Dave McIntyre's WineLine

Montirius Côtes du Rhône 2007

Montirius hits the stony, mineral side of Rhône wines. It is tight and focused, delicious and very much alive. Increasingly I find myself saying “focused” and “lively” about wines that impress me. This one impresses me. I won’t recite a recipe list of ingredients you may or may not taste. But I will tell you that this biodynamic producer uses no oak – these wines, and there are fine Gigondas and Vacqueyras as well, are all from the vineyard, not the forest.

Montirius is imported by Vintage ‘59 Imports LLC of Washington, DC. The wines are apparently marketed under different labels in France.

Bad Mood, Continued

Tasted more American syrahs tonight. I really want to like these wines, but at the very best I find them …. meh. I opened four, then three more. Some nice herbal aromas from a Sonoma entrant, but it was still syrupy. A Santa Barbara County wine clocked in at a surprisingly modest 13% alcohol – it even had aromas! Its body was lighter, more balanced, and there was a hint of … something positive on the palate. Nice, not exciting. And still not particularly interesting.

For dinner, we had this simple braised dish my Taiwanese mother-in-law makes. It’s the cheapest cut of beef – from the back of the leg – and is ribboned with gristle. She braises it for hours in red wine (a reject from my last column, most likely), ginger, soy sauce and star anise. The meat ends up succulent and tender, the gristle very visible but pure gelatin and very easy to eat. It seemed a perfect dish for syrah.

So I went downstairs and found a Salice Salentino, from Cantele, 2003 (Vias Imports). It was delightful – bright spicy fruit, light body, lots of life, unlike those leaden US syrahs.

After dinner we tasted the syrahs again. A few of them were a tad more aromatic, more balanced, having wakened and stretched their limbs. Still, it wasn’t what we were looking for.

So I went to my cellar and pulled out a bottle of Crozes-Hermitage I’d purchased for $18 a few years ago from a trusted retailer.  I think he said. “That’s fantastic, and those are my last two bottles!” It was a 2003, from an importer I know and respect. So I bought them. We opened it with anticipation, expecting it to blow the American pretenders out of the competition.

I poured. I swirled. I sniffed, expecting to smell smoked bacon, earth and leaves, classic aromas of a northern Rhone syrah. The wine smelled …. like low tide. Clams. Sea water. Putrid seaweed. I swirled again, with vigor. Some herbs? A hint of meat? A taste. It was okay, but nothing to swoon over, nothing to spend $18 on either.

I willed that Crozes to be good. But after a few minutes the marine qualities were simply overwhelming. Was this a really crappy wine, or is it just going through its awkward teen years, shedding the adorable baby fat of its youth, but not yet overcoming its acne to reach its full potential as an adult?

And if I’m to be that charitable to the Crozes, what of those American wines? Perhaps I can’t recognize potential? Or are they truly mediocre wines?

Maybe I’ll never know. But these wines have had an unusual effect on me. I want to go to bed early.

Domaine Brusset "Les Travers" 2006 $20

From Cairanne, in the Côtes du Rhône-Villages, this wine is dark and dense, with earthy hints of the garrigue – that wonderful word wine lovers love because we can pronouce it. And because we can define it -  garrigue smacks of lavender, violets, thyme, rosemary and sage, the scrub of Provence as it is scratched into the air by the mistral  blowing down the Rhône from the Alps. This wine requires coaxing – through a few hours breathing or 3-4 years rest in your cellar – before it can be convinced to show its true character, but it is worth the effort, and the wait.

Imported by Simon N Cellars of Charlottesville, Virginia. Reviewed in my January 14 column in The Washington Post.

Domaine Le Grand Ribe 2007 Côtes du Rhône $12

This organic wine, certified by Ecocert (the European Union’s organic watchdog agency), offers gorgeous aromas of lavender, herbes de provence, violets and stones, as if someone ground up the famous stones of Chateauneuf-du-Papes in a blender and filtered the wine through them. Earthy as it is, the wine has enough acidity to be refreshing. It gets better with every sip and will reward 2-3 years aging or decanting a couple hours in advance of dinner. It's a terrific value.

Imported and distributed by Monsieur Touton Selections. Reviewed in my Washington Post column of January 14, 2009.

Le Paradou – A Taste of Provencal Paradise

Perhaps it was my inner Peter Mayle and a not-so-subconscious desire to live in the south of France, but in my early stages of vinophilia the wines of the southern Rhone region seemed exceptionally enticing. They fit my budget and fueled my aspirations to travel through the prism of my wine glass. They made it easy to understand the concept of “terroir,” a French term of no precise translation that reflects a wine’s ability to express a sense of time and place.

At their best, wines from the Southern Rhone combine the three basic food groups of animal, vegetable and mineral. Minerality comes from the stony soils of most vineyards, swept clean by the fierce winds of the mistral as it roars down the Rhone Valley at various times throughout the year and trains vines at impossible angles.

Syrah contributes smoky bacon aromas, while Mourvedre  adds sensuous animalistic hints of leather and musk. Grenache, the main grape of most southern Rhone blends, offers floral and herbal notes of violets, lavender, thyme, sage and rosemary. Wine lovers call this character “garrigue,” a word we like to use because we can pronounce it and for its power to conjure the colorful countryside and market towns of Provence.

Someone asked me today what I meant by garrigue. He wondered if Syrah from the Columbia Valley in Washington might express the same enticing character. I responded somewhat diffidently that the garrigue is an expression of Grenache in southern Rhone wines as much as Syrah.

But the question lingered in my mind just as the garrigue can linger on my palate. Garrigue is not an expression of a grape, but of a place. Perhaps to understand the idea, you need to have been to Provence and smelled the thyme, the rosemary, the fennel and sage,  and the dust of the mountains. You need to have licked the sweat off your lips while hiking up the spiral streets of a hillside village to watch old men playing pétanque in the town plaza, and then contemplated the excruciatingly delicious choice of cool sanctuary in the old stone church or the refreshing conviviality of the streetside café and a pichet of the local rosé.

Hopefully, you chose both.

Le Paradou 2007 ($13), a Grenache-Syrah blend from the Côtes du Luberon, a rugged, mountainous area east of Avignon where Haute Provence stretches toward the Cote d’Azur, is beautifully floral, like a spring breeze wafting through an herb garden in bloom. The wine has enough body and tannin to bring these aromas down to earth, but it still might transport you to the south of France.

Le Paradou is imported by Jon David Headrick Selections, of Asheville, N.C. It is distributed in Washington, D.C., and Northern Virginia by Michael Downey Selections.

Most of this post is excerpted from my January 14 Wine column in The Washington Post.

Domaine Saint Gayan Côtes-du-Rhônes 2006, $15

This is one of those wines that is easy to miss. At first, second, even third or fourth taste, it is a pleasant Côtes-du-Rhône, nicely balanced, but not showing a whole lot. Now, 48 hours later, it's still not showing off, but it is getting better - a bit more fruit but mostly stony tannins that echo the rugged mountains of Provence and the southern Rhone. This wine speaks of the earth, of garrigue scrubbed clean by the fierce winds of the mistral.

The Meffre family are 11th-generation winemakers - the family bought their first vineyards during the reign of Louis XIV. The Côtes-du-Rhône is sourced from vineyards in the commune of Sablet near the border of Gigondas. It tastes as though somone put the famous stones of Châteauneuf in a blender and then filtered the wine through them.

At a time when Rhône wines are aping the New World paradigm of fruit-forward, in-your-face fun, this is a welcome flashback to Old World-style terroir.

Imported by Europvin S.A. A Christopher Cannan Selection.