Dave McIntyre's WineLine

From A-List to Riffraff in 12 Hours at Vinexpo

One very important aspect of Vinexpo is the industry's effort to flatter the press. On Sunday evening, the Conseil des Grands Crus Classés en 1855 Médoc et Sauternes hosted a black-tie dinner at Château Lafite-Rothschild in honor of the international press attending Vinexpo. Lafite is one of five chateaux ranked as “first growths,” literally the peak of the pinnacle. About 300 guests – press and winemakers – strolled about the lawn sipping on champagne or sauternes and slurping oysters or devouring foie gras. (“Where is that itinerant mi-cuit vendor?” one peckish British publisher moaned.) A gong summoned us to dinner, and we filed solemnly through two barrel rooms, with candles atop the barrels lighting the way. I felt we should be carrying candles ourselves, for it had the air of a religious procession.

Dinner was served in the main barrel room. It was my good fortune to be seated with wine royalty: Two seats to my left was Baron Eric de Rothschild, owner of Lafite; between us was Decanter’s Sarah Kemp (wine writing royalty, resplendent in red hair and British accent). On my right was Baroness Philippine de Rothschild, owner of Château Mouton-Rothschild. At age 75, the baroness is a hoot, and sharp as a tack. She constantly regaled those around her in French and English, while everyone nodded somewhat sycophantically. (As did I, as the evening wore on and I fell increasingly under her charm.) Every now and then, she would turn to me and command loudly, “Tell me about Obama!”

The food was superb, of course, and our table enjoyed a taste-off of Lafite and Mouton, from the 2001 and 1989 vintages, followed by 1978 Lafite poured from jeroboams (jeroboa?). The last wine was magnificently fresh and vibrant, especially considering it was made the year after I graduated high school and has aged much more gracefully than I. Of course, the wine had never left that cellar until I flushed it down the men's room pipes.

As we rose to leave sometime after midnight, the Baroness extended an invitation. “Monsieur Dahveed,” she said. “Please come by and see me at Vinexpo tomorrow! Taste our wines – have lunch with us!”

I said I would. And so I did. Or at least I tried.

The next day I was in the Douro Valley – actually, the Douro alley in Hall 1 at the Parc des Expositions. Just before noon I excused myself and walked outside the hall on the lake side, where several pavilions were erected en plein air for tasting and dining. I walked up to the Baron Philippe de Rothschild pavilion and was greeted by an officious young woman in a white airplane stewardess uniform.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked, looking askance at my wine writer’s attire – an all-American blazer over a polo shirt and khaki pants.

“Um, no, but the Baroness said - “ I stammered, trying to make sure she saw my badge with “The Washington Post” prominently displayed. I mentioned meeting the Baroness at Château Lafite, but the woman probably thought I'd gotten my Rothschilds all mixed up.

“Perhaps if you give me your card, I will see if someone is available.” I gave her my card (which, according to Post policy, does not mention my affiliation with the paper), and she came back a few minutes later.

“Je suis desolée,” she said. “Perhaps if you come back some time after 3 p.m., someone might be able to meet with you.”

So I went back to the Douro for some more Portuguese hospitality.

Post Scriptum, July 3: I returned home to Maryland last night and turned on my cell phone to check for any messages during my trip. (I'm a cell-phone Luddite, in that I still have one of those antiquated American ones that won't work overseas.) The first was from Baroness Philippine, chiding me for not showing up for lunch on Monday when she had been expecting me. A wonderful opportunity lost, all for want of a GSM mobile phone. Now it seems like a worthy investment. From A-List to Riff-Raff, to Chump.

Visual Terroir

Sometimes a  photo doesn’t need to show grapes, vines, barrels or bottles to illustrate wine. While researching a column on the dry wines of the Douro Valley in Portugal, I came across this photo I took last July at Quinta do Noval. Something in the geometry of this staircase attracted me when I snapped the pic, but looking at it now, I see Douro terroir – the schist stones blasted out of the terraced vineyards and layered here speak of the mineral soil in which the vines grow, while the narrow stairs up the steep wall illustrate the dramatic slopes on which the vines are planted. And nary a grape in sight.

Sir Josh

I had the pleasure the other night of attending a dinner at the Portuguese embassy residence, hosted by Ambassador João de Vallera in honor of Joshua Greene, founder and editor of Wine & Spirits magazine. Josh was being presented with the Order of Merit – Agricultural Knight, presumably because his magazine has given considerable favorable coverage to Portuguese wines. In fact, Ambassador de Vallera credited all wine writers for contributing to the success of Portuguese wines. He said Portuguese wine imports to the United States grew 14% last year despite – or perhaps because of – the economy.

I don’t claim any credit for that, but I can understand it. Portuguese wines offer tremendous value. The wines we enjoyed at the embassy were (mostly) quite pricey, for Portugal is pushing the envelope on price as well as quality for its table wines. And Portuguese winemakers are not immune to the conceit that afflicts winemakers everywhere – that they should make big, oaky, alcoholic wines that adhere to some international ideal rather than producing individualistic expressions of national terroir and grape varieties.

That said, Greene, who chose the wines, did start the evening with a stunning bargain – a crisp, refreshing and intriguing vinho verde from northern Portugal produced by Aveleda. It retails for about $9.

Ambassador de Vallera commented on the wine as he presented the Order of Merit, a beautiful medal on a green and white ribbon.

“It is not on purpose that I confer a decoration that is green to a gentleman called Greene on Saint Patrick’s Day, while drinking vinho verde,” he said.

Congratulations, Sir Josh!

Virginia Wines - World Class

Can Virginia wines stand tall among some of the best wines in the world? Undeniably yes, if the results of an in-depth tasting I attended on February 27 are any indication.

The occasion was the second annual Virginia Wine Expo, held this weekend in Richmond. The tasting was conducted by Bartholomew Broadbent, wine importer and head of Broadbent Selections, scion of Michael Broadbent, and resident since early last year of Richmond. Broadbent presented six pairs of wines, each matching a Virginia example against an imported wine that had been highly rated by leading wine magazines. The tasting, attended by about 100 people, mostly in the trade, was conducted “semi-blind” – meaning, the list had been posted on the Expo’s Web site (where I had seen it), and the bottles were on display on the dais. But we did not know which wine was which, and we were guess the grape varieties and which one of each pair was from Virginia.

In each pair except one, it was pretty easy to tell which wine came from Virginia. (Or, perhaps I should say I was lucky six times out of six – the show of hands was not always consistent.) The difficult pair, the Bordeaux blend from 2001, was tricky because the first wine was tired and past its prime, while the second was still youthful and lively. The easy tendency – even the winemakers in the room – was to assume the Virginia wine had not held up over time. And of course that was wrong.

Here are my notes from the tasting, in the order tasted. The imported wines are all from Broadbent Selections, which obviously simplified the organizational aspects. Pretty gutsy, though, to subject one’s own portfolio to such competition in front of so many people rooting for the home team. Broadbent selected the Virginia wines with the help of Richard Leahy, east coast editor of Vineyard & Winery Management magazine.

Linden Vineyards “Avenius” Sauvignon Blanc 2007, paired with Spy Valley Sauvignon Blanc 2008. It was easy to tell which was the local here, if only because the Spy Valley’s aggressive grassy and passion fruit aromas shouted its New Zealand origins. The Linden had some grassy notes and a hint of spice; it was rounder and fuller than the Spy Valley, with some creamy mango tango juicy loosey going on.

“The Spy Valley has classic New Zealand acidity, while the Virginia wine has more complexity,” Broadbent said. “Both are high-quality wines.”

Rockbridge Vineyards DeChiel Reserve Riesling 2006 and Louis Guntrum Riesling (Yellow Label) Spätlese 2006. Virginia is not noted for its Riesling, but the DeChiel Reserve was charming for its bright fruit and appealing acidity. It was the clear crowd favorite, but primarily because many in the audience disliked the classic “petrol” minerality of the Guntrum, which hails from Germany’s Rheinhessen region. Broadbent said he picked this particular German contender because it was the same price as the DeChiel (about $18).

Warwick Estate Cabernet Franc 2006 from South Africa, paired with Michael Shaps Cabernet Franc 2007. I was sitting next to Michael Shaps at the tasting, and when we reached this pair he started bouncing on his chair like a giddy schoolboy who knows the answer to a pop quiz. So there was no way I’d vote for the first one. But I wouldn’t have anyway – the Warwick Estate had too much bandaid flavor to it, and I found it rather unappealing. (From crowd comments, others seemed to like it better than I.) The Shaps wine was simply gorgeous – concentrated, ripe and lively, superb fruit from a superb vintage that received superb handling in the winery. After tasting several dozen Virginia wines at the Expo later that evening, a friend and I both said as we left, “Shaps – the wine of the tasting.”

Barren Ridge Touriga Nacional 2007 from Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley, paired with Quinta do Crasto Touriga Nacional 2006 from the Douro Valley in Portugal. There was no doubt which was which here, as the Crasto was simply sublime – it featured all the leafy tobacco and fennel aromas of the Douro, with amazing complexity. The Barren Ridge was simpler, with bright fruit and a surprising exuberance for Virginia. It was a delicious eye-opener, especially when Broadbent mentioned the prices - $18 for the Barren Ridge, compared to $75 for the Quinta do Crasto. (Another, less expensive Touriga from Crasto was ranked #3 in Wine Spectator’s Top 100 ranking for 2008.

Warwick Estate “Reserve”2001 from South Africa, with Barboursville Vineyard “Octagon” 2001. This was the tricky one. I had tasted the 2001 Octagon about a year and a half ago, and I was confident that it would not have turned brick red and tired so quickly. Winemaker Luca Paschina was in the audience, and he seemed nervously confident as some crowd chatter clearly considered the first wine the Virginian. But the Octagon was quite lively, even picking up an attractive note of orange peel and clove.

“The Barboursville Octagon is classic Bordeaux in Virginia,” Broadbent said. “I rank this wine as good as you get in Virginia.”

Paschina was quick to spread the praise. “There are other Bordeaux blends to come from Virginia,” he said. “What it takes is having vineyards with enough age and knowing what works well in each one.”

Chateau Guiraud Sauternes 2005 paired with Veritas Vineyard “Kenmar” 2007. Again, it was obvious which wine was Virginian, as the Veritas featured perfumey floral aromas typical of Traminette. The Guiraud, #4 in Wine Spectator’s  ranking last year, was rich with botrytis and crème brulée notes.

Broadbent stressed that the tasting was not meant to be a competition, but rather an exhibition of how some of Virginia’s best wines stand tall among the best wines from around the world.

Quod erat demonstrandum.

Are You Drinking Your LBVs?

Port brings to mind stuffy old geezers in smoking jackets who "repair to the library" after dinner to puff on cigars, discuss affairs of state (in speech rife with "I say!" and "Hear, hear!"), toast Baron James Forrester and share dim, slightly fictional memories of vintages long past.

Which is to say, port isn't hip.

Well, it should be. Port, the fortified sweet wine from the Douro Valley of northern Portugal, comes in nearly as many styles and variations as Manolo Blahnik shoes, and it is just as versatile in matching outfits -- or in this case, desserts. With Valentine's Day approaching, it's time to move port from the dusty library to the racy boudoir because of its special affinity for that most romantic of foods, chocolate.

You can read more about Port – especially Late Bottled Vintage Ports and the fantastic 2003 vintage now available – in my wine column in today’s Washington Post.