Gnarly Head 2006 Cabernet Sauvignon

It all started with a honey ham. Caitlin found one on sale at the market and decided to make an event out of it. Girls Night With Honey Ham, we called it (in my head). A few of Caitlin's ladies came over for dinner, followed by a trip to the theater to see Valentines Day. Movie reviews are not my thing, but I will note that the movie was not the highlight of the evening, though nor was the Gnarly Head Cab.

I don't remember much about this wine, partly because it wasn't that great, and partly because I drank it over a week ago. This week has been a little demanding, so I apologize to my loyal reader(s). I will recall what I can about this gnarly wine, which I picked up on sale from $12 to $7. Last summer, a friend said it was one of his favorites, so I figured I'd take advantage of the buy and grab a bottle for the party.

The Gnarly grapes are grown in Northern California, and this wine is a blend of grapes from different regions, including Mendocino, Paso Robles, Monterrey, and Lodi. Each area's grapes add something to the overall flavor. The Gnarly Head Winery started with a mission to make great Zinfandel, but has expanded to making Merlot, Pinot Grigio, Chard, and Cab as well.

I opened the bottle while baking coconut cream cheese cookies for the ladies. (pictured left coated in almond slivers) Perhaps it wasn't the best pairing, since the label suggests drinking it with meats and rich cheeses or chocolate. It was medium bodied with a hint of cranberries up front, with a lot more presence than a typical Cab Sauv. The wine left a strong aftertaste, which Caitlin thought tasted like lime rind, and I just thought tasted bad. It was light on the tongue, but quite heavy on the taste buds - spicy and bitter with tannins on the finish. Oddly, this wine has gotten great reviews: 91 points at the 2008 California State Wine Fair Competition and 86 from Wine Enthusiast Magazine. I didn't like it much.

Domaine Grand Veneur Les Champauvrins 2007 Côtes du Rhône Villages

There's not much to do during Snowmageddon other than drink wine and blog about it. Caitlin was making pizza from scratch last night, and class was cancelled for today (surprise!), so it seemed like a good time to open a nice bottle. We bought this Cotes Du Rhone Villages together at the neighborhood liquor store after a wine tasting one Friday. We both really liked it, and it was on sale for $19. Not exactly the humblest of wines, but splitting the cost made it bearable.

Les Champauvrins is a single vineyard bordering Chateauneuf du Pape appelation (a legally defined geographical indication), first made known for winemaking by Pope Jean XXII in 1320. This is evident in the name of the region, meaning "New Castle of the Pope." The Jaume family, who run Grand Veneur Winery, began farming the region in 1826. The area is renowned for its soil, a base of marine sandstone layered with remnants of Alpine glaciers and rocks deposited by the Rhone. The winery practices green harvesting, which means that during the growing season, they go through the fields and selectively remove bunches of immature grapes. Although this process significantly decreases the winery's output, it allows the vines to give everything they have to the remaining bunches, ultimately producing better grapes and wine - quality over quantity logic.

This particular Cotes du Rhone Villages is a blend of 70% Grenache, 20% Syrah, and 10% Mourvedre. It is aged in stainless steel vats for 15 days with "pigeage". Pigeage is when the skins and stems, which naturally float to the top of the liquid, are manually submerged to increase their contribution to the flavor. Traditionally, people did this with their feet, like in the movies. If you Google "pigeage" there are some interesting image results.

I must confess we opened the bottle before the pizza was even in the oven. Even the cork in this wine was lovely. It was a proper cork (not agglomerate or the beloved screw top), and crested with the name of the current head of the estate, Alain Jaume. Beyond the cork, the wine was no disappointment. When I first tasted it, I thought OH! sweet! But then as it circled around my tongue and slid towards my throat, it opened up into something else. It took me a few sips to figure out what was happening, and for the first time I really understood what it means to say a wine is complex. Maybe it's because I've been paying more attention, or maybe it's because this wine cost more than $6, but it really tasted like a story. A childhood of rich syrupy fruit, a sweet and seductive adolescence, evolving gently into delicate refinement, and finishing with the subtle scars and callouses of a life well-lived. Sorry boys, but wine seems more like a woman to me.

If you can't tell, this wine was a win. So was the pizza, by the way.

Jargon 2007 Pinot Noir

Thursday night Law & Econ is a great time to G-chat. Adi (left) was also stuck at school and suggested we try out the free salsa lessons after class, since I have been talking about wanting to learn ballroom (and he went all last semester). One of the girls from my section hosts lessons at school from 8-9 with a guy whom I guess she teaches legitimate dance classes with outside of school. Earlier in the evening, Adi and I had both been drinking wine at respective event receptions at school. We decided (via G-chat) more wine was needed. So he went and picked out this bottle while I was finishing class, and we convened afterward to enjoy. He brought a crunch bar and a mug, true law student ghetto chic.

He selected a 2007 Pinot Noir, mostly, I think, because of the screw top, and partly because of the little megaphone man on the label. It's bottled under the Jargon label, which only makes Pinot Noir. They have a pretty cute Web site, www.jargonwines.com, through which I learned that "Jargon" is basically poking fun at the whole wine-critique culture (and by association, my blog?). It is grown in California by the Trinchero Family Estates, which also encompasses several other well-branded wines. I can't find anything online about the process from vine to bottle, probably because of the rebel nature of the label. But I would guess it was aged in stainless steel or concrete, since there wasn't any oak in the flavor.

The easiest way to explain this wine is that it was much more like a white than red. It was simple and fruity and reminded me of the Manischewitz they serve for church communion. The sweetness was thick with cherries, and the tannins were barely noticeable. I've never had such a bright Pinot Noir, and I honestly think anyone would enjoy this wine. Adi and I liked it, anyway.

It was the perfect wine to loosen the hips for salsa. After a glass, we joined the class and I learned some pretty sweet moves. I'll definitely be back next week to learn more, and maybe review a new bottle!

Jacob's Creek Reserve 2006 Shiraz

There are certain things men will never understand. One of them is The Notebook. And I'll admit, sometimes I don't even understand why the idea of curling up on the sofa under a blanket with a glass of wine and a movie guaranteed to make you cry sounds like the perfect Thursday evening. But it did - this Thursday at least.

This bottle was a very personal choice, so I thought it was the right time to open it. The Jacob's Creek Reserve Shiraz is the first wine I ever loved. I only had it once: it was my farewell dinner at Dragonfly in Gainesville (sushi seemed appropriate since I was moving to Japan), and a few of us split the shiraz. I've never forgotten it, and a while back, I saw it on sale in the SuperFresh behind school. $8.99 from 12.99. Good excuse to revisit the past.

Wearing neon blue tights and my oldest t-shirt, I plopped on the couch and poured a glass of blast-from-the-past. Just in time for the awkward strip scene in The Notebook where Adams and Gosling are about to consumate their teenage love on the floor of some old house. This had been a good idea, after all.

This South Australian wine is aged in a variety of French and American oak barrels for 18 months. At the end, the product is tasted, and only the best barrels are blended into the Reserve. It scored an 89 on the Wine Spectator scale. I don't know what that means.

Recently, I've found that shiraz is no longer my favorite varietal. So I was a little nervous about this wine - since it was so infused with memories, I didn't want to ruin it by realizing that I don't actually like it anymore. But it was nice. It was smooth up front but had that characteristic punch at the finish that I've found is the reason shiraz has fallen out of favor with me. It was a pleasant punch, though, spicy and not too bitter. I finished the bottle a few days later with Caitlin, and she expertly noted that it was very oaky, which I wouldn't have identified on my own. Also, those few days made a big difference in the texture. It got a lot softer, and thus a lot more enjoyable. I guess it just needed to breathe. In the end, I learned this:

wine + the notebook = catharsis

Los Vascos 2007 Sauvignon Blanc

I seem to be on a Chilean wine kick recently. Perhaps this is because there are so many affordable bottles, but it's also because the region produces really nice Cab Sauvs. Plus I recently made a Chilean friend, Nico, and whenever he brings wine over, it's inevitably (surprise!) Chilean.

This weekend I actually had two Chilean wines - a Carménère and a Sauvignon Blanc. Nico brought over the Carménère on Saturday night. He and Caitlin (my roommate) had plans to make dinner, and they downed one bottle of red while I was out ice skating. Luckily, I came home just in time to open the Carménère, which Nico received as a rather generous gift from an older co-worker. I won't review it here, because it was not a "humble" wine, and I'm sure my novice tongue could not even begin to do it justice. But it was lovely: velvety and indulgent.

Interestingly, the Carménère grape was one of the original varietals grown in Bordeaux, but was imported to Chile around 1850. It's a rather finicky grape: it doesn't grow well when exposed to too much rain, and the grape often doesn't develop properly (this is called poor fruit set). After years of problems with phylloxera infestations and failed vines, most regions gave up on growing Carménère. Luckily, it seems to do just fine in Chile, so most of the world's supply is now grown there. Until the last 15 years, Carménère was often confused with Merlot in Chile, as Sauvignon Blanc was with Sauvignonasse. Scientists and wine connoisseurs finally noticed something was off, and nowadays most bottles are accurately labeled with the appropriate varietals. But if you get ahold of a pre-2000 bottle, you might find a surprise inside.

But back to the cheap wine. Sunday was Ajay's 4-year veggietastic vegetarian anniversary, so he made yummy porcini mushroom risotto and had a few of us over for a celebration. I made chewy chocolate chip ginger cookies (sounds bizarre, but whoa) and took a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc to match. I'd picked it up a few months back at World Market on a wine binge and was saving it for an occasion that called for something light. We all shared a red with dinner, and only Ajay and I made it to this bottle.

This white from Casablanca Valley was a little tart and slightly acidic. I find most whites pretty easy to drink, and this was no exception. It was light, almost watery up front, but at the finish a strong citrus flavor emerged. Honestly, I didn't have a strong impression of it either way. It didn't offer the same taste journey that a red would have, but I enjoyed it. Also, I might have been distracted by the delicious risotto, addictive cookies, and Nick rolling around on the carpet.

Tutto Bene 2006 Toscana Rosso

I love this wine, and for one evening it loved me back. Saturday afternoon, I discovered the little gem on sale at World Market. They were claiming to have a store-wide wine sale, which turned out to be mostly dreaded Chardonnays. Caitlin talked me out of the $3.97 Riesling I found. My eyes wandered. The tuttobene label was intriguing, and it was nearly half off. As you may have noticed, I have a hard time saying no to anything under $6.

This blend of merlot, sangiovese, and canaiolo is grown in sandy clay soil of the Chianti region and aged for six months in concrete vats. The concrete method seems relatively new. The porous concrete allows the wine to breathe while aging, similar to wood (as opposed to stainless steel), but without changing the flavor in the process. Coupled with the paradigmatic climate of 2006, this bottle should taste as close to Tuscany as they come.

For dinner, hot italian sausage with onions and peppers in homemade tomato sauce over thyme-and-garlic-infused rice. Caitlin and I sat down in front of the TV, settled on Trapped, an old Kevin Bacon/Charlize Theron flick, and took our first bite. Yum. Onto the wine. I took a sip and nearly cried. It was perfect, like a peapod reunited with its italian sausage peas.

The rosso was a voluptuous maroon color, obviously full-bodied with fantastic legs. It was graceful on the tongue, in no hurry to leave. Soft and simple, reminiscent of a pinot noir up front. There was a slight kick on the inhale, but we couldn't pick out any distinct flavors. Perhaps it's because the bottle didn't give us any hints. Though not very complex, the tuttobene was sweetly satisfying at the finish and an ideal companion for spicy sausage. Caitlin suggested we go back and buy a case. I would, but that might make for a pretty boring wine blog.

Echelon 2007 Pinot Noir

Restaurant week in DC, and Meg was in town. I made a rez at Oya, a swanky Eurasian place in Chinatown for dinner. Three courses and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc later, we braved the sardine metro experience back to Friendship Heights. We decided to open a bottle to enjoy in our PJs, so I looked for the mellowest choice on the rack. It was this pinot noir, which I got (on sale) for a meager $5.66 at the supermarket behind campus.

The front label reads "Vin de Pays de l'ile de Beaute," which from what I could gather is just a phrase used to identify certain country wines grown in Corsica. It is 87% pinot noir and 13% other Rhone varietals. While the grapes are French, the wine itself is blended in Sonoma.

The first thing I noticed about this one was the color - almost a transparent ruby brown in the light. It glided in light and smooth up front, as expected, and left a dry kick on the back of the tongue. On inhale, the words "hollow" and "metallic" came to mind. (Secret: I am actually drinking the last glass from the bottle right now, while eating leftover scallops from dinner last night, and it is strange. This wine combines with the lingering scallop flavor and it tastes like I'm sipping spare change. Not the worst thing that has ever happened in my mouth, but I don't recommend the pairing.) The label says it's fruity, and I guess that's true.

I'd definitely buy this again for the $5 price tag.