Chardonnay

I’m a picky person. I don't like very many things. I find the majority of fruits to be a bit too squishy, a small population of vegetables to be horrifying (brussel sprouts, lima beans, peas, cauliflower, etc.), most nuts to be too nutty. I don’t care for most sodas, the majority of tropical-themed juices, and anything MinuteMaid makes my teeth hurt.

And so it constantly surprises me how much I like wine. And how much I like all of the varietals. It's very rare that I'm horrified by a wine, Cupcake Red Velvet, being the most recent exception to the rule. (If it's a sweet red that makes non-wine drinkers go: "Mmm! Tastes like chocolate!" then I probably hate it. And it's probably Cupcake Red Velvet.)

Maybe a year ago, I would have put quite a few varietals in the list of things I didn’t care for – Shiraz, Zinfandel, Chardonnay, Riesling, Pinot Noir. But time and money have conquered most of these dislikes and turned them into loves. I have already chronicled my fear of Pinot Noir and the Oregon summer that lead me to drinking more regularly than a Cabernet or Merlot… But I haven’t spoken about many white wines.

I’ll start with Chardonnay. The Chardonnay obstacle was a mental roadblock - buttery whites that dominate female ordering on 90s television shows spelled out a “No thanks!” for me. The name even sounds terrible. When I say it in my head I imagine a bigger man from a Southern state pronouncing it in an accent, his large hands around a tiny, cheap glass of wine. Maybe it’s the alliteration, or the ugly “Chard” introduction to the word…

But then I had a really cheap, really great encounter with the Columbia Crest Two Vines Chardonnay. I don’t usually make it a habit to buy $6-$7 wines, but one summer day the Wine Spectator’s 89 point rating and the teeny price tag drew me in. You can read more about the tasting experience here.

And then I had another encounter, at over 2x the price of the Columbia Crest that solidified my taste for Chardonnay. I went to a Safeway wine tasting recently (it was every bit as sterile as it sounds, but I’m glad Safeway is trying to offer this!) and they had available a La Crema Chardonnay, Pinot Noir (from the Sonoma coast) and Kendall Jackson’s Summation red. I won’t go into how much I resist buying anything with a name so boring as Kendall Jackson and I’ll admit that I loved the Summation blend (against my aesthetic, creative judgment). I didn’t have high hopes for the Chardonnay, but once again, was surprised.

The 2009 La Crema Chardonnay ($14.99 on sale at Safeway/off sale $20) is a delicious, more adult Chardonnay). Though it was still rich with oak and silky smooth, the wine had a great hint of acidity that cut the smoothness. The dimension in this Chardonnay, blended flavors of honey and apple, complimented by the acidity, pushed it beyond the designation of an easy drinking, summer porch wine Chardonnay. I was blown away by the taste in store and bought it to go with some fresh basil, tomato, and mozzarella pizza. The freshness of all of the flavors reminded me of the crispness of early spring.

If you, like me, fear the large man holding a tiny glass of Chardonnay, pronouncing Merlot “Mer-lot,” or equally fear turning into a mini-skirt clad 90s lawyer ordering Chardonnay at a local bar (I’ve been watching Ally McBeal) – then try the La Crema Chardonnay. I think you’ll take a sip and picture a satisfied oenophile on a terrace somewhere in California, looking over a rolling sea, listening to sea birds.

A Brave New World

I’m back in Oregon, after a very quick month at the Denver Publishing Institute, and it’s nice to be in a place that has clouds and living grass. Though my days, for the past three weeks, have been filled with fruitless job searching/applying/begging, I did arrive home to my birthday gifts: two Riedel wine glasses and two coupons for the wine(s) of my choice. My excessively heavy suitcases still in the car, my boyfriend and I stopped by Fred Meyer to find a New World wine (either a cabernet sauvignon or merlot) that would best compliment my new glasses. We settled on a bottle of Joel Gott 815 Cabernet Sauvingon from California. Because it was a special occasion and Ben had been so generous (naïve?) as to put a $20 per bottle ceiling on the wine coupon, I splurged… well, I guess he splurged. I had this wine last Thanksgiving with my family, at the recommendation of a local wine shop, Grapes, in Hawaii, and I’d remembered it as being extremely good. I suppose that writing that $16.99 for a bottle of wine is a splurge affirms my current income-less state, but this wine even tastes spendy. 

In order to prove that my recent wine accoutrement accumulation was worth it, I taste-tested this wine with a various cast of glasses and with and without my aerator. I first tasted the wine in a small wine glass not designed to enhance a red wine; second, I then aerated it in that same glass and tasted it; and third, I aerated the wine and drank from the new glasses. The difference was extremely noticeable. The first glass left something to be desired. I felt as if the wine needed to be swirled in the glass or left open on the counter so that the bouquet could open. The wine tasted too simple for a cabernet. After aerating the wine, in the second step, the nose was distinct with scents of cherry, and the tannins were stronger upon the swallow. When I used my new glasses, specifically designed for cabernets, the wine tasted exactly as a cabernet should. It opened with a light taste of cherry and was followed by notes of cedar (the cedar notes were made evident only in the final test). The long finish was extremely smooth with structured tannins and a hint of acidity.

Though I went through this tasting process, this wine never tasted too sharp or undeveloped. I'm pretty sure that it'd taste great even in a coffee mug as long as you let it breathe for a bit. This wine was exceptionally smooth and embodied the best elements of a cabernet—full-bodied, hints of berry and with noticeable tannins on the long finish. The bouquet and mouth-feel were much more complex than a merlot, but the smoothness and light notes of fruit made it much more drinkable than a zinfandel or even a malbec. So if you have any hesitations about this varietal, give the Joel Gott a try and you'll be an instant convert. I'd recommend this wine to everyone and anyone. 

Have any suggestions for a wine to taste, try and love? Leave me a comment and I’ll see what I can do!

The Great Denver Travesty

My lack of wine-blogging lately has started to take a mental toll (let's not use the word "withdrawal") and even though I am eating Spongebob Mac and Cheese out of a mug right now instead of drinking a nice red wine, I can’t go another day without writing a post. This sorry picture, luckily, is due to extenuating circumstances and not due to a post-grad recession into childhood. I’m actually living in a dorm in Denver, Colorado while I attend the University of Denver Summer Publishing Institute, a month long course designed to give students a jump-start into the publishing world.

Denver is an interesting place. It’s dry, hot, stormy and many of the lawns seem to be un-mowed in the surrounding area. But the weird weather and lack of yard maintenance quickly became the least of my worries. Car-less, I walked to the Safeway yesterday in the middle of a thunder and lightning storm to buy some groceries and a bottle of wine. However, I was horrified at what I found: no. wine. aisle. There were no cheerful signs advertising the California merlots, no scant section of “Imports,” not even the familiar gleam of the hardly-drinkable Yellow Tail populating the end-of-aisle display. It was, by far, the greatest supermarket travesty I have yet to experience. As it turns out, Denver only sells 3.2% beers (read: not worth it) in grocery stores… A horrifying prospect but a reality. So until I can find a liquor store in the sweaty, 90-degree weather, I must go without. My stem-less red wine glass is sitting alone in a drawer, my corkscrew without a cork, my palate without the gentle caress of well-rounded tannins, my teeth without the telltale sign of too much red wine!

Instead I am left to recommend to you a wine that I know and love and can only dream of ingesting right now: the 2009 Bogle Petite Sirah ($8.99-$9.99 in most grocery stores). I’m not normally a fan of Syrah/Shiraz* but this varietal, though it sounds like a small Syrah, is entirely different in taste and partially different in origin. The Petite Sirah, as it is known in the U.S., is made from the Durif grape, a cross between a Syrah and a Peloursin grape. Though the origin of the Petite Sirah is linked to the Syrah grape, I find it to be a much more drinkable wine. I can drink the Petite Sirah with absolutely anything, whether it is a light salad or a heartier, spicier meal. The wine is full-bodied without being overpowering, with a smooth combination of fruit and oak. The finish contains a hint of the spiciness for which the Shiraz and Syrah wines are known. I actually went through a period in which I drank only this Petite Sirah because I just couldn't entrust my $10 to any other, potentially bad bottle of wine. When my recycling bin started to look like a wine bar's glass disposal,  was forced to branch out into more untrustworthy wines. I still drink this wine when I'm feeling unadventurous and need a good bottle to accompany my night. At under $10 a bottle, it is an amazing buy!

*Like Pinot Gris/Pinot Grigio, Syrah usually means that the wine is from the French Rhone Valley and is a lighter, more acidic wine. Shiraz suggests a more full bodied wine from Australia. When the wine is made in the U.S., then the name suggests what flavor you can expect from the wine, according to the previous distinctions.