Tag Archives: France
Three Gamays
A week or so ago, I swung into Everyday Wines in Ann Arbor. Jackie pointed out some new wines, including a few of her favorites. I decided to select a few gamays that she and Mary were enjoying. Some tasting notes:
2006 Cote de Brouilly, Domaine de Robert Perroud – Smells like flowers, spice cake, cola, and dried cherry. I’d think at first whiff that it was destined to be sweet and luscious. And it begins to hint at those ripe, fruit forward flavors. But there’s some serious grip to this wine, even after a few years of bottle age. The finish doesn’t linger, but there’s depth here. Lots of pretty layers to this.
2009 St. Pourcain, Chambre d’Edouard, Domaine Grosbot-Barbara – Light and fun, there’s that quintessential stony nose characteristic of so many Loire wines. This is obviously a brighter wine, though, with less “rocks” and more pure fruit. A Pinot Noir/Gamay blend that’s dominated by the former, this is the most delicate and playful of the three wines I’m trying. Tart cherry, berries, and flowers. A real value in the neighborhood of 15 bucks.
2010 Gamay La Boudinerie, Noëlla Morantin – This wine can be a bit of a head scratcher at first. On one hand, this strikes me as being very similar to any number of dirty, rustic Loire Valley gamays, most notably from the Touraine appellation. On the other hand, this does have some interesting qualities. And in reading up on Morantin’s wines, it looks like she does indeed work in that region and is located near the sites of some of my favorite Loire gamays. So this is in many respects the essence of natural wine reflecting terroir: the natural yeast, the soil, the grapes, the weather should all be similar to these other wines. With minimal manipulation, it’s unsurprising that there are so many features similar to other wines I love. So what this may lack in distinctiveness relative to other “natural” gamays from the region, it makes up for in enjoyment and expression of a place and an ideal. All that bullshit aside… There are grape undertones to an otherwise earthy nose. Mildly herbal, there are mostly berry flavors here and a bit of astringency and acidity at the finish. Opens up quite a bit over a half hour. While this strikes me as a bit dull and earthy, it’s fundamentally nice stuff with a rustic yet feminine quality.
Some of these, notably the Morantin, are available elsewhere, but if you’re in A2, stop in and see Mary, Jackie, or Putnam at Everyday Wines in Kerrytown!
From the Charente to Oaxaca
Despite being situated near the few Californian wineries I enjoy, Ukiah was a town unfamiliar to me. But over the days following my first sip of Maison Surrenne cognac, I began to do a bit of reading on the producer and the US-based representative of the product, a company out of Ukiah called Craft Distillers.
My simple 10 minutes of web research turned into an eye-watering 5-hour journey down the web research rabbit hole. I’m officially adding brandy to the list of drinks to which I’m more or less addicted.
Ansley Coale, who has been kind enough to read and comment on my previous cognac blog post, founded Craft Distillers to help distribute artisanal spirits ranging from cognac to mezcal, whiskey to rose liqueurs. He’s also involved in a distillery in Ukiah that carries the name of his partner, Hubert Germain-Robin, the latest in a long line of brandy producers, albeit the first on this side of the Atlantic.
Having now sampled that California brandy, two cognacs, a mezcal, and a rose-infused liqueur, I feel confident saying the items with which Mr. Coale associates himself are superb examples of their various styles and among the better spirits I’ve had recently.
His products – save Hangar One vodka, which he sells to subsidize his other endeavors – are not available in Michigan (of course), but they are worth saving up for and hunting down. I posted about my first bottle of Maison Surrenne Borderies, but there are some additional notes below.
Finally, I’ve also learned a thing or two about appropriate glassware. While I don’t subscribe to the theory that 20 different wines or beers require 20 unique glasses, I certainly hold it to be true that glassware has an effect on what we taste. In this case, the claims that a tulip glass are superior to a snifter are unquestionably true. Snifters create a more volatile, hot drink, whereas the tulip glass seems to emphasize the fruit and barrel flavors.
So armed with a tulip glass, I went about sampling some new drinks (Photos are courtesy of Chance Landrews, staff photographer at the Sugar House Bar):
Maison Surrenne, Petit Champagne Cognac, Lot 1991
There’s the same buoyant, delicate quality as the Borderies (as noted in my previous post on cognac, Bordieres and Petit Champagne are specific regions within Cognac) I’d had previously. But it isn’t so rich and silky, nor is it as clearly violet scented or flavored. More so, it has subtly sweet, fleshy fruit qualities. The finish is a bit hotter and spicier, though that’s not to say it’s inelegant. Quite the opposite. It’s a very well-balanced drink. Compared to this region, Borderies is supposed to have richer soil due to river deposits, and that’s unsurprising — this has a stonier, sharper edge.
Germain-Robin XO Select Barrel
This couldn’t be more opposite than the Surrenne above. The wood shows more of its role here in the form of a much richer, denser body. Aromas of caramel and grilled/baked fruits. Oaky vanilla flavors, though the caramel isn’t noticeable on the palate. And then there’s the fruit. I don’t know enough about brandy to understand if this relates to the distillation process or to the heavy amount of American pinot noir, but there’s a strawberry and apricot nose to this and very subtle red fruit flavors. I didn’t sense them in my first taste, but the more I got accustomed to this drink, the more I became fixated on some of these fruitier flavors rather than the barrel flavors. Regardless, this is a deep spirit, equally potent and nuanced.
Los Danzantes Los Nahuales Reposado
I’ve had much smokier mezcals, though I always get the feeling that they’re smoky to cover something else up. Not so here. Instead, this has true depth from the first whiff through the lingering finish. There’s a certain orange-ish flavor reminiscent of some Irish whiskies, but it’s dominated by a sweet, pleasant smokiness. It’s not salty in the way scotch can be, but it has a mineral quality about it that lends a similar edge. I’m hardly a mezcal expert, but some friends who were tasting with me – Dave from Sugar House and James from Great Lakes Coffee – and I have had Del Maguey, Arette Gran Classe Anejo Tequila, and/or other, similar drinks, and this absolutely belongs in that class. A real treat.
The quality prompted me to do some reading, and it turns out that this is aged in French oak, rather than American, and that the brothers who produce the product use very sweet, mature agave in the distillation and aging. Also, take a peek at the label: This is essentially a varietal mezcal, using the one type of agave, espadin. There are numerous others. Further research is required.
Crispin’s Rose Liqueur
This is the purest expression of a macerated fruit, herb, or flower I’ve ever had. The distiller, Crispin Cain, distills a mead with apple (if I recall correctly, a mead-cider hybrid is called a cyser) to form the base for this spirit, into which goes heirloom rose petals. It’s drier than it smells, though it’s certainly still kissed by sweetness. To smell this, though, is to smell a rose. Great flowers have a depth to their aromas, and this liqueur expresses that sensation. It’s plump. And on the tongue, there’s more of the same, though again, accented by that honey-ish sweetness. It’s a bit too pricey for me to turn this indulgence into a regular habit, but I’m genuinely pleased to have tried it.
It’s a shame these aren’t available here. But like I said, they’re worth seeking out.
An Epiphany: Maison Surrenne
Several months ago, I was privileged enough to have a friend serve our dinner party a glass of a cognac with some lengthy barrel aging. I didn’t have much context for cognac: Other than Hennessey or Courvoisier, I’d never really had any French brandy. That first drink didn’t haunt me in continuous fashion the way my first glass of Talisker scotch did, but it definitely lingered in my mind, surfacing every month or so. It was enjoyable and unique. I thought I finally decided to do something about it.
Maison Surrenne is a large distillery, boasting eight cellars of brandy covering multiple regions of Cognac. I’d be lying if I understood the organizational structure and how the family history ties into the business and the region, but it’s worth noting that this bottler is apparently still family owned.
My first purchase was their unblended Borderies cognac, with Borderies being the specific sub-region from which the spirit came. Into my second glass, I can’t disagree with the notes offered on the bottle’s own label: Vines in the Borderies get more sun exposure, which deepens the flavor of the grapes. The single-vintage Galtaud has unusually rich fruit with the region’s typical attributes: profound volume with hints of violets and nut kernels.
Galtaud is the single-still distillery, founded in 1800, at which this cognac was produced. This particular bottling is listed as “Lot 1989: Casks 9, 4 & 16.” One of 1600 bottles produced, this is 40.5% alcohol by volume and was bottled in 2008. According to the Maison Surrenne website, the Borderies region is known for its rich soil deposited in years long past by the nearby Charente River.
This is all new to me, but you can certainly taste that richness and depth: Maison Surrenne is delicious stuff. It absolutely smells like violet, toffee (or perhaps nut kernels, a descriptor with which I’m unfamiliar), and even caramel. And on the palate, the floral, violent sensation absolutely hits me over the head. It’s incredibly noticeable, though refined and elegant. The finish is hot, spicy, and alcoholic, but it’s violet again and cocoa nibs that linger for me. There’s a moderate orange/apricot sensation somewhere in there that I can’t quite pinpoint. This isn’t a sweet spirit, but it certainly has a sweetness to it derived from the fruity and nutty qualities. Despite even that, it’s got a long, hot, dry finish full of flowers and alcoholic spice. How can anyone not love such a thing?
Regardless of what wine media-driven adjectives I could possibly ascribe, the bottom line is that this is one classy spirit. For the first time ever, I understand why the stereotypical wealthy baron of cinema asks people to retire to the study for some cognac or other brandy. This is good drinking. Great drinking.
Cognac at this level is, for me, a revelation. Further study is required, and I’ll be working a lot of extra hours to (happily) pay for that self-imposed research.
Quick Tasting Note: Fauterie 07
As much as I love shopping locally for wine at places like Western Market or Elie Wine Company, the reality of life in Michigan is that our three-tier system and distributors often serve as a barrier to new things. In some respects, we have one of the most vibrant food retail scenes in the country — people elsewhere would be thrilled with our assortment of ethnic markets, our farmers’ markets, and our access to all sorts of ingredients within a few minutes drive time of any area of Detroit of the suburbs — but it’s like pulling teeth sometimes to get the best wines, beers, and spirits.
Tonight, I’m drinking a bottle I picked up at New York’s Chambers Street Wine: Domaine de Fauterie’s 2007 Saint Joseph from Les Combaud. Wines from this region have to be predominantly syrah, and that’s fairly evident here from the inky color. Despite the heavy looks, it has some lightness. Initially ripe and fruit forward, there’s a lot of bright acidity on the finish — a very currant-like flavor. The longer it sits, the more evident the tannins and a subtle campfire smoke flavor become. With a case discount, I paid $25 for this bottle, and it’s worth every penny. Delicious but packed with both power and nuance.
(13% abv. Imported by “USA Wine Imports,” a Jeffrey Alpert Selection, who’s also responsible for some delicious Jura wines I’ve had recently.)
A Taste or Two. Or Twenty Four.
Much like the moon, my drinking habits have certain predictable phases. Coffee in the mornings. Tea in the afternoons. Cocktails for a few weeknights, wine for a few weeknights, beer for sports weekends or long nights out around Detroit.
This past week was a wine week. A phase. A big phase.
Starting with an opportunity to eat and drink a bit at Cork Wine Pub with some fellow GU Detroiters — James Cadariu, Steve Kirsch, Michael Lindberg, and Jarred Gild among them — and Louis/Dressner wine rep, Josefa Concannon, this wine phase of mine got off to a delicious start on Wednesday the 30th. Jeffrey Mar at Cork does a nice job rotating wines through on the list, keeping things interesting: We had newer Chablis (09 Seguinot-Bordet), Sancerre, and a couple of reds. It wasn’t the right place or atmosphere for taking notes, so I didn’t really get many, but one of the highlights on which I do have some notes is the 07 Mondeuse from Franck Peillot, which has been a staple of Jeff’s wine list since Cork opened.
2007 Peillot Mondeuse, Bugey, France
Imported by Louis/Dressner
Over email, there was some discussion among the GUD group regarding food and wine prompted in part by an article from Eric Asimov regarding his views on the subject. This wine is a perfect illustration of many of our conversational points: It’s delicious on its own, but there’s something transformative that happens with food. Loaded with mild, prickly tannins, this is bone dry on the finish, and there’s something about the way the tannins give way with food that opens up the bright, fleshy berry flavors and herbal flavors in this wine. This is impossibly dense and flavorful given its low alcohol content. Delicious stuff. Mondeuse is uncommonly seen in the US, but it’s gained a cult following through the efforts of importers like Dressner and places like Cork and Western that sell those wines. I dig.
Thursday, I snagged some carryout from Supino on the way home from work, and Jarred, James, Josefa, and I were joined by Kim and George at Gang of Pour. We drank bits and pieces of more than a dozen bottles, with delicious wines from the Canary Islands courtesy of Western Market and high expectations fulfilled by an older Muscadet and some 2003 Clos Rougeard.
2002 Luneau-Pepin L d’Or Cuvee Medaillee, Muscadet, France
Imported by Louis/Dressner
One of the things that surprises people as they become more interested in wine is that some white wines can age. Even more surprising is that inexpensive whites from regions a lot of people have never heard of can age. Because of the acid, good Muscadet is no different, and this is damn good Muscadet. (Thanks to Kim and George for sharing!) The nose on these wines always seem tight – almost like you’re trying to smell it on a rainy day when only the moisture and humidity really make its way into your nose. Here, its just a stone cold aroma of minerals and maybe a bit of citrus peel. It’s fleeting though. On the palate, this has the weight one would expect from being aged by the winemaker sur lie (i.e., aged on settled yeast and fermentation byproducts). It’s hard to believe this is a 2002 as it’s quite vivid and alive — plenty of citrus, acid, and minerality with a grassy, rainy quality that hangs on the tongue and gets cleaned up by a finish with tons and tons of acid.
2008 Zdjelarevic Grasevina, Slavonija, Croatia
James was kind enough bring to our gathering another of his Eastern European treasures acquired on his trip last year. There’s a long pause after everyone inhales the downright tropical aromas and takes the first sip. Everyone concurs that this wine is unlike just about anything we’ve had before. The nose is overflowing with honey, melon, maybe even mango aromas. It’s more powerful than layered, but it’s nonetheless enticing. On the palate, it initially seemed sweet and kind of boring. The more I drank it, the more I could taste all sorts of fruits and herbs — pear, orange, melon, lemongrass. It doesn’t have a long-lasting, powerful finish of any sort, but this was memorable and unique among wines to which I’ve been exposed in my life.
2007 Catherine & Claude Marechal Bourgogne Rouge
Imported by Louis/Dressner
This producer makes one of the best values in all of wine, and this is it. Locals can find it at Western Market. If you’re a fan of red burgundy, this is the best “everyday” option in the state since it’s so much more nuanced than you’d expect from an inexpensive wine. Raspberry and tart cherry up front and a beautiful, penetrating finish. It’s sexy but focused. Just great stuff.
2009 Bermejo Lanzarote, Canary Islands
Imported by Jose Pastor
There’s a method of fermenting wine known as carbonic maceration. In short, it involves fermenting the sugars while the juice is still inside the grapes rather than having crushed the grapes first. So whole grapes sit and ferment, and the resulting wine tends to be low in tannin and has a strong emphasis on fruit flavor. This particular example smells sweet, as one might expect, and while wines made by this method have never been my personal favorite, this is undoubtedly well made. It’s densely packed with flavors, and while the lack of tannic structure or acid isn’t my thing, it’s impossible not to be impressed with the soft, velvety texture. This is nothing like the plastic fakeness of industrial Beaujolais (as opposed to real Beaujolais, which I love), which commonly undergoes carbonic maceration. This is real wine, and it was another new experience. After all, I’d never had wines from the Canary Islands, and the Listan Negro grape from which this is made is a new thing to me.
2009 Bermejo Lanzarote Rosado, Canary Islands
Imported by Jose Pastor
The same producer and same importer and same retailer brought this delightful rose wine to my table that evening. It pours just a bit orange and reeks of flowers and berries. Fruit dominates the palate with some hints of stone and herbs, but this is fundamentally a dry wine. Most importantly, it is the very definition of quaffable. Fun stuff and perfect for what appears to be the forthcoming warm weather.
Lini “Labrusca” Lambrusco Rosso, Italy
Imported by Domenico Valentino
Prickly and dry, this is crazy good. Berries, herbs, bubbles. It’s not a tense or angry wine, but it strikes me as more serious than the bubbles and label might indicate initially. This has been available in the Detroit market for several months, and it made its unofficial debut at the Home Slice event at Eastern Market last fall. Jarred at Western carries this as well as the white and rose versions, all of which are delicious.
2003 Clos Rougeard, Saumur-Champigny, France
Imported by Louis/Dressner
Josefa, a representative of the importer for this wine, explained that all of these wines spend two years in the barrel and two years in the bottle before being released to the market. I bought this in 2007, 4 years after the vintage date and upon its release, from Putnam Weekley at the old Cloverleaf market. It’s been in the cellar, and it was drinking like a rock star wine that night. This is the type of wine that has led us to absurd tasting notes: It’s SO complex and SO layered that people like me want to describe every crazy flavor in the glass. I’m mellowing, so I’ll avoid a treatise on a single bottle. But in general, this has everything going on: There’s definitely some black fruit here, but it has a much more masculine, animalistic flavor with a perfect, elegant balance of acid, tannin, and fruit. This is what I want out of wines in middle and upper tier price points. One could sit there and smell this for a half hour and then spend all night with this bottle, just loving every minute of it.
After a high degree of interest from the GUD discussion group in an introductory community wine tasting, Jarred and I met with some other folks to (a) discuss how we might put something like that together and (b) drink some more great wines. Among the highlights…
2008 Jean Francois Ganevat Cuvee Julien, Jura, France
Imported by Jeffrey Alpert
This particular wine from Ganevat, purchased from Chambers Street Wine in New York, is exclusively Pinot Noir. With far more minerality and light, playful edginess to it than most burgundy but with more funk and earth than many Jura wines, this does a nice job of bridging those two worlds. Sour cherries, chalk, tannins… it’s all there. Light bodied and really very easy to drink. While it was tasty now, I think the acid, tannin, and fruit are all in such high concentrations that this would last some time in a cellar.
2008 Domaine Montchovet Hautes Cotes de Beaune, Burgundy, France
Imported by Jenny & Francois
Chardonnay is often referred to as the winemaker’s grape since it’s fairly malleable in terms of flavor — it can convey mineral and terroir in a minimalistic winery and it can coat one’s tongue with tropical fruit and vanilla in a New World paradise. But this fits no paradigms, no expectations that anyone could possibly have of white burgundy. All the elements are there, but the sum of those parts is something unique. Citric as though it were some bracing Loire Valley wine, it smells of lemon. And oak is certainly there, but so are peachy, fleshy fruits. Together, it’s a powerful shot of flavor. It’s not something I’d call a drinking, quaffing, cocktail style wine, but it’s interesting and requires your attention. Another wine I suspect you can only/most easily find at Western Market around here…
That’s it. Those are the highlights of the last ten days. In that time, I’ve more than filled my recycling bin with two dozen empties.
What, oh what, will the neighbors think?
You’d Think We Were Drunks
Blogging for Gourmet Underground Detroit has been fairly drink-heavy of late, with Todd, Dave, and I posting mostly cocktail recipes and suggestions for waiting out blizzards using only wit and whiskey. Not a whiff of food-related comments or links to be found anywhere.
Tonight, that changes. But only because I want to mention a wine or two.
Worry not, food lovers. A feature on grass-fed meats is on its way. But in the meantime, snuggle up to your lover with an adult beverage. Perhaps one of those that follow.
Unnamed Tea Cocktail
I discovered a bottle of black tea gin in the back of my cabinet, an infusion that I’d made last year in order to make Dave’s Laura Palmer. Inspired by that drink, I tweaked the proportions seeking to emphasize the bitterness in the tea. In essence, I just swapped out limoncello for Aperol:
1.5 oz black tea infused gin
.75 oz Aperol
.75 oz lemon juice
.25 oz 2:1 simple syrup
I shook this with ice, strained it, and served it up. The lemon and the tea are dominant, but the Aperol adds a nice bitter edge to the end. Matches up nicely with the herbal/tannic quality from the tea, but it’s still refreshing.
Some Weekend Wines
Fellow GUDer Todd Abrams came over on Friday night, and over deeply intellectual discussion (read: drunken and aimless arguing) regarding American poets, he, my wife Susannah, and I drank well — a few cocktails and a couple of great bottles of wine.
Todd brought some Domaine de Roally Viré-Clessé Tradition, which manages to never, ever disappoint. Despite its heritage as a white burgundy (albeit from a lesser known appellation), I always think this has a really pleasant mineral quality to it, no doubt a result of the vines being grown in a limestone-rich area. Roally always explodes on the palate — lemon, toast, fleshy fruits, stone. It’s subtle in its complexity, but there’s nothing subtle about how it lingers and continues to dole out flavor. I’m always happier for having opened a bottle of this.
We also got into a bottle of Paolo Bea’s 2006 San Valentino, brought to us by reliable wine importer Neal Rosenthal. Located in the central Italian region of Umbria, Bea makes some of the best wine I’ve ever had. This bottle in particular is something of a treat since it normally would retail for double what I paid. This particular bottle was rejected by the Italian wine police, who didn’t allow Bea the DOC label because the wine wasn’t deeply enough colored and because it was showing a bit of oxidative brown. He released it as an IGT, and I’ve now plowed through three bottles. This, like the previous two, was excellent. Unlike its “big brother” flagship wine from Bea, this bottling is very soft throughout the whole glass without quite as much tannic power as Bea’s bigger wines. Still, it’s remarkably complex — cherries and red currants, very floral nose, and layers of herbs and spice, something it very much shares in common with the other Bea wines I’ve had. The predominant grape in this wine is Sangiovese, but italso has Sagrantino and Montepulciano. This producer makes wines that can hold themselves up and age for a bit, impossibly layered, but that are also every bit as fun to drink as a ripe, acidic natural wine.
And have fun drinking it, we did.
Dry Vermouth Blind: Another Epic Detroit Tasting
Though dry vermouth is still prized as an aperitif in Europe, the modern American is generally uninformed about this classic aromatized wine. This is largely due to bartenders that allow opened bottles to languish on a warm shelf and quickly oxidize. Many a drinker’s first and only experience with dry vermouth comes in the form of a classic martini that tastes like an alpine bunny took a dump in it. The truth is, when stored in a refrigerator after opening and consumed with purpose, vermouth can be both a quality aperitif and cocktail mixer.
Native to northwest Italy and southern France, vermouth is produced using herbs and other botanicals and then lightly fortified with unaged brandy. Though Antonio Benedetto Carpano was the first to market the aromatized wine he produced in Turin back in 1786, vermouth and its predecessors had been consumed for centuries before that.Typical flavorings include cardamom, cinnamon, marjoram and chamomile along with myriad other herbs, roots and barks. The botanical most associated with vermouth is its namesake, wormwood, otherwise known in Old High German as Wermud.
Both as an effort to find the most quality dry vermouth for our dear readers, as well as an excuse to party, Gourmet Underground assembled a faction of Detroit mixologists and habitual vermouth drinkers for a blind tasting of six brands that are locally available. And because we couldn’t leave it at that, we included two brands a bit more rare, one coveted by cocktail geeks across the country, the other produced only under a full harvest moon by naked virgins in a French alpine mountain stream — or something like that.
The tasters:
Creative mixologist and owner of Detroit Sugar House Bar, Dave Kwiatkowski is relentlessly curious about booze. Though he’s burly enough to crush your skull between his bicep and forearm he’d much rather hand feed premium kibble to his two-and-a-half pound Yorkshire terrier.
A disheveled wine academic with a hedonistic philosophy, Detroit Wine Truck principle Putnam Weekley is capable of eating tabbouleh with his bare hands while sipping a vintage Burgundy out of a Dixie cup and explicating on the soil type of a half hectare vineyard plot in the Pfalz.
Great Lakes Coffee Roasting Company’s green coffee buyer and blender James Cadariu is as fussy about booze as he is coffee beans. He might lavish you with fine food and drink but no matter how good of a friend you are, if he catches you with a cup of caramel drizzled mocha latte, he will cut you with his contempt.
Gourmet Underground Detroit co-founder and talented webmaster Evan Hansen is a bona fide cocktail obsessive (among other things) and his home bar is the envy of all the neighborhood kids. On the surface, he appears to be a gravely serious dude but it was only recently that he stopped dying his hair purple.
Jarred Gild is wine monger and all-purpose gourmet consul at Western Market in Ferndale. Self-proclaimed “gentleman of leisure” he often drinks Cru Beaujolais from a Ball jar and travels with raw, naturally-raised Michigan beef. Do not be afraid if one day you find him frying something in your kitchen, he is generally harmless.
The brands appear in the order that we tasted them though the actual names were not revealed until all brands were tested. Samples were presented slightly chilled, in wine glasses, and poured in portions of approximately one ounce. The ambient humidity was perfect for tasting at 52%. A variety of hand-picked tasting music was playing softly in the background. I was wearing my favorite tasting socks — a sort of bluish-gray dyed wool blend. Everything was in place.
The vermouth:
Boissiere Extra Dry Vermouth, Italy, ~$12/liter
Boissiere has been my house brand vermouth since it showed up on the shelves at Holiday Market a few years ago. It’s versatile. I use it in cocktails, for cooking, and occasionally as an aperitif. Dave Kwiatkowski perceives it to have an initial wave of sweetness. It’s light, citrusy and floral with hints of rose petal and orange flower water. It has a mildly effervescent mouthfeel though it is not carbonated and finishes with just a hint of roasted nuts. Putnam Weekley guesses that it’s Noilly Prat.
Routin Vermouth, France, ~unavailable
A dark golden, Routin has an odd but compelling mix of flavors, cheese rind and old nuts, fresh peaches and apricots but also older fruit or fruit leather. It’s less herbal. James Cadariu mentions something about a similarity to sake. It’s liked by all but there is some question of how well it would work in cocktails given its intense flavor.
Jarred Gild finally shows up about 40 minutes late. Because of his tardiness we were forced to buy the bottle of Noilly Prat that he was charged to bring but we don’t give him too hard of a time, mainly because he’s carrying a bunch of bottles of wine for post-tasting drinking. A discussion about how to drink vermouth ensues. Jarred admits that at one point he was drinking a couple bottles a week with ice and a slice of lemon or orange. James cracks that the appropriate vessel for Jarred would be a Ball jar or tiki cup. We find this funny because it’s true.
Vya Extra Dry Vermouth, California, ~$28/750ml
Vya pours even darker than Routin. Evan Hansen makes the inevitable visual comparison to a urine sample and the not-so-inevitable aroma comparison to honeyed, ripe bananas with a plastic finish. There are shouts of root beer syrup, sun-dried tomatoes, sage and molasses. Dave Kwiatkowski admits that he always thought dry vermouth would taste like this if you gulped it straight from a wine glass. It gets mixed final opinions and later, when the brand is revealed we all agree that we likely wouldn’t pay the higher price for this brand.
Dolin Dry Vermouth de Chambery, France, $18/750ml (mail order)
The most disappointing of the grouping, Dolin gets called out for boozy and perfume-like aromas. It’s clear that at this point in the tasting it is the least favorite. It has more herbs and twigs on the nose, a cleaner finish and less depth than the previous brands.
Jarred Gild feels that it has an aura of cleaning product about it and then waxes poetical on the interconnectedness of Gourmet Underground Detroit that somehow leads to a discussion about crushed velvet suits. Putnam Weekley guesses that it’s Noilly Prat.
Martini and Rossi Dry Vermouth, Italy, ~$7/750ml
Congruent with a sweet vermouth tasting held years ago at the old Cloverleaf in Southfield, this “benchmark” brand is universally disliked. It is called astringent with aromas of ammonia and turpentine and artificial peach. James Cadariu conjures sawdust, asparagus pee and frozen green peas. Everyone is forced to rinse their glass out with water after this sample.
Stock Extra Dry Vermouth, Italy, ~$7/750ml
Mixed reviews for Stock. Though there is a simple balance between citrus and herbs it is quite shallow. Some just plainly do not like it. Putnam Weekley calls it clear, fresh and corporate and then, naturally, guesses that it’s Noilly Prat. At this point in the tasting it is apparent that most people aren’t spitting.
Cinzano Dry Vermouth, Italy, ~$8/750ml
Cinzano is floral, medicinal, furry, not as tart as the majority that we have tasted so far. There’s ginger ale on the nose and a slight hint of wet dog behind it. No one loves it but we all find a pleasant aroma of rosemary.
Dave Kwiatkowski thinks it smells like fish and then ponders the validity of vermouth tasting and possible palate fatigue. “Would we like this more if it were served first?” he asks. Ah, the mysteries of the universe. Anyway, what good is a blog if we can’t pretend to be experts?
Noilly Prat Dry Vermouth, France, ~$9/750ml
You can tell that the quality of vermouth has improved by the amount of chatter that ensues upon our final sample. There is more intensity here, more minerality. Though it smells slighty hot there is also cinnamon and citrus pith. And this brand frankly just drinks easier than the previous five. Putnam Weekley does not guess that it’s Noilly Prat.
For a final measure we mixed four of the vermouth brands into a classic martini with Beefeater gin at a ratio of two parts gin to one part vermouth. There was no negligible difference in quality when these vermouths were mixed with the harder booze. Not surprisingly, shitty vermouth is still shitty vermouth even with some gin added. This leads us to presume that the folks who claim that Martini & Rossi is THE vermouth to make a classic martini are, at the very least, lacking both taste and imagination.
Boissiere, Routin and Noilly Prat were found to be the favorites of most of the tasters, though it is expressed that any one may fair better or worse when mixed into more complicated drinks. The only real surprise came at the expense of Dolin. I can only assume that it is because of its relative rarity, somewhat higher price, and the fact that it is part of the well-regarded Haus Alpenz catalog, that it shows up on the list of many cocktail cognoscenti.
Our recommendation for locally available dry vermouth is Noilly Prat and Boissiere. They are quite different so try them both and find the one that works best for your purposes. As always, keep an open mind about these and any other drinks. As new brands come into the market and old brands are reformulated, you never know what might surprise you.
Wednesday
Wednesdays aren’t for serious drinking. That’s what they tell me, anyhow.
Wednesdays are for watching forensic dramas. They’re for anxiously anticipating Friday. They’re for wanting to beat the crap out of an office mate. They’re for nervous breakdowns, early bedtimes, and doing laundry.
Wonderful, wonderful Wednesdays. Replete with routine.
Enter: a special bottle of wine. Most people pull out a special bottle of wine for a special occasion. But the power of a special bottle can elevate any occasion. That may appear trite and too full of wine snob whimsy for most, but to those who have had a revelatory moment or two with a glass of wine know what I’m talking about. A friend recently quoted the wine blog, Saignée, “Anyone who knows the initial experience of finding a wine that sticks with them knows the feeling of looking down into the glass in amazement that something could taste so good. The pleasure of the moment is impossible to describe to someone who has never experienced it.”
Looking down into the glass can be quite an event. It can be such an event, in fact, that it can make you throw aside your Wednesday laundry plans and clutch your wine stem for hours.
I’d be exagg
erating if I said tonight’s choice was such a rare, ethereal bottle as to qualify as one of my absolute most memorable wine moments. But it has nonetheless lent a bit of excitement to an otherwise indistinguishable Wednesday evening.
We opened a 1999 Chateauneuf-du-Pape from Chateau du Mourre du Tendre for no other reason than I happened to see it lying in a local wine shop and my wife likes Chateauneuf. How could I lose with an unfiltered wine from Peter Weygandt, a generally reputable importer?
Ripe with raspberries and piquant with peppercorn, the aroma gave me the false impression that this was at its peak. It didn’t take more than a sip to see that there was a ton of size and structure to this wine and that it’s got years ahead of it. If anything, I’d worry that the fruit may fade long before the massive tannins. Besides the bracing acid and fruit skin astringency, there’s a lot of earthy, fungal flavor riding underneath the sharper notes. My first thought when I first opened it was that the nose, palate, and red brick color seemed closer to the last Cote-Rotie and the last Cornas I consumed (two weeks and two months ago, respectively) than anything else.
I’m having fun sipping through this bottle. A lot of fun. And now I get to write about it. Who says Wednesdays are only for bad television and household chores? It may take some excess funds, some giving friends, or some good fortune, but repeatedly casting my nose into a glass of wine that’s elegant far beyond its massive size is about as good an evening as I can fathom.
Wonderful, wonderful Wednesdays indeed.
A Trip Down Memory Lane
One of the very few red wines that first grabbed me by my nose and dragged me, not exactly kicking and screaming, into the bottle was a 2002 Cuvee Gravel bourgogne rouge from Catherine and Claude Maréchal. A short while later, the same store which fed my Gravel habit had 2004 Chorey-les-Beaune and Pommard from the same producer, and I really fell in love.
I tucked away a far amount of the 2004s, more than I’d remembered, actually, and tonight I went digging.
A few years later, the Chorey is quite nice. The fruit on the nose is more potent than I remembered, ripe with sweet cherries and a bit of stony minerality, but the fruit on the palate is dying a bit. The finish is dry, a bit musty, and still quite tannic. This is still a pretty, enjoyable wine, but I’m drinking the other bottle I found quite soon.
