Getting Undrunk on Rioja…
Every once in a while, a friend will say something that seems rather ridiculous on the surface but that, well mulled over, opens up whole new perspectives for dealing with a subject.
Gerry Dawes was sitting next to me at Marichu on a Wednesday night. A group of six hardy fellows had managed to knock back fifteen bottles of wine, some of it fine, some of it not, when Gerry said words to the effect of “drinking all these 12.5% older Riojas after having sampled ‘alta expresión,’ gobmonsters that flirt with 16% alcohol, one finds oneself less drunk…”
A novel concept, this: Drinking wine and getting away from inebriation. Of course, in terms of the ability to prove this empirically… Well, I won’t even try. But think about Gerry’s reasoning enough and lightbulbs do go on, guaranteed. You have a number of those high-alcohol, high-extraction, high-new-oak mastodons so adored by leading American “wine critics” and it’s easy to get hazy, to have one’s tongue go gangrenously purple, then uncomfortably numb. And the brain… It tends to turn to a particularly nasty kind of porridge.
Okay, I should rectify something here. That evening we had not had “many,” or “some,” or even “a few” new-wave vinous behemoths. We had only one. But that particular specimen had been so offensive it felt like much more… A palate-maiming atrocity that momentarily put a dark cloud over our festive dinner table; evil swill to ruin a perfectly good moment… Of course, after plunging into that abyss, the only way to go should be up.
Context becomes necessary, no?
A small group of friends had gathered to imbibe Spanish wines and enjoy the wonderful Basque dishes of chef Teresa Barrenechea. As normally happens in these dinners, we found ourselves confronted by too many bottles of wine per head and the certainty of fun to be had.
At table, the aforementioned Mr. Dawes, the genial Dr. K, our distinguished Professor Gilman, Victor Lederer and Jeff Connell. Oh, and me.
We began with a delicious and refreshing Señorío de Sarria, Rosado, “Viñedo nº5,” Navarra, 2002. Bright pink with raspberry and violet glints. Aroma of cherry and guava confection, though the candy vibe blew away with air. Hints of indeterminate spiciness. In the mouth, a clear and direct and easygoing drop of pink with very good length.
Sasha broke our theme very early on. Of course, since no one on the table seemed to be very worried about rules, regulations and other such garbage, we hit the François Cotat, Rosé, Chavignol, Sancerre, 2000 with gusto. Dr. K’s propositions about wanting “to try that wine with Spanish food” seemed abundantly satisfactory to us. Still as funky, smoky, mineral and taut as it was on release. Notes of dried leaves and calcareous rocks, strawberry and peach on a complex and serious nose. Chewy and very nervy. But it can be some fun, given quite a bit of air. Needs plenty of time, still.
Mr. Connell brought us a couple of unsung whites from Spain. A Clavidor, Verdejo, Rueda, 2002 was fresh, herbal and floral, with a thistlelike element to it and a pear-apricot-lemon plushness that makes the nose vaguely reminiscent off Muscat (Victor was the first to call attention to this. A juicy, lovely little wine to drink on a summer night. After the Clavidor came one of the revelations of the night: The Palacio de Fefiñanes, Albariño de Fefiñanes, Rías Baixas, 2001. A pure and very terroir-driven white, with a beautiful stony underlay to its intense fruit, grass and flower aromas. Accents of honey and cardamom, with plenty of fleshy fruit (golden apple, melon, lemon) in the mouth. Great extract, finesse and length. A wine of which I shall go out and buy a substantial quantity. At $12, it’s one of the most outstanding bargains in the market right now. And it will age very nicely, I think.
Our lineup of reds was headed by two young wines. The first was a Traslanzas, Tinto, Cigales, 2000. Cigales is an area not far from Valladolid that used to be “famous” for its pink wines. But, to be truthful, I never found those pinks to be in any way remarkable. I had a girlfriend in Valladolid. Her family would do a big paella campera in their yard on summer Sundays. I would be sent out to a Cigales coop to get a five-gallon bottle filled with the current pink. The bottle would be place on a cooler much like the ones that live in so many offices of the world, so the wine would come out nice and cool.
Anyway, Cigales has started to produce some nice reds in recent years and is inching its way toward becoming a “serious wine” joint. The Traslanzas had a candied, fun nose with just a bit too much new wood. It’s not enough to ruin the wine, but most of us wished it had not been there. A cutesy, clean, berry-cherry quaff with decent length and chewy tannins. Unfortunately, Mr. Connell informed us that the retail price of this is a very ludicrous $34… What are they thinking?
It had been a pretty decent beginning for our dinner, with no major objections in terms of wine and food. But then came the Numanthia, “Termes,” Toro, 1999, with a pong so alcoholically hot that I had some serious reservations about continuing to sniff it, let alone put the stuff into my body. A boozy, woody and unforgivably vulgar wine with way too much of everything. A mouth anaesthitic, with an aftereffect (notice I can’t bring myself to use the word “aftertaste” here) very like the cheapest tequila. Do people actually covet this kind of horror? Apparently, it carries some sort of vote of confidence from several wine gurus and the name of the bodega often comes up in conversations with Spanish friends.
A few glasses of water later, still with my eyes moist, I was heartened by the appearance of a couple of fine Riojas. The first was a CVNE, “Viña Imperial” Gran Reserva, Rioja, 1987, which had an aroma remarkably similar to a fine older Saint-Estèphe. Bacon, spices, licorice, dried flowers, China ink, claym cranberries and plums. Very smooth and elegant in the mouth and at a very good moment. The finish is rather delicate, almost ethereal, but very expressive. A lovely wine from a dodgy vintage.
Next came the La Rioja Alta, “904” Gran Reserva, Rioja, 1987, which exhibited a strong aroma of toasted coconut most of us have grown to think of as the trademark of this bodega. At first, the nose was not very attractive, with the coconut, some basil, tobacco, tea and berries. But with air the whole thing integrated very nicely, becoming rather Burgundian, with aromas of wild flowers, mushrooms, leather, honey and forest fruits. The most surprising thing about this 904 was how well it paired with Marichu’s outstanding gambas al ajillo.
My contribution to the festivities was of two bottles of Contino, Reserva, Rioja from 1982 and 1981. I had tried the delicious 1976 a couple of months before and gotten great references about the 1982 from Jesús Madrazo, Contino’s current winemaker. When this pair was offered to me by a local merchant, I went for them without hesitation.
The 1982 was, almost shockingly, the lighter wine of the two. Aromas of rosemary, smoked ham, red licorice, incense, char, clay and blackberries. Ripe and forward, but the ‘82 lacked substance on the palate and was somewhat uninteresting of finish.
The 1981, on the other hand, had a beautiful nose of dried roses, quince, redcurrants, caramel and earth. Smooth and distinguished, with abundant red fruit in the mouth. Long finish, with velvety tannins and forest floor accents. A delicious match for Marichu’s pimientos del piquillo rellenos de bacalao.
The Continos were followed by the R. López de Heredia, “Viña Tondonia” Gran Reserva, Rioja 1985. This is their upcoming release and felt way too young at our table, wanting no truck with us. Quite shut-in, but from what it was saying, it seemed to me very much like the lovely ’73 when it was that young. This will be a very perfumed and focused Tondonia, eventually…
One can never have too much Tondonia, especially when the amazing arroz negro from Marichu turns up on the table (aioli on the side…). There appeared the R. López de Heredia, “Viña Tondonia” Gran Reserva, Rioja 1978, a wine that is always elegant and light on its feet. Leather, lilac, cranberry, guava, ash and plums on nose and mouth. Tightly wound, with bright acidity and tannins, this one needs more time in the cellar.
Another old favorite: The Muga, “Prado Enea” Gran Reserva, Rioja, 1973 showed wonderfully. A big and bold wine, precise of aromas and flavors.
Gerry Dawes was sitting next to me at Marichu on a Wednesday night. A group of six hardy fellows had managed to knock back fifteen bottles of wine, some of it fine, some of it not, when Gerry said words to the effect of “drinking all these 12.5% older Riojas after having sampled ‘alta expresión,’ gobmonsters that flirt with 16% alcohol, one finds oneself less drunk…”
A novel concept, this: Drinking wine and getting away from inebriation. Of course, in terms of the ability to prove this empirically… Well, I won’t even try. But think about Gerry’s reasoning enough and lightbulbs do go on, guaranteed. You have a number of those high-alcohol, high-extraction, high-new-oak mastodons so adored by leading American “wine critics” and it’s easy to get hazy, to have one’s tongue go gangrenously purple, then uncomfortably numb. And the brain… It tends to turn to a particularly nasty kind of porridge.
Okay, I should rectify something here. That evening we had not had “many,” or “some,” or even “a few” new-wave vinous behemoths. We had only one. But that particular specimen had been so offensive it felt like much more… A palate-maiming atrocity that momentarily put a dark cloud over our festive dinner table; evil swill to ruin a perfectly good moment… Of course, after plunging into that abyss, the only way to go should be up.
Context becomes necessary, no?
A small group of friends had gathered to imbibe Spanish wines and enjoy the wonderful Basque dishes of chef Teresa Barrenechea. As normally happens in these dinners, we found ourselves confronted by too many bottles of wine per head and the certainty of fun to be had.
At table, the aforementioned Mr. Dawes, the genial Dr. K, our distinguished Professor Gilman, Victor Lederer and Jeff Connell. Oh, and me.
We began with a delicious and refreshing Señorío de Sarria, Rosado, “Viñedo nº5,” Navarra, 2002. Bright pink with raspberry and violet glints. Aroma of cherry and guava confection, though the candy vibe blew away with air. Hints of indeterminate spiciness. In the mouth, a clear and direct and easygoing drop of pink with very good length.
Sasha broke our theme very early on. Of course, since no one on the table seemed to be very worried about rules, regulations and other such garbage, we hit the François Cotat, Rosé, Chavignol, Sancerre, 2000 with gusto. Dr. K’s propositions about wanting “to try that wine with Spanish food” seemed abundantly satisfactory to us. Still as funky, smoky, mineral and taut as it was on release. Notes of dried leaves and calcareous rocks, strawberry and peach on a complex and serious nose. Chewy and very nervy. But it can be some fun, given quite a bit of air. Needs plenty of time, still.
Mr. Connell brought us a couple of unsung whites from Spain. A Clavidor, Verdejo, Rueda, 2002 was fresh, herbal and floral, with a thistlelike element to it and a pear-apricot-lemon plushness that makes the nose vaguely reminiscent off Muscat (Victor was the first to call attention to this. A juicy, lovely little wine to drink on a summer night. After the Clavidor came one of the revelations of the night: The Palacio de Fefiñanes, Albariño de Fefiñanes, Rías Baixas, 2001. A pure and very terroir-driven white, with a beautiful stony underlay to its intense fruit, grass and flower aromas. Accents of honey and cardamom, with plenty of fleshy fruit (golden apple, melon, lemon) in the mouth. Great extract, finesse and length. A wine of which I shall go out and buy a substantial quantity. At $12, it’s one of the most outstanding bargains in the market right now. And it will age very nicely, I think.
Our lineup of reds was headed by two young wines. The first was a Traslanzas, Tinto, Cigales, 2000. Cigales is an area not far from Valladolid that used to be “famous” for its pink wines. But, to be truthful, I never found those pinks to be in any way remarkable. I had a girlfriend in Valladolid. Her family would do a big paella campera in their yard on summer Sundays. I would be sent out to a Cigales coop to get a five-gallon bottle filled with the current pink. The bottle would be place on a cooler much like the ones that live in so many offices of the world, so the wine would come out nice and cool.
Anyway, Cigales has started to produce some nice reds in recent years and is inching its way toward becoming a “serious wine” joint. The Traslanzas had a candied, fun nose with just a bit too much new wood. It’s not enough to ruin the wine, but most of us wished it had not been there. A cutesy, clean, berry-cherry quaff with decent length and chewy tannins. Unfortunately, Mr. Connell informed us that the retail price of this is a very ludicrous $34… What are they thinking?
It had been a pretty decent beginning for our dinner, with no major objections in terms of wine and food. But then came the Numanthia, “Termes,” Toro, 1999, with a pong so alcoholically hot that I had some serious reservations about continuing to sniff it, let alone put the stuff into my body. A boozy, woody and unforgivably vulgar wine with way too much of everything. A mouth anaesthitic, with an aftereffect (notice I can’t bring myself to use the word “aftertaste” here) very like the cheapest tequila. Do people actually covet this kind of horror? Apparently, it carries some sort of vote of confidence from several wine gurus and the name of the bodega often comes up in conversations with Spanish friends.
A few glasses of water later, still with my eyes moist, I was heartened by the appearance of a couple of fine Riojas. The first was a CVNE, “Viña Imperial” Gran Reserva, Rioja, 1987, which had an aroma remarkably similar to a fine older Saint-Estèphe. Bacon, spices, licorice, dried flowers, China ink, claym cranberries and plums. Very smooth and elegant in the mouth and at a very good moment. The finish is rather delicate, almost ethereal, but very expressive. A lovely wine from a dodgy vintage.
Next came the La Rioja Alta, “904” Gran Reserva, Rioja, 1987, which exhibited a strong aroma of toasted coconut most of us have grown to think of as the trademark of this bodega. At first, the nose was not very attractive, with the coconut, some basil, tobacco, tea and berries. But with air the whole thing integrated very nicely, becoming rather Burgundian, with aromas of wild flowers, mushrooms, leather, honey and forest fruits. The most surprising thing about this 904 was how well it paired with Marichu’s outstanding gambas al ajillo.
My contribution to the festivities was of two bottles of Contino, Reserva, Rioja from 1982 and 1981. I had tried the delicious 1976 a couple of months before and gotten great references about the 1982 from Jesús Madrazo, Contino’s current winemaker. When this pair was offered to me by a local merchant, I went for them without hesitation.
The 1982 was, almost shockingly, the lighter wine of the two. Aromas of rosemary, smoked ham, red licorice, incense, char, clay and blackberries. Ripe and forward, but the ‘82 lacked substance on the palate and was somewhat uninteresting of finish.
The 1981, on the other hand, had a beautiful nose of dried roses, quince, redcurrants, caramel and earth. Smooth and distinguished, with abundant red fruit in the mouth. Long finish, with velvety tannins and forest floor accents. A delicious match for Marichu’s pimientos del piquillo rellenos de bacalao.
The Continos were followed by the R. López de Heredia, “Viña Tondonia” Gran Reserva, Rioja 1985. This is their upcoming release and felt way too young at our table, wanting no truck with us. Quite shut-in, but from what it was saying, it seemed to me very much like the lovely ’73 when it was that young. This will be a very perfumed and focused Tondonia, eventually…
One can never have too much Tondonia, especially when the amazing arroz negro from Marichu turns up on the table (aioli on the side…). There appeared the R. López de Heredia, “Viña Tondonia” Gran Reserva, Rioja 1978, a wine that is always elegant and light on its feet. Leather, lilac, cranberry, guava, ash and plums on nose and mouth. Tightly wound, with bright acidity and tannins, this one needs more time in the cellar.
Another old favorite: The Muga, “Prado Enea” Gran Reserva, Rioja, 1973 showed wonderfully. A big and bold wine, precise of aromas and flavors.