few scraps of elementary literature I’ve read, the “wine experts” will tell you that the grape can run anywhere from bone dry to semi-sweet.  I have yet to try one that isn’t at least semi sweet.  Perhaps it’s the particular Vouvray style (?).  Have it with a light meal.  It can stand alone as well.  For me, just try it cold first.  We all have our own distinct preferences, and that is to be ultimately respected.  But while I’m disrespecting you at the moment, just take my advice, for what it’s worth, and have the Chenin Blanc cold.  If you don’t like it that way, leave me a comment, and I will write your name down in my book that I keep of people who I need to confront about their poor taste.  Just kidding.  Sort of.  Have it warm if you’d like to.  I hear wearing a wool sweater in July in Florida is a good decision as well.  Cheers!

The Other Italian Red

Montepulciano d'Abruzzo

No, I’m not talking about tomato juice.  The truth is the Sangiovese grape, and its famously known Chianti region have become so popular that we (myself included, until my recent triumph) have nearly forgotten about some very delicious wines.  I’m not slighting Chianti by any means, but let’s not forget about Abruzzo.  There, it is not the Sangiovese grape that dominates vineyards, it’s the Montepulciano.

I wish I could say that I have an expert knowledge regarding the Montepulciano grape, or the Abruzzo region, but I do not, and I could never lie to my most revered readers (Hi Dad).  I can say that I have been “sampling” (a euphemistic term) many different Montepulcianos for the past several months, and have yet to be even remotely disappointed.  Characteristically, all have felt soft on the palate, somewhat dry, but finishing smoothly without the bite that its cousin the Chianti is often known for.

One particular varietal I have been very pleased with is a brand called Quattro Mani (Four Hands), from the Abruzzo region.  It retails for about $10 in liquor stores, or for about $34 in high end Italian restaurants (where I had it for the first time…)  Whether you find Quattro Mani or not, go give any Montepulciano a try.  If you’re taste is similar to mine (i.e. good), you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

California Wine Country Cuisine

The following is a link to a fairly enticing article I’ve been sent about food and wine in the Napa and Sonoma counties, primarily.  Although I just finished a relatively filling meal, reading this article (and looking at the arrangements of food within) has aroused my appetite yet again.  It addresses mostly light, summer dishes, but what better to dwell on when you’re crawling through the doldrums of winter?  That’s right: a chill glass of wine in the summer.  Back to day-dreaming…

http://www.cookinglight.com/food/vegetarian/california-wine-country-cuisine-00400000036900/page2.html

March: Wine of the Month

Yes, another month has come and gone, as March awaits before us, poised with all the good things that the last month of winter brings: sleet, mud, grayness, rain, slush, more gray, potholes, and yes, grayness.  It also brings a new season of baseball, as well as this humble recommendation of mine for a very enjoyable wine.

It is none other than Louis-Jadot’s Beaujolais-Villages (Burgundy) 2007.  I had a glass (several) of this blessed grape concoction this past weekend, and was so pleased, that I* had to buy another bottle today (*- my father had to buy a bottle).  It is quite possibly the most balanced wine I have tasted in all of my extensive memories.  It is very soft on the tongue, and ripples ever so slightly across the median between bitter and sweet, though you would never call it either.  Its scent (or bouquet, if you’re one of those people) is very strong and complex, leaving you feeling almost betrayed by its balance after you take your first sip.  It hurts to be lied to, but seeing as I couldn’t stand the thought of putting this wine aside, and perhaps finding a younger, fresher wine which wouldn’t truly make me happy, but merely keep my mind occupied from thinking about the Beaujolais… I stuck by my bottle.

There are a few important things to know when selecting a Burgundy wine, if you’re as unfamiliar as I have been.  The first of these important notes is that the Burgundy region produces reds made from primarily, if not nearly exclusively the pinot noir grape.  Within the region, the simplest way of measuring quality (before you taste and form your own opinion- of course) is to look for the level of detail on the label.  If it simply reads Burgundy, that means the wine was probably produced from Pinot Noir grapes from several vineyards across the region, and is questionable (though not necessarily poor) in quality.  If the label specifies a particular town or village, in this case- Beaujolais, then there is a certain reassurance (as well as price) associated with being able to more accurately pin down the location of the wine’s birth.  Finally, if the label provides the specific vineyard where the wine was produced, you know you’ve found something, at the least, very reputable.

Go forth and enjoy.  You’ll find no shortage of Burgundy wines available, and there’s doubtless one for you, just resting somewhere, growing older, hoping for someone to bring it home and share its life with.  Learn some French.