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Fred Loimer Spiegel Veltliner 2003

Final call

Went to a friends’ house for a dinner today. And had the tricky task of providing a wine for salmon in a Mornay-like sauce. The natural choice would have been a white Burgundy or dry Chenin but I picked up the Fred Loimer Spiegel Grüner Veltliner 2003 instead. Expected this to be mature and nicely rich for this classic French butter & cream sauce.

2003 is a vintage I was heavily stocked with, and am only now finishing the last bottles of the whites. European readers surely remember the excruciating heatwave that nurtured Europe throughout August that year, and made for a fairly appalling collection of flabby, alcoholic, burned-fruity whites wines from Savennières through Alto Adige down to Danubian Austria. (Only the limit zones for dry whites wines, such as Champagne, the Mosel and Tokaj, seem to have produced decent wines in any quantity).

In their early youth these 2003 Rieslings, Sauvignons, Veltliners and Pinots were surely one-dimensional but with a certain fruity charm. With years passing, the fruit deteriorated, leaving unbalanced structure heavy on C2H5OH and low in life-giving acidity. Few have been the wines that have stood the test of 4–5 years, and 2003 has turned out to be the true ‘vintage of the devil’ as I have nicknamed it (for the white wines). To a lesser extent, I have similar feelings about 2006 in such regions as Austria, the Palatinate, or Chablis.

The Loimer Spiegel confirmed all what was wrong about 2003. Clearly it is the last urgent call for cru Veltliners from this vintage. This wine shows no minerality, no freshness, although a vestige of former green citrus pithiness perhaps. Palate is broad, alcoholic, vague. Alcohol is noticeable though perhaps not outrageous (13.5% on label; I can’t help thinking of a recently tasted F.X. Pichler ‘M’ Veltliner from 2006 which was 15+%), but it doesn’t really help the overall balance. This wine is not exactly unpleasant but has clearly lost most of its qualities.

Surely Veltliner, with its natural richness, earlier ripening, and moderate acidity was handicapped in 2003. Austrian Rieslings overall have fared better, and some are still alive. For example, the Schloss Gobelsburg Gaisberg Riesling 2003. There is no denying the devilish imprint of 2003, showing in a pervasive alcoholic warmth (despite there being only 12.5% on the label) but there is also some good substance and a whiff of acidity for nominal freshness. About recognisably Riesling, although the notes of butterscotch, honey, peach jam are really quite pushy. Don’t decant or leave sitting open for too long: chill well and enjoy with rich foods. And get rid of any 2003s you might still be sitting on.

Reinventing Bull’s Blood

No easy task…

As a consolation for a trip to Hungary I’ve had to cancel, I opened an Egri Bikavér.

Bikavér means Bull’s Blood in Hungarian, and this brand name is probably familiar to my British and German readers as it was one of the ‘export qualities’ of Hungarian wine in the 1980s. With the simultaneous collapse of Communism and rise of New World wines, Bikavér lost most of its Western presence, and I don’t think it is widely seen today. In Poland, it remains a popular brand at the lower end of the market. If you’ve 2€ to spend, look for the image of a bull on the bottom shelf of the supermarket.

Bikavér is a tricky subject, and in Hungary you’ll meet with all sorts of opinion as to where the name came from, where the wine was first produced, and what it should be today. The unequivocous facts are the following: Bull’s Blood is a red wine blend coming either from the northern Hungarian region of Eger or the southern one of Szekszárd. Theoretically it should be made of at least three different grape varieties, with Kékfrankos (a.k.a. Blaufränkisch in German-speaking countries) dominating, and some Kadarka and Portugieser (formerly called Kékoporto) in the blend. (In practice, there are no few French-dominated Bikavér blends, and the recent tendency is to increase the participation of Pinot Noir).

This lack of definition and consistency is the biggest problem of Bikavér today. There is no doubt both Eger and Szekszárd (as well as Hungary’s third leading red wine region, Villány to the east of Szekszárd) can produce impressive Pinot Noir, Cabernet Franc and Cabernet Sauvignon respectively, but it is equally obvious the indigenous varieties need to be positioned more strongly than they are today. No better occasion than to use the Bull’s Blood ‘brand’ to vehicle them to wider recognition. But too many Hungarian producers have been trying too hard. Late harvesting with 14.5% alcohol and ageing in 100% new high-toast oak have resulted in a series of caricatural reds. 2003 and 2006, warm vintages with lower acidity and higher natural alcohol, bring particularly unpleasant memories.

Hungary should not try to emulate New World or Mediterranean styles, nor join the nouveau riche fashion of oak & extract. It is, and will remain, a Central European country with a temperate climate, and should accordingly produce a medium-bodied, terroir-driven, crisp, mineral red from its historical varieties. We are beginning to see more and more such wines on the market (look for St. Andrea and Monarchia in Eger, and the very reliable Ferenc Takler in Szekszárd), but a lot remains to be done.

József Simon with his dog and best wine: 2000 Don Simon. Photo taken June 2005.

Today’s Bikavér is from bucolic and humorous József Simon, one of the good producers of Eger. His breakthrough vintage was 2000 when he produced a spectacular Egri Bikavér, full of personality and earthy spice, and an impressive Cabernet Sauvignon named Don Simon. The 2003 Bikavér is also very good. I am sad to say that the Egri Bikavér 2002 isn’t quite on the same level. The pale Pinot Noir-like colour is OK but the nose is underwhelming: herby, vegetal, meaty, sausagey, showing no depth or finesse I expect from this promising (but so rarely delivering!) Hungarian appellation. Some green bell pepper (from Cabernet Sauvignon?). Of course 2002 was a difficult vintage so the nose could be forgiven. but palate is equally underwhelming. Medium-bodied with again some Pinot Noir associations, a little green, quite alcoholic, with no finesse, depth or much pleasurability. And there is an odd sweetness sticking out (as if some residual sugar). Nowhere on the level of Simon’s excellent 2000. A pity.

Fondo Antico Grillo Parlante 2007

Long underdeveloped, Sicilian wines are gathering momentum. But few of the whites are exciting. Here’s the best of them all, made from the local Grillo grape.

Almaviva 1998

Preaching to the unconvertible

Went to see S.’s family tonight. Her brother-in-law is a wine buff, with a fairly decent cellar. Our tastes are very divergent: he likes Spanish wines a lot, so seeing him is always a good occasion to catch up with Iberic tastes (which, on my own, I almost never feel attracted to).

I brought a bottle of Valdelosfrailes Cigales Prestigio 2001. Valdelosfrailes belongs to Matarromera, a large producer from Ribera del Duero (the group’s other brands are inexpensive Emina and top-drawer Renacimiento). The overall quality is very reliable, although the style is somewhat commercial and safe. I have always liked the offerings from Valdelosfrailes, especially the Vendimia Seleccionada which I find one of the best value for money Tempranillo wines from Castile. I have never before tried the Prestigio, though. In all honesty, it is a little banal. There is good concentration but on the palate, the wine shows why Cigales will never be Ribera del Duero: depth and complexity are moderate, and the 14 months of American oak are showing. I don’t see this wine improving further (in fact, it might have shown better a year or two ago, with fresher fruit). From his cellar, R. generously offered the Almaviva 1998. I drink Chilean wine even more rarely than Spanish, and don’t think I ever tried a 10-year-old prestigious bottling like this. A very good wine but needs drinking now. Upon opening at cellar temperature, it is a little reticent, and shows a certain Bordeauxesque meatiness to the profile. Colour starts to acquire a warm reddish hue, aromas are blended into a harmonious and inviting if not terribly sophisticated or complex whole. Mouthfeel is comfortable, with well integrated oak and no greenness (which I detect in the majority of even the most expensive Chileans). With time in the glass, there is more sweetness and obvious New World character, although the French influence is always detectable. This is really quite good and drinking nicely now, but on the other hand, it doesn’t really have a lot of dimension. When I think current releases cost upwards from 40€ per bottle, Almaviva is quite overpriced.

Beethovenian wine

What wines did Beethoven enjoy?

Fougeray de Beauclair Picpoul 2007

Burgundy heads south

Got a nice package of samples from France earlier this week. Domaine Fougeray de Beauclair sent four of their burgundies from the northern Côte de Nuits (I will review these soon), but also three wines of their recent offspring to the Languedoc.

One of them is Picpoul de Pinet. It is safe to say that Languedoc as a region specialises in red wines; it takes a special terroir (usually upper than lower in the valleys) and, crucially, a careful selection of grape varieties to make a distinctive white. There surely are some good Chardonnays, Viogniers, Marsanne / Roussanne blends, and a growing number of exciting wines from Grenache Blanc, but also a large amount of pretty bland vins de pays.

Picpoul de Pinet is an oddity, in that is has a long tradition. Unlike the above mentioned grapes that have been imported from other parts of France in the 19th and 20th century, Picpoul (or Piquepoul, as it is often spelled) goes back many centuries and is considered one of the oldest varieties to be still cultivated in the Languedoc. It has a red-skinned version, Piquepoul Noir, that is theoretically permitted in the AOC Châteauneuf-du-Pape, and can be found in a few vineyards in Languedoc’s Minervois (see Clos Centeilles, for example). More common is the white Piquepoul Blanc, of which there is around 1,400 hectares, chiefly in the specialist AOC Coteaux du Languedoc Picpoul de Pinet. Located west of the ancient port of Sète on the gentle hills leading to the Étang de Thau, it yields an interesting white wine that is a perfect partner for the local seafood.

Fougeray de Beauclair’s Picpoul de Pinet Val Grieux 2007 is a good example of this rewarding appellation. Not a very aromatic white but there is a good amount of iodine-laden terroir scents. On palate this shows good balance and Picpoul typicity, with medium-highish acidity, some mid-palate textural density (almost hinting at honey), and medium body. Distinctly maritime but not overtly crisp, this is an unfruity but interestingly textured wine that is made for food. On the picture below, my choice of pairing for today’s lunch: saffron moules à la crème. The delightfully affordable Spanish saffron from La Mancha allows to generously flavour this sauce without too much of a financial headache.

8 wines from Angelo Gaja

A 500€ tasting

For several years, the Piedmontese star Angelo Gaja has held a trade tasting of his wines in Poland. On our ‘emerging’ market, it is still rare for prestigious producers to see such foresight.

For decades one of the renowned producers of Barbaresco with a large cellar bang in the middle of this tiny village, the Gaja operation has spread to three different zones in two Italian regions. Apart from the classic Barbaresco & Barolo wines (themselves undergoing redefinition: the cru bottlings have been declassified into simple DOC Langhe to allow an addition of Barbera to Nebbiolo), there is now the Pieve di Santa Restituta estate in Tuscany’s Montalcino, producing two Brunellos, and the more recent Ca’ Marcanda in the Tuscan Maremma, next door to Ornellaia, Sassicaia and a couple of other aias. The two Tuscan estates share one characteristic with the Piedmont headquarters – exorbitant prices – and a similar scale, but the vinification appears to be a bit more modern.

This was surely evident in the three Ca’ Marcanda bottlings: rich, fat, dense, low-acid, lavishly oaked wines with a fair bit of sensual excitement, but ultimately a bit boring. Surely the Toscana IGT Promis 2006 (Merlot dominating, with the balance Syrah and Sangiovese) is excessively alcoholic, macerated-fruity and soft-tannic; defined as an ‘everyday wine’ of this estate, it is in fact too big for that. So how to rate such an anonymous but qualitative wine? On to Toscana IGT Magari 2006 (Cabernet Sauvignon and Franc supporting Merlot): still alcoholic but more driven and elegant than the Promis, with better balance. In short, less Merlotish (or Shirazish). Finish is really long, and while hardly very complex or individual this is really showing top-drawer winemaking and fruit quality. The estate’s flagship Bolgheri Ca’ Marcanda 2004 (similar blend) is dense, sweet, fleshy, but less atractively fresh than the above. Little evolution; a very big, very modern wine.

I was excited to try the Brunello di Montalcino Rennina 2004 and Brunello Sugarille 2004, my first taste of bottled Brunello from this outstanding vintage. But more patience will be required: they showed really tight. In general, the Rennina disappointed: no architectural interest, medium length at best, and not terribly Sangiovese-typical. The Sugarille was in another league, on the riper side of ripe but balanced, improving with airing, with a clean essential core of good cherry fruit. The style is very modern (you know it is when Sangiovese smells of menthol) but I can’t really criticise it too much. Price is the only issue.

Contrarily to past years, when we tasted the entire Gaja range including the white wines, only three bottles from Piedmont were opened. I can’t really be bothered with the Barolo Dagromis 2003, a blend of Serralunga and La Morra vineyards (akin to mixing milk chocolate with ice, perhaps), a moderately modern but carefully unacidic wine with a floral, sweet, cherryish nose and soft palate (perhaps forgivable for a 2003). It would be a good middle-of-the-road Barolo from an unknown producer but we can expect more from Gaja. And he surely delivers with the Barbaresco 2004. This is the most traditional wine here – still blended from the original 14 vineyards selected by Giovanni Gaja in the 1970s – and has consistently been the most interesting of the range in recent years, while the expensive crus here have been increasingly massaged to soft-tannic oblivion. A ‘real’ expression of Nebbiolo, peppery and sturdy, unsimplistic, not too fruity, not too modern, concentrated, with a good finish, a certain semi-traditional elegance and silky texture. Young of course, I have faith it should move into the ‘outstanding’ category with five years, or ten. Finally the Langhe Nebbiolo Sperss 2000. Technically a Barolo from Serralunga d’Alba vineyards, but declassified into Langhe DOC since 1997; 6% Barbera is currently blended in (‘for more fruit brilliance’, a Gaja manager once explained; as if Nebbiolo didn’t have enough). Unevolved in colour but slowly constructing a more aged bouquet with notes of raw and stewed meat, a certain sweet cherry elegance, and decent breadth; a nicely balanced, very pleasing glassful on the palate with quite some tannic reserve to improve further. But shows a certain limitedness of 2000: just a little muffled and unvivid.

This tasting was consistent with my other recent encounters with Gaja wines. At the entry level they can be quite simple and a little heavy (especially those from Bolgheri), while the upper bottlings are undoubtedly classy, with balance, structure and potential to age well. And clearly Gaja is no more in the vanguard of iconoclastic modernism in Piedmont; other producers have pushed the frontier quite a bit farther. In fact, compared to the hyperoaky roto-fermented (and at times concentrator-aided) ‘Nebbiolos’ from Elio A. or Gianni V., Gaja is now looking like an old Italian gentleman, perhaps driving a tad fast in his sports car.

So what is the problem? Prices. The above bottles combined would have settled you no less than 500€. Gaja’s blended Barbaresco is 70€ per bottle retail in Italy; crus are north from 150€. The ‘everyday’ Promis is 20+€. There are legion equally good Barbarescos at half the price. But then, of course, Gaja has become a ‘global brand’.

Mas Jullien 1999

Mas Jullien belongs to the handful Languedoc wine estates that have been making a name for themselves for two decades now. Young Olivier Jullien is renowned for vinous France’s most contagious smile, but also for his humble approach to terroir and winemaking; his three wines (apart from the rare white and flagship red, there is a lighter, more affordable red aptly named États d’Âme) are probably the most transparent, stone-driven in the entire region.

Always too early.

I admit to have a patchy record with Mas Jullien. On several occasions the wine was either totally dumb, or filthily corked. On other ones, it was too young, and only hinting at its real dimension. I have a mixed case of vintages in the cellar but every time I think about opening a bottle, I withdraw in the fear it is too early.

On a recent trip to Wiesbaden I visited Weincontor, an outstanding wine merchant with the guts (a rare thing today) to cellar most of the wines they buy and release them when roughly ready to drink. Thus, 1998 Chianti, 1995 Mosel Riesling, 1999 Châteauneuf and 1998 dry Jurançon were purchased for forthcoming ‘occasions’. For drinking today, a Mas Jullien.

Contrary to what I expected, the Mas Jullien Coteaux du Languedoc 1999 is everything but mature. Typically for this wine, the colour is not too concentrated, showing a warm red tinge. On the nose, we get a core of solid cherry fruit, a bit of alcohol, and what I identified as Carignan herbiness (which is partnered by Syrah here). Surely an impressive wine on the palate, concentrated with lots of presence. Surprising acidity and surprising backwardness: not even merely mature, even though the tannins are softened and quiet. Really lots of zest: it is a Mediterranean wine, but there is also a high-grown uprightness and austerity of the high-perched limestone vineyards that the current vinous nomenclature labels Terrasses de Larzac.

This is a grown-up wine. If you come to the Languedoc for its luscious spicy fruit, look elsewhere (though you need look no farther than Mas Jullien’s États d’Âme). If you’re on your way down from Burgundy or Barolo, you’ll want to stay.

Bricco Mondalino Grignolino 2008

Grey wine

Continuing my indigenous Piedmontese grape varieties series, here is Grignolino. This one is far less obscure than Quagliano or Nascetta. There is around 1,000 ha of Grignolino grown in Piedmont, and it considered one of the region’s traditional wines.

The grape’s written tradition is two centuries old, but the variety itself is most probably much older. The style of wines it produces, too, is somewhat antique. It is the exact opposite of the fashionable modern red: low alcohol, low fruit (the bouquet is most often herby, vegetal, sometimes spicy), high acids, zesty tannins, and most significantly, very little colour – the wine is often qualified as rosé, while to me, it is reminiscent of what is called vin gris in the Loire: a palish red verging on grey. An old Italian dictionary I have at home defines Grignolino as a vino da pasto, secco e leggermente amarognolo (food wine, dry and slightly bitterish); bitterness is, as we know, the modern consumer’s greatest enemy. Poor old chap, Grignolino. Apparently nobody cares anymore. It continues to be made in the region around Asti and Casale Monferrato, its two last strongholds, but mostly to cater for the dying race of Piedmontese pensioners to wash down a carne cruda or agnolotti pasta.

The problem is that Grignolino cannot really make a more ‘attractive’ wine. Its name is probably derived from grignole, dialectal for pips, meaning that if maceration is not kept very short, they release a large amount of very bitter tannins, making the wine undrinkable. But short vatting means less colour. Late ripening also results in little body and fruit intensity. Traditionally, Grignolino was used as a blending grape to lighten up some hefty Barberas (and Freisas, not much seen today) from Asti. It is rarely proposed as a bottled varietal wine. Two examples I have tasted regularly and can recommend are by Braida and Marchesi Alfieri.

Today’s wine, Grignolino del Monferrato Casalese Bricco Mondalino 2006, is a different animal. A super-premium Grignolino produced by the small estate of Bricco Mondalino, it comes from a small 400-hectare DOC specialised in the grape. It retains all of its typical characteristics, but magnifies them into a wine of excellent intensity and character. First of all, there is the inimitable, pale ruby-pink colour that will make a Shiraz lover shiver with horror:

Good nose, full of sweet fruit (strawberries, raspberries and cherries), also a bit flowery; fleshy and racy. Palate is juicy and very clean, less full perhaps than you would expect from the nose: outstandingly fresh and driven, and also bitingly tannic. Subdued, pink- and grey-fruity, this remains what Grignolino usually is, a light-bodied fruit-driven wine with not great structural or architectural pretensions. There is also plenty of alcohol for Grignolino (14%, instead of the grape’s usual 12%), but it is well integrated. This is such a useful style of wine, and unjustly neglected today.

If you’re interested with Grignolino’s various clones and technicalities, see here.

Castell’in Villa Chianti Classico 2005

Sangiovese perfection

Over the past week I have been digesting my trip to Chianti. It reinforced my admiration for Sangiovese, which is fantastic grape capable of great depth and fabulous elegance. But it is also tricky. Pick it too late, smother it with new oak or a generous splash of Merlot, and it will lose all its finesse, becoming cumbersome, obese and boring.

That’s why in recent years, I have increasingly favoured producers with a ‘light touch’, and especially those that use old large oak barrels instead of new French barriques. I won’t be making a huge discovery in saying that Sangiovese doesn’t take new oak very well. If the grapes are really concentrated and the ageing is done deftly, wines such as Percarlo, Flaccianello or Fontalloro can be excellent, but there is a unique airiness and transparence in Sangiovese that only sees the tighter grain and cooling effect of traditional Italian botti.

In a restaurant in Castelnuovo Berardenga last week, I picked up a bottle of Castell’in Villa. It is an estate that somehow I have never tasted before. A strange one at that. It is mysteriously absent from many Italian wine books (meaning, probably, that they just don’t send tasting samples), and there isn’t even that much opinion about it on the internet. Yet among Chianti cognoscenti, Castell’in Villa enjoys an enviable reputation, especially for its older, pre-1990 vintages that are said to be among the finest examples of the above-mentioned airy, perfumed, acid-driven style of Chianti.

In recent years, this producer has introduced some small oak barrels in the ageing of its top wines, but this Chianti Classico 2005 only saw large botti. And it is a fantastic wine. Exactly the sort of unadulterated Sangiovese taste I was looking for. Colour is a bit darker than I anticipated for this traditional style: a transparent purple with not so much rim. Nose is delightfully fresh and fully announces what will happen on the palate: a solid core of the cleanest, juiciest crisp dark cherry. On the finish there is a moment of assertive, if unaggressive, perfectly pitched peppery tannins. The epitome of what a real Chianti Classico should be: clean, refreshing, driven, medium-bodied, serious, with good concentration. I honestly do not remember so much excitement in any other bottle of 2005 straight CC.

Castell’in Villa is located in Castelnuovo Berardenga,
on the southern outskirts of Chianti Classico.