Dexter Lake, 2009 Blend - Matthew Rorick Wines, Mendocino, CA.
It's pretty hard to miss the handlebar mustache that looks as if it was a doodle on the label drawn with a Sharpie. In fact, the first few times I saw it on the shelves, while I noticed it, I simply didn't pay it much mind; but a funny thing happened after my first tasting - obsession.
Dark, inky and opaque with a ruby hue, I took a moment to inspect the wine against a white sheet of paper in an effort to see the full spectrum of pink reflection to looming purple. Habitually swirling the glass and paying faint attention to the escaping fragrances, I found my attention pulled from color to nose, as if being beckoned by the unseen under nose curl of a cartoon finger.
On the nose: The first thing you pick up is the unmistakeable purple smell - violets floating high over the motion of the still spinning wine after you've given the glass a twirl. Along with that purple scent, you also get a slight herbaceous note like a blanket of eucalyptus lazily thrown over a bed of bing cherries. But after you've allowed the juice to settle and the aromas time to lift away from the surface - caught in the inward sloping of the glass - what you pick up is definitely a dark, dried fruit scent. Dates come to mind. And then high up top you start to pick up bits of pepper and spice.
The first sip: Sweet, soft and eluding, there's almost a blueberry note that's both refreshing and delicate, but the fresh sweet of the fruit is quickly pushed out of the way by the tannins. They creep in from the back at first, then the front, then the sides as the fruit becomes an essence quickly dissipating into a notes of clove, tobacco and allspice hovering over the tannic action - like watching fireworks from the viewpoint of the sky.
The finish: A hot spice lingers in the back of the palate, quickly dissolving into an afterthought of that dried date smell detected on the nose as it lifts, riding the updraft of your breath like a plume of smoke climbing from a small fire. And then there's the echo making you wonder what you just tasted and searching pictures in your mind for the right flavor descriptor, as the finish holds; holds; holds, then fades away leaving you wanting for another round of the same.
Here's what I can tell you about the blend (and this is my working it out, not a professional opinion, so it may be boring to read): Right off the bat you can pick up the petit verdot ( about 40%) - that's the source of the wonderful purple mist of violet scent, and soft spice that creeps in from the back of the palate. Then there's that deep spice of petite sirah (also about 40%), with it's smoky ripe, dark berry flavors. Both grapes are known for the inky powers of their skins, which is most likely the source of the enchantingly deep purple, opaque color. Now, the third grape in the blend is a bit of a mystery to me. I asked a wholesale wine rep and he told me once that it was tinto fino, and then again later that it was touriga nacional, so I decided to do a little bit of my own homework. After some research I've discovered that a wine shop in chicago seems to think it's alvarelhao (otherwise known as brancellao, an aromatic grape sometimes used to make vino verde). Since the mysterious third grape in this blend seems to have a softer acid, doesn't effect the color, adds fruit and notes of distant leather or tobacco, I'm inclined to put my money down that we're tasting young, tempranillo. (Otherwise known as: tinto fino.)
Pairing:
Dexter Lake is going to be best friends with pork chops thrown on the grill, maybe with a traditional dollop of apple sauce on the side. If bar-b-q sauce is in the mix, bring it. The weight of the meat, the sauces, the char, they're all going to blend perfectly. Don't shy away from grilled chicken either; or a steak - there are plenty of tannins to stand up to a nice cut of beef. On the lighter side, consider roasted beets with goat cheese, drizzled with olive oil and a sprinkle of fresh tarragon; or arugula with crumbles of gorgonzola and lemon zest. If you're considering a picnic, and looking for the right cheese, grab a baguette and pick up a triple cream brie, or a light blue cheese with a small jar of fig spread. Also consider cana de cabra (spanish goat cheese) or bucheron (french goat cheese). And for something to cut the creaminess, grab some tapenade - the salty texture will blend wonderfully with the pepper, spice and fruit of this amazing wine.
Barbazul, 2009 Blend - Huerta de Albala -Tierra De Cadiz, Spain.
If you can't judge a book by its cover, then it should stand to reason that one certainly can't judge a wine by it's label, either. The problem is that labels, like book covers, all seem to be trying to out clever one another and you almost need a guide to point out which ones are great works, and which are simply great graphics.
I've passed this bottle of Barbazul several times, never really giving it much thought. There are so many bottles sometimes that I admit, all too often, I end up picking by the label. There's no harm in it, I suppose. It's what's inside that counts, but more times than not you don't know exactly what's inside until you pony up some cash; thus the label is all you have to work with. The label, or a wine clerk - who might or might not have actually tasted the wine, and might or might not have any idea what he or she is talking about.
When I tried my sip of Barbazul at a chance tasting, I was instantly zoning in on the simple label, depicting what looks like a cave drawing of a horse in red lines against a white background, and I could feel my lips moving as I said silently to myself what is that? I snatched the last bottle off of the shelf and brought it straight home for closer inspection.
Deep and rich in color, this wine is a shade of mysterious purple that I believe is usually reserved for wizards. Opaque and solid looking, it's like the skin of a black plumb has been turned to jello that has yet to set.
On the nose: At first I was getting an odd mineral scent. Sure there's berry and something rich going on, but there was a definite mineral-like sulfuric scent too, mixed with a waft of something vegetative that I couldn't quite place. I had a feeling that it was going to fall away soon enough, and right I was. Let this wine sit for a few moments to relax and get adjusted to you and your glass. After getting to know one another give the wine a good swirl and sit back as it starts to release a bouquet that begins with a soft hint of boysenberry. The berry is quickly enveloped in a note that isn't unlike the scent of a Fig Newton, but then as the dried fruit is pushed down, the vaporous presence of eucalyptus rises to the top of your senses.
The first sip: A zing of wild strawberry with a ginger snap spice rolls across your palate, along with a touch of dried figs and cherries, yet it remains soft and supple like a mouth full of smoky preserves. Velvety and light in your cheeks, it rolls around warming from the heat of your mouth into a full vapor, like steam rising from a still pond on a cool morning as your mouth fills with a simple and delicate dew of flavors. Just when you think you've got it all figured out though, something new happens. It starts on the back of your palate - a gentle sizzling comes to life - fizzing and releasing a delightful cola taste as the tannins activate.
The finish: Hot and spicy - light and weightless - distant, but not long forgotten. The wine falls away leaving behind an easy, softly acidic, tannic dryness that lingers on and on, like the presence of somebody who has recently left a room long before you wanted them to go.
Each of the grapes used in Barbazul are readily present and waiting their turn to shine, a blend of 50% Tintilla de Rota, 35% Syrah, 10% Merlot & 5% Cabernet Sauvignon. The Tintilla de Rota - a grape that goes by several different names depending on where it's being grown - is primarily used to make fortified wines, and that's the source of the dried fruit taste. The rich preserved berry notes are obviously coming from the Syrah, just as the soft and velvety mouth feel is coming from the Merlot and the fizzy tannins from the Cabernet. All these grapes working in total harmony, masterfully blended and aged for five months in French oak - hence the fluttering of smoke.
Pairing:
Ribs are the first thing that come to mind. Bar-B-Q ribs and cool creamy, tangy coleslaw. For vegans, Bar-B-Q seitan will be nice too. It's the texture, and gamy yeastiness rolling around in that saucy spice that will be the key to the flavor match. Also, consider a flat pizza with olive oil, gorgonzola and fresh basil; pork chops on the grill with a dollop of apple sauce; teriyaki chicken; mu-shu pork with plumb sauce, or - and I know this is out there - baked noodle kugel with raisins. With dessert, as odd as it might sound - jelly doughnuts. Also, try chocolate cake with fresh raspberries and spoon of chocolate mousse; butter cookies; strawberry short cake - preferably with fresh berries and real whipped cream.
Gouguenheim, 2009 Merlot - Valle Escondido - Mendoza, Argentina.
The movie Sideways changed the world of wine in two ways: the first being the obvious serge in unquestioning, true-blue fans of Pinot Noir. The second was due to a line from the movie that wasn't in the book, but none-the-less when Paul Giamatti scathingly hissed: "I'm not drinking any fucking Merlot!" the disgust was delivered so persuasively that Merlot became, for most, completely taboo.
When I ask people what kind of wine they're looking for, eight out of ten times they'll say "a really good, cheap Pinot Noir." I usually explain that "good," and "cheap" (under $10) are two words that don't meld well together when it comes to the favored grape. Sure, there are plenty of drinkable Pinot Noirs around the ten dollar mark, but there are some rather impressive bottles for the same price that aren't Pinot Noir - like certain Merlots, for example. "Oh, I don't like Merlot," I'm often told. When I ask why, or what is it that makes Merlot unlikeable? The most common answer is: "I don't know - I just don't like them."
I agree, sometimes Merlot is truly undrinkable. But, I'll tell you this: an American Pinot Noir at around ten bucks, and an American Merlot for about the same price are like identical shadows of two completely different people. They're both one dimensional, soft and dull, with wishy-washy flavors that leave a funky taste in your mouth. However, if you try a producer from another country, sometimes the difference is staggering.
Gouguenheim Merlot, from Argentina, for $11.99 is one of those wines that will make you change everything you think about Merlot.
Color: A crystal clear ruby shade that veers towards garnet, lilting slightly to the purpler side of the gem, fills the inside of my glass with a distant hint of value; as if a jewel had been melted into a bottle, and then poured with the intension of having its carat weight gaged exclusively from its liquid form.
On the nose: Ripe, dark berries and hints of cola meld together in a swirl of floral scents, wandering like spirits with vaporous abilities to vanish, and then whisper at their presence with a tingle that eludes to the idea of earth and smoke. There's certainly a lot going on in the glass, and from the first moment you pull the bouquet through your senses, past your palate and deep into your lungs, you realize that this is no ordinary "fucking merlot."
The first sip: Your mouth is overwhelmed with the rich and sultry flavors of roasted black cherries, smoldering in a cloud of spicy smoke that crackles with black pepper and steamy distant vapors of black current tea. Dark chocolate hovers in the back and blooms into a cherry blossom note that sustains, as if to anticipate a surprise moment about to happen - and then it does. Creeping slowly across the top of your palate tannins start to sprout, like prickly desert brush growing from all that black pepper heat. The tannins quickly thrive and begin to coat the roof of your mouth, but keep in mind that this tannin, much like the movie Sideways, is a light, bitter film whose gravely tackiness is only there to provide structure to the main character. Merlot is a soft grape at heart, and it holds its character by showing a range of depth and emotion, eventually letting its silky mouthfeel shine through.
The finish: Soft and vanishing, the wine doesn't so much finish as much as simply fade to black. As the credits roll you're reminded of all of the great scenes still lingering in your memory as you breathe, leaving you grinning at the unexpected, like the sensations of roasted cherries, and that bitter moment that the tannins came to life. Dark chocolate; cedar; coffee; smoke; scorched fruit, all wrapped in a wonderful film that you want again, and again.
Pairing:
There is just about nothing that this wine wont complement. From turkey with stuffing and cranberries, to peanut butter and jelly. Game meats, curries, or ripe soft cheeses; lentil soup, pasta with red sauce or a burger and fries. Chocolate cake, ice cream of any flavor, or simply fresh fruit or nuts.
Usually, I have some pretty specific ideas of what will pair best, but this Gouguenheim Merlot has the fruit, without it being "jammy." It has the acidity, without it being too astringent or bold. It has a big enough round mouth feel that it can stand up to powerful gamy or funky flavors and spice, but it's soft enough that it wont overpower something as delicate as grilled salmon.
Dare I say: Gouguenheim Merlot is one of the better examples of the proverbial little black dress of the wine world. No home should be without a bottle tucked away, just for the hell of it.
