In the summer heat, we often say ixnay to the chardonnay, preferring lighter, more acidic white wines. But we shouldn't reject chardonnay altogether. This week and next, in my Washington Post wine columns, I recommend some terrific chardonnays for summer dining. The key? They are unoaked, with great acidity and moderate alcohol levels.
Click here for my column this week on the value-driven chardonnays of Macon, in the southern end of Burgundy. Next week - Chablis in the north.
What's up for wine lovers in 2010? Here are a few prognostications ...
An increasing emphasis on value over stature as the recession maintains its downward pressure on wine prices. Consumers will continue to "drink down" and look for wines that cost less than they used to spend, but still taste expensive. This will reverberate across the price spectrum - those who could comfortably spend $120 in a restaurant two years ago will continue to look for quality in the $60- $80 range, while those who may be cutting their restaurant budgets altogether will look for the $30 - $40 wines that taste like the $80 they used to praise a sommelier for recommending.
The sweet spot in value in the retail market will continue to be in the $15-$20 range, especially for imported wines. Although the average price paid for 750 ml of wine in the US continues to hover in the $5-7 range, the "bang for the buck" is still in the teens.
More wineries will downblend their reserve wines into their basic blends - so we will see fewer $50 cuvées and more in the $30 range from places like California, Oregon and Washington. While these will appear expensive, they will often provide great value.
Bargains in imported wines? Portugal and Spain - more emphasis on the Iberian peninsula for sheer value. Why? Quality price ratio, of course, but also because these wine regions manage to bridge Old World sensibilities with New World preferences for riper, sweeter wines. Argentina will continue to shine, too.
More emphasis on "natural" wines - whatever that means. It means organic, and biodynamic, and - depending on who you read or talk to - even using ambient yeast instead of cultivated yeast. All well and good, and I applaud winemakers who want to preserve the environment and protect their vineyard workers from pesticides, fungicides, and the like. However, I worry that "natural wine" is becoming a buzzword that is more a reflection of marketing than viticulture. Wine has enough polemics - the pendulum may be swinging too far to the left.
The anti-alcohol movement will continue to grow - not an anti-wine (or beer or booze) movement, but a swing against the high-alcohol, high-extraction wines that have dominated the high end of the market the past several years. Consumers will favor moderate-alcohol wines well balanced with acidty, even from areas and wine types we now associate with syrup.
Regional wines will continue to gain in prominence. The Millenial Generation will continue to explore and expand its wine palate, and this rising consumer group appears to be unfettered by its elders' preference for cabernet, chardonnay and merlot. As local wines improve in quality, more consumers will ask for them in restaurants, stores, etc.
For better or worse, wine writing will trend towards new media. The recent demise of the popular Wall Street Journal wine column by Dorothy Gaiter and John Brecher emphasizes the shift toward blogs, Facebook and Tweeter as mainstream media - newspapers - cut costs. This will mean a decline in substantive, thoughtful wine articles, but an increasing visibility for individual wine reviews in "tweets" or blog posts. Some familiar names from newspaper columns (Gaiter and Brecher, perhaps?) will gravitate toward blogs and "word of mouth" media like Twitter. But will they have the same market pull? Psst, buddy, wanna try a nice Zinfandel? ...
Happy New Year, everyone!
Last Wednesday, my Washington Post column detailed my issues with those big, bruising US syrahs that I'd been complaining about here over the past few weeks. But I did find some worth recommending.
(Eric Asimov wrote along the same lines in the New York Times, extolling California pinot noir makers who have gone against the syrupy blockbuster style favored nowadays. His article was much more influential than mine, but I'm okay with that!)
What makes for a good syrah? The same qualities that make for good wines from any grape, any place. Balance among fruit, acidity and alcohol. There are successful wines at high alcohol, such as the Sequel Syrah 2005 from Columbia Valley in Washington, at 14.7%. Part of the Long Shadows project, Sequel is made by John Duval, formerly winemaker for Penfold's Grange in Australia. The man knows syrah.
But his was an exception at that alcohol level. And I tasted some at 15.5% that were disjointed, clumsy oafs. Not only would I not want these wines dating my daughter, I wouldn't want them to wash down my dinner! :)
Please, winemakers, stop obliterating our palates. Please make wines of balance and finesse, ones that do not obscure the fruit for the supposed power of high extract, late-harvested wines. Too many winemakers are producing wines this way "because we can" - because the climate, improved vineyard techniques, yeasts, whatever, allow them to. And there is evidently a market for them, so more power to the winemakers who can sell their wines. But I think a lot of writers and consumers are beginning to balk at this trend. We want wines that we can finish, not wines that finish us.
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.
I’m in a bad mood tonight. I’ve been tasting American syrahs. I’d looked forward to exploring these wines ever since my last visit to Dry Creek Valley in 2006, when I tasted a few that shone with bright blueberry flavors, velvety texture, and enticing balance.
So now I wanted to see if syrah has indeed found its voice in the United States. And it has. It sings like Aunt Jemima. Or Mrs. Butterworth.
These wines taste like pancake syrup. They are thick, viscous behemoths that typically top 15% alcohol. Flavors are … heavy … maple, mocha, some fruit masked underneath, but it is overwhelmed by something – and I believe that something is the alcohol.
I’ve found a few that I like, but none that I love. I opened six tonight, from California, Oregon, and Washington. There wasn’t a dog in the bunch, but none I wanted to curl up with and just finish the bottle either.
Sigh … guess I’ll have to try some more tomorrow.
I am a freelance food and wine writer and wine columnist for The Washington Post.
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