Dave McIntyre's WineLine

New York on My Mind

I'm a big fan of New York wines. Riesling from the Finger Lakes seems to get better every year, especially as winemakers continue to carve out a distinctive style that speaks of the region's terroir. Are they particularly German? Well, maybe not, though some definitely have that mineral oil quality (many wine lovers call it petrol or diesel, but I think mineral oil seems more positive a reference). The ones that send me over the top when I taste them have bracing acidity and an almost unbearable lightness of being, an ephemeral characteristic that leaves flavors flitting across your palate with surprising complexity, even if the initial impression may not carry depth. If I had to point to a German region and insist on making the comparison, I'd say Finger Lakes Rieslings (at least the ones that excite me the most) remind me of the delicate wines from the Mittelrhein, which admittedly is not Germany's most revered wine region. (Though I love that delicacy!) So perhaps it's best just to say that New York is carving out its own identity with the grape.

Of course, I have a soft spot for Seneca Lake, which is the middle finger. (Ba-da-boom!)

Some of my favorites? Hermann J. Wiemer and Dr. Konstantin Frank are the most classic. The ones that I find especially enticing come from Fox Run, Anthony Road and Red Newt. Chateau Lafayette Reneau had a wonderful Riesling that won Best in Show at the Atlantic Seaboard Wine Competition once, and at this year's judging I flipped for what turned out to be the 2009 Dry Riesling from Glenora.

New York is not limited to the Finger Lakes, of course. Long Island is making some delicious reds, and this region is also establishing its own style and character - the better wineries are no longer trying to make Pomerol, they're just happy making the best damn Long Island merlot they can.

And more and more New York wines are now reaching the D.C. area market, which means they are making enough to distribute wines outside the state. This was the topic of my Washington Post column last week. This column was particularly gratifying because it engendered considerably more response than I usually get, through e-mails and phone calls. Most of them said something like, "Nice column, but you didn't mention my favorite ... " That means readers are aware of New York wines and looking out for them, whether on their travels up north or now on their local retail shelves.

For more information about New York's wineries, go to uncorknewyork.com, the website of the New York Wine & Grape Foundation, or to Lenn Thompson's New York Cork Report. Don't forget Regional Wine Week coming up Oct. 10-16 on DrinkLocalWine.com!

The Recession Claims Billington

The recession has taken a bite out of the Washington, D.C., wine community with the recent demise of Billington Wines, the Springfield, Va.-based company that helped put South American wines on U.S. dinner tables.

Billington closed its doors May 15, citing the loss of some of its primary clients to other importers, depressed demand for wines because of the economy, and declining sales at Havens winery in Napa, which the company purchased in 2006.

The company’s Web site still had no news of this development as of May 26, but it was confirmed to me by Alfredo Bartholomaus, the company’s founder.

Details are still to be worked out, but most of the wineries in Billington's portfolio will now be represented by Winebow, the New Jersey-based company that grew from an Italian specialty importer into a major import and distribution powerhouse. Many of Billington's sales force, including Bartholomaus and his son, Alex, who has run Billington the past several years, will also work for Winebow.

Alfredo Bartholomaus, who emigrated to the United States from Chile in the early 1960s, started Billington in 1985. His main client then was Cousiño-Macul, Chile's oldest family-owned winery. Working primarily “out of the trunk of my car,” Bartholomaus introduced American retailers and restaurants to the value that Chile produces with inexpensive wines that outperform their competition. His company was one of the first quality importers to spring up in the Washington area – a market that thrives today.

In recent years, the company developed the Big Tattoo line of wines from Chile and Germany, which not only provided tremendous value at $8, but also donated proceeds from each sale to local charities.

“I came to this country with one hand tied behind my back, and I have been fighting ever since,” a defiant Bartholomaus said Tuesday. “I will keep fighting. I will still be around.”

(Some disclosure is in order. Like most wine writers in the Washington, D.C., area, I count Alfredo Bartholomaus as a friend and mentor. He has been a gregarious and effective missionary on behalf of the wines from Chile and Argentina, always with a keen eye, rapier wit and precise palate for the value these wines represent for consumers.)

I will have more on the demise of Billington Wines, both here and on The Washington Post’s Food section blog, “All We Can Eat,” at washingtonpost.com.

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.

Bex Riesling 2006, Mosel, $10

This is a simple Riesling - semi-dry (meaning it has a touch of sweetness but doesn't really come off as sweet, because its acid keeps it in balance) - with textbook flavors of apricot and peach. No complexity, really, no slatey minerality, nothing to suggest it should inspire poetry or revolutions. But it is just the type of wine every Chinese restaurant should be hoarding to offer under $20 a bottle. It will moo goo my gai pan just nicely, thank you!

Imported by Purple Wine Co., Graton, CA.

The Green Revolution

Wine is going green. Like many of us trying to shrink our "carbon footprints" by using less electricity, recycling, or driving hybrid cars, the wine industry is becoming increasingly earth-friendly.

At the Fair Lakes Whole Foods Market in Fairfax, Va., customers gravitate to the "Earth Friendly" wine section, with 36 selections from around the world. At My Organic Market in Rockville, Md., the words "sustainable," "organic," and "biodynamic" appear next to the prices of earth-friendly wines. Chevy Chase Wine & Spirits in D.C. lists "green" wineries on its Web site. Biodynamic wines are singled out at Cork & Fork in Gainesville, Va., and the store’s new outpost in Maryland’s Bethesda Row. Organic and biodynamic wines at Franklin’s Restaurant, Brewery and General Store in Hyattsville, Md., come with promotional placards as big as the ones bearing Robert Parker’s seal of approval.

For wine, this is a dramatic change. Remember when "organic food" conjured images of bug-ridden lettuce and wormy apples at hippie co-ops? "Organic wine" used to mean oxidized juice trod by unwashed feet, destined to spoil in bottle before the cork was even pulled. The more chemicals dumped on the vineyard, it seemed, the better and more reliable the wine.

Now that organic foods are in demand and widely available, consumers are also responding to wineries that take care of their land. And vine-hugging wineries are learning that "green" buzzwords on a label help sell the product.

But just what are these trends? Are they real, or are they Madison Avenue marketing ploys? More importantly, can you taste the difference?

"Sustainable" viticulture has no legal definition, so it essentially means anything the winegrower wants it to mean. Sustainable is similar to organic, in that it reduces use of chemicals, except that vintners need not undergo an expensive certification process and they retain the ability to use chemical sprays if their crops are threatened by disease or pests.

"Organic" means the winery’s vineyard practices have been formally certified, most likely by a state agency. To be certified, the vineyard must be farmed organically – with no artificial pesticides, herbicides or fertilizers – for three years. Still, the word "organic" on a wine label is confusing: The USDA has decreed that an organic wine must be made without the addition of sulfites, a natural and essential preservative. That’s why you often see a wine "made with organically grown grapes" – this means the vineyard is farmed organically, even if the winery practices don’t meet some cockamamie government restriction.

"Biodynamic" farming goes beyond organics. Developed in the 1920s by the Austrian philosopher Rudolf Steiner, biodynamics takes a holistic approach that focuses on biodiversity. The vineyard is at once a closed eco-system and yet part of a greater cosmos. Winery and vineyard wastes are used to produce compost and natural fertilizers to feed the vines. An international organization called Demeter certifies biodynamic farms, including wineries, but like sustainable viticulture there is no government-decreed definition of "biodynamic."

Derided by skeptics as a religion or "voodoo agriculture" more than a farming system, biodynamics can sound downright kooky. It mandates burying cow horns filled with dung throughout the vineyard on the autumnal equinox, or pruning vines according to the phase of the moon, for example. Yet its adherents include some luminaries of the wine world, such as France’s Domaine Leroy, Coulée de Serrant, and Zind Humbrecht; Alvaro Palacios in Spain; and Germany’s Peter-Jakob Kühn. Steiner’s disciples in California include Benziger, Grgich Hills, Quintessa, Quivira, Robert Sinskey and Bonny Doon.

"The one thing that distinguishes biodynamics from other forms of agriculture is that it rejuvenates the land," says Mike Benziger, of Benziger Family Winery in Sonoma. "Each year we take a crop from the land, but we’re giving back fertility and vitality."

Benziger has championed biodynamics for more than a decade, using the method exclusively on the 260 acres his winery farms. He also works with 40 growers who farm an additional 1,100 acres, all of which now use one of the green methods.

Earth-friendly wines are also attractive to some restaurants that feature organic ingredients. At the new Redwood Restaurant and Bar in Bethesda Row, sommelier Brian Cook features "sustainable" wines, a rubric he uses to cover all three green viticulture methods.

"It’s something I believe in, and it’s an easy bridge to the food menu," Cook says. "We’re sourcing sustainable and organic ingredients as much as possible. So if a producer practices sustainable viticulture, I’ll be more inclined to pick up his wines."

Okay, so taking care of the earth is a good thing, we can agree on that. Is there a reason to seek out sustainable, organic or biodynamic wines other than we don’t like dumping chemicals into the ground?

In other words, can we TASTE it? Or is all this "green" talk a cynical appeal to our new eco-sensibilities?

"I can’t tell you in good conscience that biodynamic wines are better than other wines, but I can tell you they are different," Benziger says. That’s because they reflect a vineyard’s individual characteristics – its terroir – more clearly without the interference of artificial chemicals, he explains. In part that’s due to the use of natural yeasts that grow in the vineyard; commercial yeasts often are designed to emphasize characteristics of the grape variety or a specific style, no matter where the grapes are grown.

"With biodynamics, the grapes are able to express the characteristics of place," Benziger says. "With chemicals, all you get are the varietal flavors of the grape." In other words, a least common denominator.

There is no scientific evidence that biodynamic farming is superior to organic or even sustainable viticulture. And there is certainly no guarantee against bad winemaking, even with the b-word on the label. Yet if "wine is made in the vineyard," then it makes sense to take care of the vineyard, and to seek out wines grown by sustainable, organic or biodynamic methods. Made well, these wines often taste fresher, more vibrant and alive than most. As wine lovers, we want wines to convey a "sense of place," whether it be lush fruit balanced with ample acidity because of cool nights and ocean breezes, or the stony austerity of wines grown in poor soil on steep mountain slopes. We should applaud vintners who coax these expressions from their vineyards through their farming practices.

The nuances of these wines may not be readily apparent at first sip. Are these flavors a matter of faith, discernible only to true believers? I think not. If responsible farming can make a better tomato, it can make a better wine. Winemakers are learning to listen to how grapes express themselves in the vineyard, rather than controlling that expression through chemicals. We need to listen to how these new wines express themselves in the glass.

Benziger 2004 Tribute, Sonoma Mountain, $75 (certified biodynamic).

An explosive wine, strong, gritty and earthy, one that definitely speaks of the soil. The flavors are hard to pin down – currant, mocha, then stone, earth and spice. I wish I were as alive as this wine.

(A slightly condensed version of this article appeared in the November 2008 issue of Washingtonian magazine.)

Quivira 2006 Grenache, Dry Creek Valley, Wine Creek Ranch, $26 (certified biodynamic).

Austere and well-structured, this delicious wine resembles a Côtes-du-Rhône Village, such as a Vacqueyras or a Rasteau, only with a bit of California fruit and flair. Quivira also produces a 2007 Sauvignon Blanc, Fig Tree Vineyard, $18, that is supple with tropical fruit and hints of Asian spices.

Domaine Carabinièrs, Côtes-du-Rhône 2005, $10 (made with organically grown grapes).

"Mountain fruit," like the satisfaction you taste after a long vertical hike.

Lolonis Lady Bug Red, Cuvee VII, Redwood Valley, $13 (organically grown grapes).

A multi-year red blend based on Zinfandel and named for the lady bugs used as natural pest control in the vineyard, this is a great value for an everyday red, perfect for casual fare.

Schloss Johannisberg

“The last Princess von Metternich called this cellar ‘The Cathedral of Riesling,’” my guide said. It was easy to see why. The gravel on the floor, strewn there to capture humidity, crunched underfoot, as though the wines in the ancient casks were applauding our every step.

The cellar was really nothing special, as far as European castle wine cellars go, though it was artfully lit to suggest the cathedral analogy, the light reflecting through the flutes of sparkling Riesling sekt we carried as votives. Nothing special, that is, except for its location, at Schloss Johannisberg in Germany’s Rheingau region.

A visit to Schloss Johannisberg is a necessary pilgrimage for any Riesling lover. Not because of the wines, though they are great, but because of the history, and the geography. The 50th parallel bisects the vineyards, marking Europe’s northernmost wine region.

The estate, above the small town of the same name where the Rhine flows east-to-west for a short stretch, combines religious, diplomatic, and viticultural history. The schloss, or castle, began as a monastery built in the early 12th century, though more recent excavations found Romanesque attributes that have been featured in the current restoration. The castle itself was finished in 1728, but destroyed in World War II by an errant Allied bomb. The estate, which is now about 80 acres, was planted to Riesling in the 1740s by the Prince of Fulda. This nobleman, or at least his tardy messenger, was responsible for German wine as we know it - one year, when the official decree to begin harvest arrived late, the nervous vineyard workers were forced to make wine from moldy grapes, and botrytis, or noble rot, was discovered. This was the beginning of spätlese, auslese and trockenbeerenauslese, the progressively sweet wines mimicked the world over as late harvest.

Schloss Johannisberg changed hands several times during the Napoleonic Wars, eventually coming under control of the Hapsburgs. The Emperor of Austria awarded it to Prince von Metternich for his work at the Congress of Vienna, which restored European order after Napoleon’s defeat. The estate remained in the Metternich family until the last prince passed away two years ago.

My guide on this tour was Christian Witte, the estate’s young and ambitious managing director. He spoke brashly of restoring Schloss Johannisberg’s wines to the status they enjoyed before the First World War, when they were priced comparably to the first growths of Bordeaux.

The company actually has two wineries, the Schloss and G.H. von Mumm, located nearby. The Mumm label (not to be confused with the better-known Champagne house) produces red wines and trockens, the trendy dry style of white wines. The Schloss sticks to the traditional styled wines.

“Tradition is not praying to the ashes, it is handing over the fire,” Witte said, practicing his marketing mantra. He acknowledged that rebuilding the estate’s reputation will be difficult given the consumer’s difficulty in deciphering Riesling in general and German wines in particular.

“Riesling is a wine-lover’s dream, but it is a marketing disaster,” he said. “Why do we have so many styles? Because we can! With no other grape variety can you do that!”

To prove his point, Witte offered a dizzying array of wines, all showing tremendous Riesling character but with significant differences in sweetness and fruit expression. Trying to keep up, my notes are a jumble of references to “red label,” “green label,” or silver, “long cap” and “erstes gewächs,” one of Germany’s attempts to emulate the first growth concept. These are interspersed with adjectives such as “zesty” and “mineral,” plus frequent superlatives.

Finally, I put my pen down and concentrated on the wines. Tradition, ambition, castles and cathedrals faded from my mind as I stared into the fiery glint of Riesling in my glass.

Photos by Dave McIntyre: Schloss Johannisberg; the 50th Parallel; Christian Witte in the Cathedral of Riesling.

I have a Beef with Riesling!

Can Riesling carry a meal?

Is the Pope German?

On a recent tour of Germany’s top wine regions, I found myself in Bacharach, in the heart of Mittelrhein, where nearly every promontory overlooking the storied Rhine River boasts a castle, and those that don’t have castles have vineyards, strikingly beautiful vineyards on impossible slopes of up to 70 degrees, their vinerows ascending the mountains rather than crossing them in order to capture sunlight evenly on both sides.

Bacharach lies right along the river, as several small towns do. It has a train station, a few churches, stores offering wines and cuckoo clocks, and of course a castle up the hillside overlooking town. Most importantly for wine lovers, Bacharach has Weingut J. Ratzenberger – and the Rhein Hotel, home of Stübers Restaurant and chef Andreas Stüber.

Jochen Ratzenberger’s winery on the edge of town is built into the hill that grows his vines, the cellars dug 40 meters deep into the hill to keep the wines naturally cool. He took us to the top of these slopes to show us the slate terroir that gives his Rieslings the delicate minerality characteristic of the Mittelrhein. As he explained how the south-facing slopes capture the northern sunlight, church bells rung out from the town below us, their song cascading from the hillsides to the east and west, celebrating nothing in particular (it wasn’t even the hour) except perhaps life itself. And maybe Riesling.

Or perhaps these were dinner bells. At Stüber Restaurant, I ordered the house specialty, Rieslingbräten – a pot roast essentially, marinated for three days in Riesling, mustard, and some other stuff I never quite got clear despite several entreaties to the chef. (He gave me a postcard with a cartoon that roughly describes how the dish is made – it’s that popular.) The meat is then braised with onions in a 150-degree Celsius oven for three hours. Served with its buttery sauce and a mound of spätzle noodles, it was sheer comfort food.

Cooked in Riesling, it of course called for Riesling to wash it down. I gulped the J. Ratzenberger 2005 Steeger St. Jost Grosses Gewächs, which fermented for 11 months and featured yeasty apricot and slate flavors, as well as the 2007 Steeger St. Jost Halbtrocken, more delicate and flowery, with even a hint of lavender, very characteristic of the Mittelrhein. But my favorite with the beef was the weightier 2007 Bacharacher Wolfshöhle Spätlese, which offered apricot, pear, and acacia honey with a mineral oil texture and a long, lovely finish.

I never once looked around for a red wine.

Back home, the memory of this meal – which ended in the restaurant kitchen watching Germany defeat Austria in the European soccer qualifying round – has me digging my spätzle maker out of the closet and searching for Rieslings in the wine stores.