Three Pinots, One Guy Named Owen

DIRT DINNER. Part Two.

Three wines. Three winemakers. One vineyard (pictured topographically at right).

This experiment is not so much ours as it is theirs -- the "they" being, the generous souls at Felton Road Wines and their co-consipirators from Pyramid Valley Vineyards and Craggy Range. We at the Lab are just the gleeful beneficiaries of the results.

Here's the story as we know it. A fellow named Owen Calvert bought a vineyard. Owen is generally regarded as a really good guy. He and his wife spend most of their time in bleak places providing aid and assistance to people in need; they are UN relief workers. Their vineyard is just across the road from the Felton Road winery, so Owen asked if Felton Road might like to manage the vineyard and use the fruit.

They thought it would be a better idea for Gareth King (Felton Road's aces viticulturist) to manage the vineyard (bio-dynamically) and to let three different winemakers make a wine from fruit branded as coming from the Owen Calvert Vineyard. In that, the vineyard would become a known entity, and when Owen Calvert returned home from his long missions, he might have something of sustainable value at the end of his porch.

So each of the three parti-

cipating wineries gets an allocation of what is essentially the same fruit and from that they make their own expression of what the vineyard has provided.

What better window to Dirt could there be?

The 2006 is the first vintage of this collaboration. And we carefully cellared an example of each wine, patiently waiting for them to blossom.

Then we sold the Lab and decided to drink up.

The Pyramid Valley Vineyard pinot smells of rich cherry fruit and loamy soil. It is elegant, long and linear, revealing in turns cherry, plum and nectarine, then spice, and stones. It has a lithe, almost feminine quality. It caresses the tongue like velvet.

The Felton Road wine offers similar aromas, if with a slightly more pronounced rustic, earthy tone. The fruit seems brighter -- cherry, tart plum and nectarine (could this last orchard fruit be the clue to the vineyard?). This is less delicate, less linear and the cooperage is somewhat more obvious. But it is, like the first, sensuously delicious.

The Craggy Range is also very, very good. It is the least earthy and mineral of the three, but the most fruit forward. There is, alas, no nectarine here -- but I'm not giving up my theory without further tests!

The family resemblance between the three is unmistakable. These wines are like brothers. The Marx Brothers. One obvious and upfront. One a thoughtful crowd-pleaser. And one silent and brooding, taut with mystery.

Are we any closer to our elusive goal? Have we found Dirt? Perhaps. But it's not like terroir drops down from the ceiling and quacks like a duck with the secret word.

To be continued...

Au Revoir Los Angeles

I've been procrastinating this report. A surface scratch of the cover of any pop psychology manual will tell you why. But I'm knuckling down. The wine culture in Hong Kong is rich and interesting and deserves its reportage. However, before I can properly commence our work here in Asia, I must formally conclude the all-important California chapter of the Lab's illustrious history.

As we packed up our gear and shipped much of the Lab's cellars overseas, I did manage to strategically conclude a few key experiments before turning over control to our new Far East ownership.

The Lab's final farewell was a deep search for DIRT. Surely, our favorite experimental past-time.

Brothers Stork, the elder being the General Manager of the Patina Restaurant Group, organized a sensational dinner that we paired with a number of DIRT THEMED wines (list below). We were joined by a few kindred spirits, ex-officio Lab contributors, and even Lou Amdur of Lou (on Vine).

It was an evening of much celebration and some small sadness. Parting is indeed difficult. We don't all get a send-off like Kareem Abdul-Jabbar after all.

So I will tease you with a list. And in subsequent days offer a few, tear-stained notes on the wines.

Champagne

Larmandier-Bernier Brut (non dose) Terre de Vertus 1er Cru, 2004,

and from an adjacent parcel in the same vineyard block on a hillside in Vertus,

Veuve Fourny & Fils Brut Vertus 1er Cru Blanc de Blanc, 2000.

First Course

All from the same vineyard/vintage.

2006 Craggy Range Calvert Vineyard Pinot Noir

2006 Felton Road Calvert Vineyard Pinot Noir

2006 Pyramid Valley Vineyards Calvert Vineyard Pinot Noir

Second Course

All from the same -- though different -- vineyard vintage.

2006 Talley Vineyards Stone Corral Vineyard Pinot Noir

2006 Kynsi Stone Corral Vineyard Pinot Noir

2006 Stephen Ross Stone Corral Vineyard Pinot Noir

Dessert

2003 Chateau d'Yquem

And from (allegedly) the winery across the road,

2003 Chateau Raymond-Lafon

À bientôt mes amis. À bientôt.

Biodynamics is Sexy/Bullshit

I'm far from agnostic on the subject of biodynamics. Regular readers know I drank deeply of the Buried Cow Horns kool-aid (you have to search "biodynamic" if you want to see the full catalog). Our second Lab Report even featured this photo of Rudy Steiner.

Regular visitors also know I have no truck with facile New Age charlatanism (unless I stand to make serious profits from claiming otherwise). We're even on record calling the patron saint of biodynamics an "all around weirdo".

For me, the simple facts are these. I like to buy wine from farmers. And I like to drink wine that says something about when and where it came from (terroir). Biodynamics is a good clue for me about what's in the bottle and how it got there. I'm also aware that biodynamics in practice is fairly fluid and very flexible. Unless practiced incorrectly, it's not a strict orthodoxy. In fact, some adherents don't even include biodynamic on the label (Chidaine, Huet, Pyramid Valley Vineyards, et al). And maybe it's many adherents. After all, how would you know?

There are other facts to consider. I've had some crap biodynamic wine. I've been told that biodynamic treatments include too much copper. I don't know jack about actual agriculture, but throwing a heavy metal around your fields doesn't sound like a super-great idea. And culty "wine" maker Frank Cornelissen told one of the Lab staff recently (Hi Annie!) that biodynamics is still lost in the wrong paradigm because, "It tries to be a cure."

So where do I come out on biodynamics? I find the whole mystical, occultish approach to making alcohol to be very sexy and totally inane.

But what do I know? Maybe giant vortexes from the dark side of the moon do have an impact on phenolic ripening. Maybe magnetic fields do wreck the complexity of intermingling polyphenols. Maybe it's not a coincidence that Druids and Jedi Knights wear the same sorts of cloaks.

But if the wine tastes great, who cares? That's where I am on this. Except I do care about the Jedi/Druid thing.

It is true my brand of studied indifference to all things religious is perhaps unique (you see what I did just there?). It certainly is at Stu Smith's house.

A little context: Stuart Smith is one of two brothers who run Smith-Madrone in St Helena. I think their Riesling is among the best in California; it might even be the best one. They farm steep, hillside vineyards with what seems to be a sustainable approach to viticulture. They make their wines in "artisanal" fashion. In the past, I've even swapped a few emails with Stu and he seems like a charming and interesting guy. I love everything about this producer.

Except this. Stu Smith has started a new blog: Biodynamics is a Hoax. The vitriol is dense. He is seething mad about Rudy Steiner's posthumous success. I mean, he's seriously pissed off about this stuff.

Why does he care?

I have no idea why.

Are we seriously expected to debate this stuff? And what would that look like?

My vortex is bigger than yours. Your magnetic fields suck. I can't fight you because it's a root day.

Come on. Does anyone really care? I don't care. Please join me in not caring.

But whether I care is beside the point. Biodynamics is emerging as a major trend in viticulture. And the wine press, its new media arm in particular, is taking up the cause -- both for and against -- with verve.

So I thought the Lab should do its part and provide a small measure of community education on the topic.

Tomorrow we'll publish a short, reasonable/rational, and yet still passionate defense of biodynamics and all it's wonderful hippy mysticism and occult fantasia. It was written in counterpoint to Stuart Smith's new blog. And I think it's is worth reading.

May the Force be with you.

Look What the (Siamese) Cat Dragged In

Is it more racially insensitive that I find it fun to make puns with colonial-era Asian place names? Or that I use them interchangeably, as if Thailand and China were just one big "Asialand"?

While you form your views on that, I'm happy to report that even before we've officially opened the doors of the Lab's new Ghaungzhou facility, we have welcomed our first visitor.

In town for Altaya Wines "Passion for Pinot 2010" event, Pyramid Valley Winery's Mike Weersing dropped by the Lab's HK executive suites carrying a bottle of the current release of his Earthsmoke Vineyard Pinot Noir, 2008.

The wine is unfiltered, unfined and only modestly sulphured, and so is a light, cherry red and a little, dare I say... murky. The nose is a delicate mix of chalky soil, orange -- blossoms and oil -- a late rush of red fruits and a green note that I would have previously associated with stems.

Mike mentioned that he gets that comment often about this wine, but the truth is they do not press whole cluster, but fastidiously de-stem all the fruit by hand and so press whole fruit. He thinks the aroma may have something to do with the fermentation that starts inside the berry before being crushed.

The wine tastes much like it smells, with sour cherry and currant layered in. It is distinctly linear, taut, and pulsing with a tensile energy.

When I tasted the first vintage from this vineyard, 2006, it reminded me much of the Burgundy made by Michel Lafarge in Volnay. But the more experience I gain with this wine, the more it tastes like itself. I still think the flavor profile and structure is reminiscent of the French counterpart. But the profoundly earthy note that forged the link on my original impression seems, in this bottle, to be less like Lafarge's newly turned soil and more chalky and dry. Perhaps more like Canterbury dirt?

A final note for the big geeks out there (you know who you are): This wine is very high pH. Something like 4.2 (with 3.6-3.8 being "normal"). As part of his evolving non-interventionist philosophy, Mike eschews acidifying his wines now. Preferring to take them as they come, as it were. In spite of the high pH, this wine was fresh, youthful and lively. It offered more than sense of acidity than actual acidity.

Curious to see what this drinks like in five years time.

Moving is a Bitch and some EVOLUTION 4.0

Packing up the Lab was a painful and distracting exercise. And I've clearly fallen behind in my reporting. But I have now landed safely on far eastern shores and hope to catch up while I wait for the Lab's cellars to arrive on their proverbial slow boat.

Amongst other experimental documentation oversights of the past weeks, I have a report from tasting bottle # 4 of our long duration experiment, EVOLUTION/category: white.

(see prior posts here: 1.0, 2.0 & 3.0)

Just to remind you, we're drinking a case of white wine, a bottle at 6 month intervals until we've finished the case. More specifically, we're drinking the much-hyped Pyramid Valley Winery's Lebecca Vineyard Riesling, 2006.

I'll admit that beyond the obvious experimental value, I've just plain enjoyed drinking this wine. What bottle #4 seems to demonstrate is... consistency. The wine doesn't seem to have travelled far from bottle #3. With these last two bottles, the terpenes seem to have faded (wonder if that fancy goût petrol will come back?), giving way to a complex and dense spectrum of citrus smells -- peel, pitch, oil and juice. The palate is nearly identical. Glycerin, lime, nectarine, tangerine, limestone, sea-spray. If anything the wine seems to be finding a greater harmony, wherein the whole seem greater than its parts.

Can't wait for #5.

In Praise of Faraway Friends

I have been long away from the Lab. For that, gentle readers, I offer my sincere apologies. I have been in faraway lands. Called away in the middle of the night by a desperate call. Chinskirin Boktani, one-time intrepid guide and devoted Man Friday, had been injured in a climbing accident.

I made hasty arrangements and left immediately to travel the many miles to be at his side.

As it turns out, he wasn't hurt all that bad. A twisted ankle and a scrape on his knee. But as is usually the case with Boktani, several adventures ensued, and none with any internet access.

I hope to recount some of our escapades in the coming weeks.

In the meantime, I returned home to find in my in-box some well deserved praise for a dear friend of the Lab -- which I will reprint here. The source is Jon Rimmerman, who runs the single most interesting wine mailing-list in the known universe.

Dear Friends,

Let’s get this out of the way:

Pyramid Valley is currently New Zealand’s finest winery.

There are others that produce a single entrant of equal stature (such as Rippon) but no one produces a line-up from A-to-Z like Mike and Claudia Weersing. In fact, few wineries in the world do so. With multiple climates, soil structures, elevations, islands, ferry crossings and general mayhem to deal with on a daily basis, this winery takes us on a high-level tour of New Zealand equaled by no one else.

From Spatlese to Pinot Blanc, to Cabernet Franc to Pinot Noir (not not mention a new Sauternes-like wine that is going to re-define what can be done with Semillon), Pyramid Valley is a serious candidate for the most diverse winery in the world – all while playing at the top register. They expose us to one of the richest landscapes of terroir anyone could hope to imagine and, if “understanding” is your goal with wine, the often limpid and reflective examples delicately placed into bottle by Mike and Claudia will go a long way toward anyone’s study of life, relationships and all things vinous. Circa 2010, the top of the pyramid is in sight and they’ve only just begun.

I’ve waxed poetic on this winery in the past and taken many punches from numerous pundits that accuse me of over-hyping wine that is no better than, say, Felton Road. To you I say phooey. That is missing the point. This is about the people, the places, their dedication to an interconnected system of the world – one that includes an eco-sensitive realization that we are all, indeed, in this together. This is about Mike driving 12 hours in an old old Airstream so he could sleep by the side of Hwy 1 near Blenheim while he sat, watched and waited for each of your grapes to ripen perfectly - precisely as nature intended. This is about an abstinence of chemicals, additions, yeast, intervention or the unwanted hand of man altering the course of vinous events. In the end, this is about your few moments with the Weersings and their children of each vintage. If you ask them, this is about you.

If you met Mike and Claudia everything above would be obvious and endearing at the same time. They care about every detail and let’s just leave it at that. Call them friends, partners in crime, lovers, wanderers – whatever you wish – these are people of life and its reflective direction. These are people many of us wish we could be...

As the young folks at the Lab like to say:

Word.

Something New: Day 2

I've always been curious about the idea that a wine that holds up on the second day is well suited for aging. It is certainly well suited to handle exposure to oxygen for 24 hours. But is this really proof of longevity? Everybody thinks so. But everybody thinks a lot of things that aren't true.

Before you start writing letters, I'm not making any claims for or against here -- unlike the controversy I started by claiming that decanters are just for show which is definitely true, and you can write all the letters you want but the facts won't change) -- I'm just expressing a curiosity on the topic.

It's a tough hypothesis to test rigorously. But regular readers know that rigor isn't actually one of The Lab's strong suits. So we'll test it in our own way.

I figured since I'm watching the evolution of the Pyramid Valley Riesling anyway, I might just add this test to the mix. So last night, I left a single glass worth of wine in the bottle -- which did require a great deal of discipline on my part. No inert gas; no pump. I just capped the bottle and put it back in the fridge.

Twenty-four hours later...

It was still brilliant. No discernible fade. The acidity was crisp and bright. The fruit luscious. If anything the aromatics had improved.

If there's any truth in this notion, this wine should hold up for the duration.

Guess we'll see about that.

And if you do write letters, please be sure to mention the Stelvin closure (screw top) because The Lab is just looking for an excuse to enter into the whole cork controversy as well.

Hello Again

EVOLUTION 3.0.

It's time to check in with our Evolution programme wherein we follow a single wine for the long haul. Today we taste the white category entrant, the 2006 Pyramid Valley Vineyards Lebecca Riesling (and by "we," I mean me, hiding in my office, hoping none of the staff wander in and force me to share.).

The nose first shows subdued petrol notes, followed by lemon oil, citrus pith and something herbal/green (verbena?). In a profound way, the wine tastes just like it smells. The attack is citric acidity with enough energy that you briefly think frizzante? The mid-palate has terpene notes intertwined with apple, nectarine, clover and honey. A limestone finish almost completely eclipses the sweet. With some time in the air, you would swear you can smell the lees in your glass.

This wine seems to have gained some flesh since we last tasted it, as if the orchard fruit were ripening in the bottle. There's still some glycerin but it seems less obvious at this stage. But the structure of the wine seems more forward now, an architecture finding a foundation.

I've always thought this wine had an unexpectedly Mosel quality, like a brilliant counterfeit. But with time the forgery fades and you have to acknowledge the unique artistry that's there in the (new) original.

Real Change

As part of our EVOLUTION study, we tasted the 2006 Pyramid Valley Vineyards Lebecca Riesling six months ago and then again presently.

Given the declared point of the exercise was to chart how a wine evolves over time, I'm pleased to report, we're already seeing some noticeable change.

Unlike 6 months prior when the nose was tight and the wine needed quite a bit of air to show, this is immediately open and expressive on the nose. A fresh, sweet mix of clover honey, apple peel and lime pith. In the mouth, it is less obviously linear, but more dense in every direction than before. The honeyed Gravenstein apple and kiwi fruit is backed by a bright, Mandarin acidity. There's still a briny note on the finish, but it's less obvious, and the minerality has been obscured by sweet.

This is even more like Mosel Riesling than before. Blind, I would have bet the farm on Germany as the source. It would seem that some of the wine's prior uniqueness has been buried in a bit of sweet babyfat. It is still exquisitely balanced, but the nuance of secondary elements has been eclipsed by fruit and glycerin (there is a palpable viscosity in the mouthfeel that built in the glass over time).

I am very interested to see how this goes over the next couple bottles, and it's good enough that I'm already formulating excuses for why I won't need to share with the staff. My hope is that the honeyed fruit retreats, that secondary elements emerge to provide layered and site-specific complexity to this already dense and delicious wine.

If you want to play along at home, K&L Wines has a few bottles of the 2006 left.

Evolution 2.0: Riesling Redux

Hard to believe six months have passed since we began our highly ambitious, long-term research programme (I prefer the pretentiousness of the British spelling) into the EVOLUTION of an individual wine. Regular readers will remember we set out to drink a single wine -- a white and a red -- every six months for a case's duration.

Back in July, we had the first bottle from our case of white, a 2006 Lebecca Riesling from Pyramid Valley Vineyards. It was a spatlese-style Riesling (pre-global warming) with honeyed, green apple fruit and laced with a salty minerality. The full notes are available here.

A brief and furious controversy erupted over whether it was appropriate to lay down a New World Riesling. A reader commented: "I don't know of anyone intentionally ageing NZ riesling in their cellars (German and Austrian are by far the two choices)."

At the Lab we remain true to the original definition of "maverick" (the new definition seems to involve panic, bad decision-making and humiliating loss, so we are definitely referring to the old definition), and we plan to solider on, see what happens when we intentionally age New Zealand Riesling.

Cause we're crazy.

Results from evolution white # 2 up next.

Evolution 1.5: RED

Some of you will remember that this summer we began a bold and innovative long-term study at the Lab. We acquired a case of each of Red Burgundy and New Zealand Riesling. We set out to taste them on a precise schedule, one bottle every six months, to chart their progression over time.

And like Galileo, the Wright Brothers and Rodney Dangerfield before us, we were mocked for the audacity of our vision. A reader informed us:

I can't say I'm agreeing that a $22 NZ Riesling, nor a $22 bottle of red Burg are "serious" and something to seriously age.

I don't know of anyone intentionally ageing (sic) NZ riesling in their cellars (German and Austrian are by far the two choices), and those $22 red Burgs are to be drunk young...they'd sell for more it they were meant for (or could improve with) ageing (sic).

---- Jack, July 15, 2008

We didn't defend ourselves then, nor will now. Because, my friends, I know how to do this...

Wait a second. "I know how to do this?" You didn't think I seriously thought that would work ? Of course, it doesn't. So here's the rationale for our selections.

The white, a 2005 Pyramid Valley Vineyards Lebecca Vineyard Riesling, may be from New Zealand, but it has been heralded as exceptional by legendary Australian wine writer James Halliday (amongst others), who noted (ironically in this context) that the wine has, "the texture of Mosel auslese." It was designed by the winemaker to reflect a pure expression of the Riesling grape and the local terroir. It is certainly built to age, even if it's drinking beautifully now.

The Red is a 2001 J. Confuron-Cotetidot Vosne-Romaneé. My assistant found the current release, the 2005 vintage, on Wine-Searcher for $55. So not only does it qualify as "serious" according to Jack's (somewhat ridiculous) definition. But it also counts as finding a great bargain on a good wine from a minor vintage from a solid producer.

Today we plan open our first bottle of the Red in the Lab. So we will also be testing my value-oriented procurement strategy. But I've always been successful buying producers I respect regardless of the generally perceived quality of the vintage. So it's a test I'm pretty sure I'll pass. Plus, I'll be grading the exam myself.

Evolution 1.0 : One Down Eleven To Go

This is a 2006 Riesling from Pyramid Valley Vineyards in New Zealand. Like all the wines from their Grower Collection, it's a single vineyard wine, in this case "Lebecca Vineyard." It's an Old World style spatlese (which means the grapes were picked late in the harvest) from a New World producer. And in the interest of full disclosure, I know the people who made it. I am an unabashed fan of their wines.

I've tasted this once before, and enjoyed it. You didn't think I was going to commit the Lab to a box of booze for the next 6-10 years without some prior research, did you? (see my prior post) As it turns out, it was better than I remembered.

This arrives on the palate with a luscious, honeyed texture, supporting bright, green apple fruit. There's a coy, almost elusive, minerality. A tantalizing, feminine acidity ties it all up on the finish. The nose was tight at first, yielding only some green fruit, and fading white flower. Then after 20 minutes in the glass, a briny, perfumed scent took over, something that reminds you of climbing on the rocks at high tide. During the same time, the chalky, mineral elements came out of hiding and swirled around the fruit. This is elegantly integrated wine, with great balance and structure.

I'm not at all sad about having to drink 11 more. Next one in early January.

Ted & Kristen Talley import this into the U.S. through their Terra Firma Wine Co. If it's not available in your neighborhood, they might be able to help you out.