Monthly Archives: March 2011

Full disclosure: I’ve started co-hosting wine tastings at my old place of employment, deVine Wines & Spirits. My good friend and fellow sommelier, Hayley McRae, currently hosts most of the tastings, and she was recently looking for a way to jazz things up around there. I offered my services, and voila – now I’m a co-host.

The first tasting I did was a sampling of the Barossa Valley. Another full disclosure: I’m not a big fan of Australian wine. It’s not that I hate the wines, it’s just that when I first got into wine, I drank a helluva lotta Aussie Shiraz. (I know, stereotypes be damned – there was no White Zinfandel phase for this gal.)

Eventually all that Shiraz started tasting the same, and coupled with all those kitschy animal labels, I kind of developed a self-imposed embargo on Aussie wine. (Incidentally, the same thing has happened with Argentinean Malbec.) In many ways this tasting renewed my interest in Aussie wine – or rather, renewed my interest in small production, interesting, high quality and good value Australian wine that stands apart from the masses. (Not that I really needed that interest renewed, but anyway.)

In particular I liked this Semillon. My shaky picture doesn’t do it justice:

2010 burge family olive hill semillon

I remember tasting an older vintage of this some years ago – I can’t recall the exact vintage, but it was definitely from the 90′s…1999 maybe? – and thinking that it was quite possibly the strangest wine I’d ever tasted. Words can’t even describe it, but no one in their right mind would ever think it was Semillon.

All the boys liked the Ball Buster (go figure, nyuk nyuk). Yes, I made dick jokes. Tasteful ones. And yes, such a thing is definitely possible.

2008 tait ball buster shiraz

This next wine was my favourite of the night, not because it had the best name (though it did – Ball Buster be damned), but because it was stanky. Yep, you read correctly – stanky. Not stinky. Stanky. Stanky means you’ve gone way past stink into brand new territory. Think sweaty horses stepping all over a bunch of saskatoons and blackberries. Then pooping on them. Mmm. (I am actually being completely serious.)

2005 massena the howling dog

Finally, I have to mention the Bishop, not because I was crazy about it (though it was tasty enough, just not my style), but because once upon a time I met the winemaker, Ben Glaetzer. This was waaaay back when I was just fresh-faced young whippersnapper who didn’t know a thing about wine. I remember asking him, in my ignorance, if he drank much wine. (I hadn’t been introduced to him yet, ok?) Only later did I realize that this amounted to asking the Pope if he goes to church much.

2009 glaetzer bishop shiraz

Even though I was still several years away from the title, it still feels like an Epic Sommelier Fail.

Last night I discovered a wonderful thing: Writers’ Tears Irish Whiskey makes a really, really good whiskey sour.

I had purchased this particular bottle for an article I wrote on the history of Irish Whiskey. And yes, I definitely also bought it for the name. Ireland is fiercely proud of its writers, as well as its whiskey – uniting the two just makes sense.

I didn't feed any whiskey to my cat, don't worry. He just liked the way the box smelled.

On its own, the Writers’ Tears has a bright and clean vegetal/grain profile; it’s very balanced. Its lack of any strong peaty, smoky, or woody undertones makes it an excellent cocktail base.

I made my whiskey sour with a slight variation on the standard recipe, substituting Cointreau for the sugar and using both lemon and lime juice. I like citrus.

Whiskey Sour Recipe:

2 oz. whiskey
3/4 oz. Cointreau (or about half a teaspoon of sugar)
1 oz.  lemon and lime juice

Pour everything into a cocktail shaker filled with ice and shake until your arms are sore. Strain into a chilled glass. Garnish with a slice of orange and  a maraschino cherry.

A couple weeks ago my husband Matt and I attended the California Wine Fair, an event I’ve attended regularly for the past several years. Since I did a straightforward preview post on the Fair a few weeks ago, I decided to shake things up and do a little play-by-play of some of the wines we tried. Enjoy.

2007 Parducci Sustainable White  & 2009 Sustainable Red (Mendocino)

Mel: “Beeswax and honey. The mouthfeel is like a Chenin Blanc.”

Matt: “What’s Chenin Blanc? I like the red. How come more wines don’t have “sustainable” on the label?”

Mel: “They do, but it’s on the back where no one reads it.”

Matt: “They should put it on the front, like this one.”

2008 Grgich Hills Chardonnay (Napa Valley)

Mel: “This isn’t as stinky or weird as the back vintage I tasted last year. Pretty good.”

Matt: “How do you say that? Gruh-gish? Gurg-chuh? Grrrchh? Grunnhhcchhnhh?”

Mel: “Gurr-gitch. They’re Eastern European. Lots of consonants.”

2009 Birichino Malvasia Bianca (Monterey)

Mel: “Cookies! Like those ones that come in a pack with pink and chocolate ones, but this is like the yellow ones. Wafer cookies? Do you know which ones I mean? Also apples.”

Matt: “Yeah I think they are called wafer cookies. This doesn’t smell like those, though.”

Mel: “You’re still tasting the Sustainable Red.”

Matt: “Oh yeah.”

2007 Peachy Canyon Westside Zinfandel (Paso Robles)

Mel (speaking to Jake, the winery’s vice president in sales): “This is making my mouth tingle. Hey, that’s a cool label (pointing to the Chronic Cellars Purple Paradise).”

Jake: “Yeah, that’s one of my other labels. We just try to have fun with it, you know?”

Mel: “Can I have a poster?”

Jake:  “Yeah sure. Do you want some chapstick too?”

Mel: “Ok.”

Matt (to me, walking away from the table): “That guy definitely smokes weed.”

Mel: “Duh. He lives in the middle of a vineyard in southern California.”

2008 Schug Sonoma Coast Pinot Noir (Sonoma)

Matt: “This reminds me of playing hide-and-seek in the forest at home when I was a kid, lying on the ground with my face up against the wet dirt and leaves and stuff and really hoping the game ends soon because I have to pee and I’ve been lying there for 15 minutes.”

Mel: “Yep, forest floor. Also strawberries.”

Matt: “Strawberries grow on the forest floor.”

Mel: “Touché.”

2007 Fess Parker Rodney’s Vineyard Syrah (Santa Barbara)

Mel: “Here’s a big boy. Leathery.”

Matt: “Mmmmmmmmm.”

2007 Beringer Private Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon (Napa Valley)

Mel: “Ok, I can see why they told us we should try this one. Holy shit it’s good.”

Matt: “Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.”

Mel: “Oh hey the silent auction is ending in five minutes! Let’s go see if I won that hat. I really want that hat.”

Matt: “I think you probably won the hat.”

(I did win the hat.)

Prince Edward County – ever heard of it? Nope, it’s not on Prince Edward Island. It is a wine region in Ontario that pretty much marks the eastern limit of that province’s wine growing area. The County is perched on a peninsula in Lake Ontario, and about 30 wineries eke out their vines in this very cool-climate region. Pinot Noir and Chardonnay predominate, as the region is too cool to support the longer-growing vines like Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot.

Closson Chase is one of the founders of the Prince Edward County region. They’ve been around since 1999, but this is the first time their wines have been available in Alberta. Last week I was invited by Kathryn Fraser for a sneak peak tasting of four of their 2008 Chardonnays. The tasting was held at The Marc and hosted by owner Patrick Saurette. It was my first time visiting this restaurant, and I must say I quite liked what I saw:

But more importantly, I liked what I tasted. I freely admit my personal bias to Canadian wine. It’s not just because they are pretty tasty (though they are), but also because the industry is still so young, and still in the process of establishing itself as an equal to the wine producing titans. I like an underdog.

2008 closson chase beamsville bench chardonnay

First up was Closson Chase’s basic Prince Edward County Chardonnay, which was lean and lovely. It was actually my personal favourite of the bunch, purely because I like my whites to have bracing acidity – which this had in spades. (I may be a bit of a masochist, at least when it comes to wine.) Crisp and fresh with lots of green apple, under-ripe pear and a hint of beeswax. It paired wonderfully with the fresh fruit Patrick brought out for us.

The second wine was the South Clos Chardonnay, which was a bit riper than the first, though it also had a great sting of acid and a crisp apple/pear profile.

2008 closson chase south clos chardonnay

The third wine, from the Beamsville Bench, had the most tropical fruit aromas, with ripe pear, citrus, white peach, wildflower honey and a lovely dry spice on the finish. The acid wasn’t quite as high as the other two, but it was still definitely quite up there.

The last wine was the K.J. Watson Vineyard Chardonnay, a single vineyard wine from the Niagara River VQA. This was easily the ringer of the group, with all components perfectly in balance and great complexity on the palate. The up-front citrus fruit rounds out into almond spice on the super long finish. It was superb with an aged Tomme that Patrick brought back from Quebec, though it would also do well with most characterful cheeses.

2008 closson chase k.j. watson vineyard chardonnay

The wines all retail somewhere between the $30 to $40 mark, and they are all very small production (only 250 to 350 cases of each are produced a year). I don’t have confirmation yet on which stores will bring them in, but your best bet is to check the wine boutiques – these ain’t box store wines. (Amen.)

Thanks again to Kathryn for sharing such lovely wines, and Patrick for hosting us in his great restaurant!

(Update November 2011: for whatever reason, this story seems to have disappeared from the Edmonton Journal’s website, so here is the new link to an archived version.)

***

Alberta has a wine industry. I know that an unfortunate number of you were not aware of this fact. I’m not blaming you, though, because it’s really quite a small industry. Ok, it’s tiny. Microscopic, even. Or at least it seems that way when compared with the massive wine output of California, Italy, France – hell, even the Okanagan Valley’s wine output completely dwarfs Alberta’s.

Obviously this is due to climate: the French vine varieties just can’t weather our winters. Plenty of the American and hybrid vines can, but they taste weird, and just don’t make for a mainstream mass-appeal wine.

But you can make wine out of pretty much any type of fruit (or vegetable, for that matter). Now, while that doesn’t mean you should start making wine from everything, it does mean that there are actually dozens of different fruits, that grow literally right in your backyard, that make lovely wine.

Barr Estate, the brainchild of Rick and Amy Barr, is the fifth and newest winery to open its doors in Alberta. It is also the first Albertan winery that was started as a winery from the very beginning – all the others began as fruit growers or honey producers. This is a pretty huge development, as it means that there is enough interest in local wines (no doubt buoyed by the surge of interest in local foods) to justify such an undertaking.

The Barrs are also pioneers in another sense: they spearheaded a change in legislation regarding liquor distribution in Alberta. Previously, cottage wineries were faced with two options regarding distributing their product: sell directly from the farm gate and farmer’s markets, and/or list their product through Connect Logistics, Alberta’s sole liquor distributor, for a fairly hefty distribution fee. The Barrs decided to boycott Connect on principle, so they were only able to sell their wine at markets and from their farm. However, they organized all the other Albertan wineries together and approached the AGLC asking for an exception – the same exception that microbreweries have been enjoying: selling their products directly to restaurants and liquor stores. This legislation was passed as of February 17, 2011.

I’ve said enough in this space; suffice to say that I’m very excited about Barr Estate, not just because their two wines, The Barb (made from rhubarb) and The Other Red (made from raspberries) are delicious – though they are – but also because of what it means for our local wine industry. Mark my words, Albertan wine is here to stay, and it’s only going to get better.

(Here’s the Journal story link again.)

During the very first shift of my current day job, I mentioned that I was a certified sommelier with several years’ experience in the wine industry. One of my co-workers was tickled pink by this, as he had just recently developed an interest in wine; I became the office’s resident sommelier.

He now consults with me on his Opimian purchases, and from time-to-time he brings me some rejects bottles that aren’t to his taste. (Inevitably they are Old World and/or stinky and/or just weird. He knows what he likes, and it ain’t that.)

The latest of these castaways is a wee pleasant 2008 Riesling from a producer in Alsace, Cave Vinicole de Hunawihr. It’s a lunch wine: light and fresh and meant to be had alongside salads and sandwiches and sunny patios. (Yes, the fact that this scenario is still four months away has not escaped my attention. Indulge me. Please.)

On the nose: fresh lemon, fresh Bartlett pear, crisp green apple, maybe a suggestion of honey (or is that ripe white peach?), and just a teeny tiny little smidgeon of that classic petrol/gasoline/vinyl beach ball Riesling aroma. (Like really teeny tiny. Almost imperceptible. Ok, maybe I imagined it.)

For the visually inclined, this bottle comes with pictures on the back. I'm not sure whether I find this helpful or condescending.

Light body with zesty lemon acidity and no residual sugar to speak of. The only thing out of place was a touch of bitterness on the finish, kind of like biting into the white pith of an orange or a grapefruit. Still, overall it’s quite pleasant, albeit simple. Lunch wine.

This month’s Living Proof column features Lillet, a strange, antiquated little French aperitif made from white Bordeaux wine and citrus liqueur. (FYI, if you happen to read a paper copy of Vue, you’ll notice that they accidentally printed a different author name on this article – but I assure you that it’s all me, baby.)

Lillet was a popular before-dinner drink in the early 1900′s, but these days it is mostly known as a component of the Vesper cocktail.

Let’s get one thing straight: I’m not a big James Bond fan. Actually, I’m not any kind of Bond fan. I’ve never read any of the novels, nor do I ever intend to. Admittedly I have seen many of the movies, and I did enjoy Daniel Craig’s pitbull-faced take on 007.

What I find more interesting about James Bond is his role in influencing cocktail culture; everyone knows about his infamous shaken-not-stirred vodka martinis, but more interestingly, this fictional character is also credited as the creator of a cocktail that became an underground classic.

Bond invented the Vesper cocktail in Ian Fleming’s 1953 novel Casino Royale; the 2006 film version includes this scene almost exactly as it is played out in the book. Upon sitting down to a game of poker at a casino, Bond calls over the server and orders a dry martini, then immediately changes his mind and proceeds to describe a drink recipe that becomes known as the Vesper.

As Lillet’s recipe was reformulated in the 1980′s, amping up the sugar and reducing the bitterness, the contemporary Vesper is quite a bit sweeter and less bitter than the one Bond enjoyed. Whether this is a problem is up to you; I don’t mind it myself, but there are some alterations a die-hard cocktail purist could make, such as substituting the Lillet for a mixture of orange bitters, Angostura bitters and a pinch of quinine powder. (Personally, I think this is going a bit overboard. I have no idea where you would find quinine powder, and honestly I couldn’t really care. Lillet is obscure enough for the Edmonton palate.)

And with that, I present you with Bond’s original recipe for the Vesper:

3 oz. Gordon’s gin (any other gin works too)
1 oz. vodka
1/2 oz. Lillet
lemon peel

Combine all ingredients in a pitcher of ice. Stir with a bar spoon for 30 seconds. Strain into a chilled glass. Drop in a slice of lemon peel.

Note: this is a big drink with lots booze in it; though Bond prefers something “large and very strong” before dinner, you might not. So keep this in mind and pace yourself, share it with a friend, or halve the recipe.