The Cork Board

  

“It’s kinda….eh,” my buddy, Mike, commented about the Vina Alarba 2004 Old Vines Grenache we were trying.

Ok, not a ringing endorsement but he was right... sorta.

At first taste, this Spanish red didn’t show a lot of character. It was metallic and highly alcoholic on the nose. With time, though, this wine really started to open up. After about 30 minutes, the fruit in the nose became far more pronounced. It was still tight but we were definitely able to identify ripe, red fruits. I found this “secondary nose” (yes, I just made that term up) to be attractive and inviting.

The taste pretty accurately mirrored the smell – metallic, yet fruity. No real acid or tannin to speak of. Basically, it was a simple, yet perfectly pleasant wine. For $10 it’s eminently quaffable. And, to be fair, it’s about what I’d expect from a wine in this price range. From a $10 wine, I’d anticipate one, maybe two, distinct characteristics and not a lot of complexity. As I’ve mentioned in other reviews, I think Spanish reds in this price range are great values and pretty consistently deliver good, simple drinking wines. I especially like what the Spanish are doing with Grenache (Grenache is one of the primary grapes found in French wines from the southern Rhone valley and is the second most widely planted grape in the world). This wine is a pretty good example of that.

“Berry! Berry! Berry! Right?” my friend M proudly and loudly (she’d had a few already) exclaimed when I asked her what she thought of the Poderi di Luigi Einaudi 2003 Docetto di Dogliani. “And I know what you mean when you say that a wine is ‘earthy!’” she added excitedly. “There’s almost a mushroom smell to it, except it’s not mushrooms. It’s just….well…earthy. But the main thing I get is berry. You should put ‘Berry, Berry, Berry’ in your review-blog-thingy cause that’s what this wine is.”

While I might debate her use of “review-blog-thingy” (though M did attempt to convince me that this was, indeed, an accepted technical term), I cannot argue with her description -- she nailed it. This Corkboard Experiment wine leads with a big smack of bright berry flavor (I say blueberries but there didn’t seem to be much of a consensus around that), which made me initially think of a New World wine. However, following right behind is an impossible-to-miss earthiness that I, personally equate with Old World wines (“Earthiness = Old World” may not be a universal truth, but, for me, it’s a reasonable starting guideline). Below the fruit and the earth was a light touch of mint.

The taste was very Italian – a lot of acidity and big, big tannins. This was balanced with a ton of fruit – more than I’d have expected -- and some oak. Despite all the tannin and acid, this is still a relatively medium-bodied wine. It wasn’t thick or chewy like a huge, full-bodied cabernet. This is a spectacular food wine and it paired magnificently with the take out pizza (extra sausage, extra garlic, extra cheese) our group shared.

Dolcettos usually represent fantastic values in Italian wines. They come from the Piedmont region, which is primarily known for big, expensive reds like Barbera and Barolo, which often require years of aging before being ready for primetime. Dolcettos are the softer and fruitier cousins of these big guns. In general, these aren’t aging wines; they should be drunk within about three years of the vintage.

If you like Italian food and Italian wine and haven’t yet tried Dolcetto, I strongly suggest you give them a shot.

Cheers!

John

“Funkalicious!”

“Funkadelic!”

“Funk-tabulous!”

“One too many Parliament records?” you ask. Well, maybe. And the Best of Parliament disc wailing in the background as I write could explain the irresistible urge I have to add, “you dig?” to the end of all of my sentences. But that’s not the point. The point is the grape – Carmenére, which always makes me want to scream “Funk!” I’m not even sure how to accurately describe what “funk” means, smells or tastes like. Perhaps, like the music of the same name, you just know it when you find it.

And.

It.

Is.

Groovy.

(Ok, ok, I’ll turn off the CD now. Sorry.)

Obviously, I mean funky in a good way. That being said, I have heard people use the word in the negative, as in “this wine smells a bit funky” to signify that something in the bottle is off. Naturally, that makes this all the more confusing and, out of consideration for you, my humble readers, I probably should have avoided the term. However, it’s my wine blog -- so there.

Originally a French Bordeaux grape, Carmenére is primarily identified with Chile these days. If you’ve never tried it, it’s…unusual. It’s big. And thick. And meaty. Literally. It reminds me of raw meat, which is rather disturbing the first time you encounter it but, like a fungus, it grows on you. This Santa Ema 2003 Carmenére is also smoky and woody and full of spice. There are herbal notes throughout and I’m reminded of raisins or currants.

The taste is even bigger than the nose. It’s cling-to-your-mouth thick. The finish is looooooong and the essence of the wine stays with you for a while. Spicy, thick, chewy, hot and meaty, I wrote in my notes. I taste prunes or raisins or some other sort of sun-dried fruit. The wine is very full bodied (it actually feels heavy in your mouth) but there are no tannins of which to speak, so you don’t get that dried out mouth feeling that you often find with big reds (the wines, not the gum). A light shot of acid provides some complexity and gives me confidence about pairing it with a rich food. Personally, I think it’s great with barbeque and other foods that are equally large and unique.

Carmenére is a love it or hate it varietal, in my opinion. I love it for what it is – different and funk-tastic. It’s a bit like a South African Pinotage, if you’ve ever tried that varietal. As you can guess, this isn’t a subtle wine. Carmenére is big and bold and full of novel characteristics. It’s the bull in the china (wine?) shop. It’ll never leave you searching for an opinion.

Looking for something unusual on a cold winter night? Try a Carmenére from Chile. It’s like nothing you’ve had before and it’s likely to be a pretty good value, as are most Chilean wines.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go shave my tongue.

“You dig?”

John

What a striking contrast to the French red I sampled the previous evening (which, in turn, was in direct contrast to the American Cab I’d had before that). That contrast is all the more interesting given that Malbec is actually historically a French red wine grape (though in France Malbec is most often used in small amounts as a blending grape for red Bordeaux, whereas Argentinean wine makers have taken to showcasing it on its own).

While the French was subtle and hid its fruit behind a wall of earthy tones, this Argentinean Malbec was all about the fruit and making sure you knew it. Bright, ripe berries were immediately obvious in the nose and they were big. The fruit was concentrated and mixed with strong smells of alcohol; it almost reminded me of a Californian Zinfandel. Along with the fruit were some hints of mint and a toastiness that probably came from extensive oak aging. The wood component was pretty pronounced, which is not usually something I’m a big fan of, but, in this case, the fruit balanced it and the whole thing worked.

To me, the taste surpassed the nose. It was smooth and juicy. No real complexity or acid or tannin to speak of; just big, round and full of berry goodness. This wine might pair well with uncomplicated foods (a roast chicken, maybe?) but without an acid or tannin backbone, I’d be afraid it might get lost in anything too rich. I actually think I’d be more inclined to enjoy this Malbec on its own. In fact, I think that’s exactly what I am going to do after I purchase another bottle…

Cheers,

John

Coming on the heels of the Californian Cabernet I had the night before, the Chateau de Lascaux 2001 Les Nobles Pierres from the Languedoc region of France was a great reminder of the differences between New and Old World wines. It also presented me with the opportunity to utilize one of my favorite wine words: “barnyard.” This wine reeked of the barnyard (This smell is often referred to as “earthy” but I think “barnyard” is so much more accurate. And, yes, "barnyard" is a nice way of saying exactly what you think it means), which I’ve found is pretty good indicator that you are dealing with an Old World wine, often French. Feel free to insert the French/barnyard joke of your choosing here.

Astonishingly, “barnyard” is not a bad thing in a wine though it does take a while to learn to see (smell?) past it. In this case, behind the layer of barnyard were minerals, vegetal tones and hints of fruit. With a little time in the glass (and with some pretty intense swirling on my part), the barnyard dissipated to reveal a more pleasing balance or strawberry fruit, vegetation and earthiness.

The taste was boring in comparison to the nose, but it did offer a pleasing combination of acid, fruit and tannin. It was light bodied and very good with food. The acid cut through the richness of my meal (fettuccini with Bolognese sauce for those who were wondering) and left a nice dry, fruit taste.

With continued aeration, this wine showed further smoothing out. Great wine for food! It might be a bit much for folks who really favor the fruit-forward nature of New World wines but I’d encourage everyone to give this a try, as it’s a very good example of this style of wine.

Cheers,

John