Bordeaux Blancs: Silver Threads in a Sea of Reds

March 16, 2018

Once upon a time, the Bordeaux region produced more white wine than red. Unless you are well over 50 or of a scholarly bent, I suspect that statement comes as a surprise. Nevertheless, it’s true: It wasn’t until the 1970s that red wine production surpassed white in Bordeaux, and it hasn’t looked back since. Now white varieties account for less than 10% of the total Bordeaux vineyards – though that still amounts to over 42 million bottles of white wine a year.

Numbers like that seriously challenge our notions of winemaking as an artisanal activity, but wine has long been big business in Bordeaux. Back in the heyday of white Bordeaux, dry wines like the white Haut Brion and sweet wines like Château Yquem were the style- and price-leaders of the region. Good Sauternes have held onto a diminished market share and an undiminished reputation, and no one questions the greatness of Haut Brion blanc, but most producers of dry white Bordeaux have to scrabble hard for shelf space these days.

Image from The New Sotheby’s Wine Encyclopedia. Click to enlarge.

To cast some light on this neglected sector of the wine universe, the Wine Media Guild devoted its March meeting to exploring a broad spectrum of whites from throughout the entire Bordeaux zone: That is, from both sides of the river Gironde and its tributaries, the Garonne and the Dordogne, as well as from the northern tip of the Medoc peninsula to about 50 miles south of the city of Bordeaux. This covered a lot of ground and many different wines, all of which were thoroughly explained by the WMG member-organizer of the event, Mary Gorman-McAdams, MW.

The appellations involved included the largest, Bordeaux Blanc, representing roughly 60% of the production, and from anywhere in the zone, and the next largest, Entre-Deux-Mers. The latter is an exclusively white-wine-producing zone lying between the Garonne and Dordogne: It accounts for about 20% of the production. Also included were representatives of much smaller appellations, including several Côtes, for example, Côtes de Blaye and Côtes de Bourg: All the Côtes together account for about 3% of the white wine production. The most prestigious zones remain Graves (5%) and Pessac-Leognan (3%). The latter used to be comprehended within the Graves, and its wines have always been among the very best of all the appellations.

The Wine Media Guild tasting ran to 30 wines, none older than the 2013 vintage and the majority from 2016. The complete tasting sheets, showing each wine, its vintage, its grape mix, importer, and suggested retail price, is appended to the end of this post. A quick look at it will show that the predominant grape varieties in Bordeaux blanc are Sauvignon blanc – the heavy favorite, with even a few 100% Sauvignon blanc wines – and Semillon, with a small amount of Muscadelle and/or Sauvignon gris occasionally used.

Most suggested retail prices are very reasonable, which is appropriate, because the great majority of these wines are pleasing companions to everyday meals. That is emphatically not damning with faint praise: The world needs more well-made, simple wines like many of these, at prices that ordinary human beings can afford; and the recent up-tick in American consumption of white Bordeaux may very well reflect a growing perception of their value-for-dollar ratio.

I am not a super-fan of Sauvignon blanc, not even in its Old-World manifestations, which tend to be more subdued (less cat’s pee) and more elegant than the New World versions. But I do think that blending Sauvignon with Semillon makes a wine that is better than the sum of its parts, so most of the wines at this tasting easily passed muster, and a few really spoke to me. Enthusiasts for Sauvignon will probably rate all these wines even higher.

Château Carbonnieux has long been a favorite of mine, and the 2015 vintage in this tasting did not disappoint. It had a combination of depth and elegance and balance that seemed to indicate it would be gorgeous in two or three more years.

Right up there with it was Château Brown, an unmemorably named wine that, as a colleague remarked, usually flies under the radar. This 2014 vintage was just lovely and kept opening in the glass, showing more and more fruit and structure.

I’d give the bronze for this tasting to the 2015 Clos Floridene, a balanced and gentle wine of real charm. These three – and a few others – are more than just everyday-dinner wines – though, come to think of it, they would do just fine with a good chicken, or a turkey thigh.


You can see the complete Wine Media Guild list here.

One Fine Wine: Di Meo Fiano di Avellino 2012

March 5, 2018

This is the first of what I intend to be an intermittent series of short posts about individual wines I’ve recently enjoyed. Diane and I drank the bottle named above, a Di Meo Fiano di Avellino 2012, with a relatively simple dinner of snapper soup (brought home from a trip to Cape May) and filets of John Dory (brought home from our local Citarella). The nutty, mineral scent of the wine tempted from the first pour – and then the wine itself stood up and kissed the soup and danced with the fish and kept growing more interesting as it opened in the glass. We finished the bottle easily and looked around for more.

Fiano is, without qualification, a great white variety, as fine as Riesling or Chardonnay, and in the vineyards around Avellino, high up – 550 meters up for Di Meo – in the complex volcanic soils of those hills, it achieves its maximum expression.

Writing some time ago about the wines of Campania, I said that some day wine lovers would regard the Avellino zone with the same reverence they accord Burgundy’s Côte d’Or. Every time I open a bottle like this Fiano, I feel that even more strongly:  This simply is a world-class white wine.

Fiano is never as fat on the palate as a white Burgundy: It’s linear, and often more subtly elegant, with a fine nut (hazelnut and almond) and mineral-inflected complexity that grows more intriguing with every year of bottle age. About a year ago, Diane and I drank (with friends to help) a magnum of Di Meo’s 2000 Fiano di Avellino, and it was spectacular, showing not the slightest sign of senility and all the signs of depth and all the layered flavors that mineral-laced soils and mature fruit (lots of dry pear and hazelnut) can convey.

Di Meo is becoming something of an aged Fiano specialist, but the natural structure of the Fiano variety is such that almost any well-made Fiano di Avellino will mature beautifully, if you can keep yourself from enjoying it while it’s still young.

In addition to all its natural advantages of soil, site, altitude, and climate, the Avellino zone is blessed with a throng of passionate and knowledgeable winemakers. In addition to Di Meo’s, you can find excellent Fiano di Avellino from Cantina del Barone, Ciro Picariello, Donnachiara, Feudi di San Gregorio, Mastroberardino, Pietracupa, Tenuta Sarno, Terredora, Urciuolo, Villa Diamante, Villa Matilde, Villa Raiano and probably a few others I’ve forgotten.

When next you buy some, try squirreling a few bottles away in some corner where you can forget them for a few years: They’re worth the wait.


Cucco: A Great Barolo Cru Lost and Found Again

February 22, 2018

In as intensively cultivated a wine zone as Barolo it’s rare for an important cru to drop out of sight for a couple of decades, but one did. Cascina Cucco, as it was traditionally known, was long regarded as a major site for fine Barolo. Renato Ratti’s pioneering 1976 Carta del Barolo ranked it just below the top crus of Serralunga, and Slow Food’s 1990 Wine Atlas of the Langhe continued to esteem it, albeit mostly in the past tense, with nary a word about its then owners or produce:

Below and alongside the village of Cerrati lie the vineyards of Cucco and Posteirone.… Cucco used to belong to Dottor Giuseppe Cappellano, a celebrated figure in the world of Barolo, who was quick to acquire this superb plot when the opportunity arose. It is on the eastern flank of Serralunga and Nebbiolo has always been at home on its white, tufaceous soil. The grapes yield a Barolo with outstanding structure, capable of aging in the cellar for many years.

Barolo crus near Serralunga, from Wine Atlas of the Langhe

In the more recent and highly detailed Masnaghetti maps of the crus of Barolo, the cellars of Cascina Cucco are listed, but the cru designation Cucco has disappeared from the map. As successive owners of the vineyards ignored the Barolo boom and essentially neglected their vineyards, the reputation of its wines faded and it apparently slipped from the collective wine consciousness, a classic instance of sic transit gloria mundi.

Fast forward to 2012, when the Rossi Cairo family acquired the property. The Rossi Cairos had for more than a decade been producing excellent Gavi on their biodynamic, Demeter-certified vineyard La Raia, and they saw a wealth of potential in the splendidly located Cucco site. From what I know of the land situation in the Barolo and Barbaresco zones, properties like this are very rarely available, so the family was wise indeed to leap at the opportunity.

Realizing the need for direct involvement in anything as complex as a Barolo-producing estate, Piero Rossi Cairo, the son of the new owner, gave up his legal career, began educating himself about enology and vineyard management, and assumed responsibility for beginning the newly renamed Tenuta Cucco’s conversion to organic and eventually biodynamic production.

Two weeks ago, Piero and his importer, Vinifera, hosted a tasting and luncheon here in New York to introduce the family’s wines. It was clear from the start that Piero was no dilettante winemaker. He is passionate and knowledgeable about the organic approach to grape-growing, both its virtues and its limitations. And he spoke warmly of his neighbors, particularly of Franco Massolino of the bordering Massolino estate. I know from my own experience that in addition to the excellence of the wine he makes, Franco knows as much about Barolo as any grower in the zone, and he is as open and generous with his knowledge as any newcomer to the zone could possibly hope for. The Rossi Cairo family bought far more luckily than they realized when they acquired Cucco.

Piero showed seven wines that day, starting with two Gavi: La Raia 2015 and La Raia Riserva 2015. These were two fine whites, the regular bottling light, soft, and fresh, with light citrus and melon fruit, and the Riserva strikingly different. It seemed much more intense, with a fat, buttery, white fruit nose and a palate that followed through point for point: very smooth and buttery in the mouth, with a very long finish. Neither wine saw any wood – stainless steel throughout – but the Riserva came from 60- to 70-year-old vines, and its must stayed on the lees for a year, hence that pronounced butteriness. I thought them both impressive.

The basic Cucco Barolo 2013 came next, and it showed very characteristically of Serralunga Nebbiolo – black cherry, tar, and tobacco on the nose, in the mouth abundant but soft tannins riding alongside black cherry, earth and mineral notes, with another very long finish. This wine received a prolonged maceration on the skins – 25 days – which may account both for the softness of its tannins and the richness of its flavor.

Piero and his family had little role in the growing of Cucco Barolo 2012, but were largely responsible for its handling in the cellar. This was an impressive wine, similar in general to the 2013, I thought, but markedly more intense, especially in the aroma. On the palate, I found it soft and accessible, beautifully balanced, and already drinking very enjoyably, with a long licorice-and-black-cherry finish. In short, a lovely wine.

The cru wine, 2012 Barolo Cerrati, spent some time in French barriques, but I detected no oakiness in the wine – just the classic Barolo black cherry, earth, mineral, and underbrush. It was smooth on the palate, with evident tannin that needs a little time to soften. But the flavor package was classic: black cherry, earth, and mushroom, with a long, rich, black fruit finish. This is an excellent wine that will evolve and open for years yet, maybe decades.

Piero also showed two older wines, vinified well before the Rossi Cairo family’s acquisition of the estate, to show us what had attracted them to it. The 2007 Cucco seemed a good, sound middle-range Barolo in both heft and quality, while the 1995 was very elegant, very graceful and balanced, while still in no way big. Lovely wines on a sort of smallish Barolo scale. But heft and authority will come, I think, with more attentive field work of the sort the family has already begun, so the future for this once-famed site seems bright indeed. For an old Barolo lover, it is a pleasure indeed to witness this sort of resurrection in progress.

2013 Brunello: Classic Elegance

February 8, 2018

The yearly exposition of new releases from a representative selection of producers of Brunello di Montalcino recently visited New York. For journalists and members of the wine trades, this is an important and much-anticipated event: Most of us can’t get to Montalcino for the full-scale showing of the current vintage, so this is our only chance to taste a broad spectrum of what has become one of Italy’s most important wines.

Manhattan’s Gotham Hall, where the event takes place, becomes the site of an up-scale scrum as at each producer’s table we press first for a taste and then for the spit bucket. It’s not an elegant scene – but fortunately the wine is, and this year’s new release, the 2013 vintage, was especially elegant.

That wasn’t entirely a surprise: The best Brunellos have always shown great elegance and restraint. But in the past, as new releases and young wines, they were never as accessible as this vintage showed itself to be. Across the board, the wines I tasted that late January morning all felt soft on the palate and were very pleasantly drinkable.

This is a remarkable change from young Brunellos of yore: Tasting them was a penitential exercise, a lot like chewing a nice mouthful of toothpicks, so prickly and tannic were they. You looked for signs that they would evolve over the years into wines of elegance and breed: you never expected to taste those qualities then and there. That I was able to do so on this occasion provides a sharp reminder of how much Brunello, and Italian wine in general, has evolved in the years since its first irruption into commercial importance in this country and the world market.

Forty years ago, there were only a handful of producers in the whole Brunello di Montalcino zone, and the wine, though prestigious, was not well known or widely available even in Italy. Today, the Brunello Consorzio has 208 members, representing 98% of the growers and producers in the zone.

They cultivate about 2100 hectares (roughly, 5300 acres) of Sangiovese vines to make a wine that is now sold all around the world: 70% of all Brunello is exported, a very large chunk of it to the United States, which is probably its largest single market (if you think of the US as a single market).

That explosion of production came about because Brunello is a great wine that has been steadily improving. How those improvements came about was the subject of some (largely pointless) discussion at the seminar session that preceded the Gotham Hall scrum.

There are some obvious answers, of course: temperature-controlled fermentation, improved field treatment, better clones of Sangiovese to work with, and so on. I was struck that no one mentioned phenolic ripeness, which is crucial to a wine’s success, so I asked about it. I didn’t really get an answer that told me anything: From all that was said, Brunello producers could be achieving phenolic ripeness – as they obviously most beautifully did in the 2013 vintage – by accident. I most certainly do not believe that, but I received no enlightenment on the subject.

By that as it may, the answer to all important questions is always in the bottle. Here are the 2013 Brunellos I tasted at the seminar, along with my personal ratings of them:

Talenti * * * * *
A long-time high-achiever among Brunello producers, Talenti (whose consulting enologist Carlo Ferrini is one of the most respected names in Tuscan wine) continues to rank among the top few every year. This bottle sported scents of dark fruit and earth and a little tannic woodiness. In the mouth it was big (despite an alcohol level of 14 degrees, low among the wines in this tasting), round, and soft, with classic Brunello flavors and a long, long finish. An excellent wine, and surprisingly accessible – as all would show themselves to be.

Val di Suga * * * * ½
A largish estate, with 55 hectares of Sangiovese in 3 different exposures around the zone. They are fermented separately, some to be bottled as cru and some to be blended to produce a very fine “basic” Brunello. This example had a deeply herbal and black-fruit nose and seemed mid-weight on the palate, very harmonious and elegant.

Barbi * * * *
A Montalcino old-timer, Barbi was among the pioneers of Brunello and still remains one of its most important and most traditional producers. This wine was lovely: black cherry, mint, and earth on the nose; soft tannins and subdued acidity on the palate, with very persistent, restrained fruit. The style of Barbi’s wines is consistently what is called in Italian rustico-elegante, which could probably be accurately rendered in English as “country elegant.”

Le Chiuse * * * *

From vineyards on the northeast (300 meters above sea level) and southeast (500 meters) slopes of the Montalcino hill. Similar on the nose to the Barbi wine, with sweet black cherry fruit on the palate. Soft, restrained, and elegant, with a fine, long finish.

Il Palazzone * * * *

The grapes for this wine originate in three different vineyards, one in the north of the Brunello zone and two in the south – very different soils, exposures, and microclimates. The nose gives black cherry and a little earth. It’s biggish in the mouth, but balanced, soft, and elegant, with a long dark-fruit finish. Quite fine.

La Magia * * * ½

A smallish estate, with a 15-hectare block of Sangiovese at 400-450 meters above sea level. The wine seemed in all respects quite similar to Il Palazzone, but not quite as refined.

San Polo Brunello Riserva 2012
This lone 2012 served nicely to point up the differences between the two vintages. This estate is owned by the Allegrini family of Valpolicella and Amarone fame, and the wine was very well made, as all Allegrini wines are. But the very warm 2012 weather showed through in a slightly baked aroma and some biting tannins, which contrasted sharply with the smoothness, softness, and elegance of the 2013s. The 2012s are probably more powerful, so if you like big wines, 2012 is probably your vintage. But if you like your Brunellos balanced and harmonious, the cooler growing season of 2013 has made your wine.

In addition to the above-named wines, I was also able, at the scrum, to get quick tastes of the 2013s of Altesino, Banfi and its Poggio alle Mura, Castello Romitorio and its Filo di Seta, Col d’Orcia, Il Paradiso di Frassina, Il Poggione, La Fiorita, and Uccelliero. While I wasn’t able to give these wines the attention I gave the seminar wines, it was nevertheless clear that they were of the same quality (my ratings fell between 3.5 and 4.5 stars) and – even more important – of the same style: accessible, enjoyable, and elegant. Very, very classic Brunello, and a delight to drink.

Chiarlo Double Anniversary

January 29, 2018

Some formal dinners are memorable because of the food, some because of the wine, and some because of the occasion. The recent Chiarlo Double Anniversary Dinner sponsored by Kobrand at Casa Apicii in New York’s Greenwich Village did the hat trick and scored on all three counts. Michele Chiarlo, one of the trailblazing generation of Piedmontese winemakers, celebrated his 60th harvest and his 40th year of being imported to the US by Kobrand by presenting a fine tasting of the Barbera and Barolo for which he is famous.

He capped that with a dinner in which the chef Vincenzo La Corte from Chiarlo’s estate hotel, Palas Cerequio, teamed with chef Andrew Bosi of Casa Apicii. Together, they presented a classic Piedmontese meal adorned with Alba white truffles and culminating with braised veal cheeks accompanied by a glorious and utterly appropriate on several counts 1978 Chiarlo Barolo. I count myself very fortunate to have been among the handful of journalists present.


In his preliminary remarks, Michele Chiarlo surveyed the many changes he has seen since he took over from his father in 1958. As he rightly said, Italian wine the late 50s and early 60s was a very different world. Emphasis everywhere – even in the Piedmont, now seen as the pinnacle of Italian quality wine production – was on quantity: making a lot of wine to sell fast and cheap. Only gradually did the situation evolve, as attention turned to reducing yields and raising quality, and only gradually did the technology that is now taken for granted enter the Piedmont: stainless steel, temperature-controlled fermentation, establishing phenolic ripeness before harvesting, crop thinning.

That last was the most difficult. It was initially regarded as scandalous to throw away good grapes. But Chiarlo and others like him persisted. His fellow attendees at the University of Torino’s enological school are a roll call of the pioneers of quality Italian wine; e.g.,Renato Ratti, Ezio Rivella, and Giacomo Tachis.

In addition to his early emphasis on quality, Chiarlo’s great technical innovation was the achievement of malolactic fermentation in Barbera, which had long been considered impossible. But with the help of the enology faculty in Beaune (it was a visit to Burgundy that prompted him to try this), he found a reliable method for inducing malo with Barbera – and this, as Chiarlo rightly said, created a renaissance for Barbera, making it the satisfying wine for all foods that it is today.

After his remarks, attention turned to tasting the wines.

First, three Barberas: Nizza DOCG Cipressi 2015, Nizza DOCG La Court 2013, and Nizza DOCG La Court 2011. The youngest showed a grapey, blackberry nose: It was smooth and velvety in the mouth, with pleasing blackberry fruit and excellent acidity, with fine balance – a thoroughly enjoyable wine. Stylistically, the other two wines followed suit, while displaying deeper flavors and greater elegance. The 2013, a year of fabulous weather, may have been the best: It certainly seems to promise long life at a peak of drinkability.


Then came three vintages of Barolo Cerequio – 2013, 2001, 1997. All three were superb vintages, and Cerequio is one of the great crus, lying midway between La Morra and Barolo. Chiarlo farms nine hectares of it, but uses only two parcels for the cru bottling. The 2013 had a deep, earthy, woody, black fruit nose and tasted cherry/berry on the palate, with lovely acid/tannin balance – an elegant middleweight. Though 12 years older, the 2001 seemed lighter, brighter, and fresher, beautifully balanced and elegant. Chiarlo has always striven for elegance, and these Barolos showed how well he has achieved it.

The 1997 stood midway between the other two wines in all respects. This vintage at the time was trumpeted as a wonder, but recently I’ve tasted a lot of 97s from other producers that have already begun to fade. Not this one, however: it’s still lively and seems to have many years before it.

After a small pause – a chance to refresh our palates with a glass of Taittinger Comtes de Champagne – we arrived at dinner and its much-awaited white truffles. No disappointment there, and none with the wines, which played up splendidly to the truffles’ intense aromas.

The Barbera d’Asti DOCG 2015 Le Orme was simply splendid, for my palate the best Barbera of the evening, and in its clarity of Barbera character a benchmark for the breed. The Barolo DOCG 2013 Tortoniano worked beautifully with one of the best risottos I’ve eaten: The harmony of this match was excellent.


Finally, the 1978 matched perfectly with the richness of the veal cheek. This was the wine of the night, and it deserved its climactic position. I remember (I know I’m dating myself) when the ‘78s were first released, it seemed as if they would never be ready to drink, so hard and closed were they. Well, they are at last ready, and this one at least was glorious, with all the character, complexity, and depth one looks for in Barolo, and with – apparently – years, if not decades, of life still before it. A fantastic accomplishment, and a fitting cap to Michele Chiarlo’s anniversary feast.


A far less joyous note: Another Piedmont pioneer has passed away. Bruno Giacosa, famed for his Barolo and Barbaresco, especially his cru riservas, died peacefully on January 22. Sit terra levis tibi, Bruno.

More Splendid Caparone Cal-Itals

January 15, 2018

Caparone Vineyards, in Paso Robles, continues to impress me mightily. Some time back I wrote in praise of its 2002 Aglianico, Nebbiolo, and Sangiovese, the most delicious and elegant California versions of those varieties I’ve ever tasted. Recently I’ve had the opportunity to taste bottles of the same grapes from the 2014 vintage, and I was almost reduced to a barely articulate Oh wow!  (Be assured: My normal verbosity quickly reasserted itself.)

Naturally, these younger wines were not as complex or developed as their older relatives – but the vines are older too, and that adds dimension to even a newly released wine. These were all beautiful specimens of their varieties. They seemed perfectly worthy of standing on the table with the best young examples of their kinds I’ve had in Italy, though patently different from them in the character of their fruit and their balance.


The Sangiovese showed a brilliant light garnet, very pleasing to the eye. The nose came across as all underbrush and fresh red fruit. The palate tasted youthful – bright cherry – with medium body and a lively acid/tannin balance. The overall impression was freshness and elegance, spot-on for young Sangiovese. This wine differed from a young Chianti, for instance, in being not so markedly acid-forward: It was also slightly fuller-bodied, with more generous fruit. The latter quality I think of as quintessential California.

It’s worth noting, since this is a young wine, that it got better and more interesting as it opened in the glass. What it will do with some years of maturity makes for very pleasant speculation. The Caparones aren’t given to exaggeration or over-hyping their wines, but their back label claims that this wine (and its sibling Aglianico and Nebbiolo) “will continue to age for 25 years or more.”  I’m not likely to be able to test that statement, but I sure hope some of you will.

It’s also worth noting that the alcohol level of this wine is a modest 13.3 degrees — by current California standards, almost a soft drink.


I enjoyed the Nebbiolo just as much, but it was an animal of different stripe. Its color was a pale garnet, with a thin orange edge, perhaps to an eye unused to Nebbiolo suggesting it’s already old and fading. Far from it: this wine was an infant, tasting of fresh berries (strawberries kept peeping out) and earth. It had good acidity and very soft tannins, with low – by California standards, very low – alcohol: 13 degrees – and a long licorice and leather finish. But what really grabbed my attention right from the start was the aroma: Damned if it didn’t smell delicately of tar and dried roses and earth. That’s textbook Alba Nebbiolo, folks, and I am in awe of a New World wine capturing that quality of this great, cantankerous grape.

One major difference between Caparone’s Nebbiolo and any young Barolo or Barbaresco I’ve experienced: No Piedmont Nebbiolo would be as pleasant drinking as this wine at first release. In many vintages, a Piedmont Nebbiolo’s tannins would rip your throat out. Even 2004, which was – and is – a great vintage and a very forward one, was much sterner and more sharply tannic at a comparable age. We’ve all always assumed that such early toughness was a necessary concomitant to the structure that made long aging possible – but if David and Marc Caparone are right about the aging potential of their wine, then received wisdom has been dead wrong about that. And that should give us all – consumer, critics, and producers alike – a lot to think about.


The 2014 Aglianico certainly gave me a lot to think about. The darkest, most deeply colored of the three varieties, it also had the most intense aroma: earth, toasted nuts (hazel? almond?), and rich, black, plummy fruit. The earth and black plum flavors emphatically followed through on the palate – just huge fruit flavors, understrapped by lovely acid/tannin balance. The tannins were abundant, but soft, making a well-structured and long-finishing wine, but also a very accessible, enjoyably drinking wine, even so young.

With food, the flavor components rounded and broadened and deepened remarkably, revealing an extraordinary balance and structure, yet still soft and open. Diane and I were bowled over: We thought this a wine destined for greatness. And, oh, by the way, it was only 13 degrees of alcohol, which ought to be a slap in the face of all those overblown California wines that substitute big alcohol for any real winemaking quality.

I’ve never particularly wanted to live to any great age, but the way the Caparones make wine is causing me to think again about that. .

Dave Caparone at his tasting room, with Tom’s whilom student and old friend Magda Gilewicz. Photo by Mike Chen



A Paler Shade of Bubble: Blanc de Blancs Champagne

January 1, 2018

This year’s New York Wine Press annual Champagne luncheon went to the opposite end of the Champagne color spectrum from the Wine Media Guild’s Rosé event in the preceding week. It presented ten Blanc de Blancs Champagnes and one stray-but-interesting English sparkling wine, all surrounding an unusual menu executed by Café Centro’s chef Christina Towers.

This was, quite evidently, an enjoyable and delicious affair, and each of the wines interacted handsomely with the slightly-off-the-beaten-track dishes. Naturally, I had my favorites: I’m nothing if not judgmental, and half the pleasure of an event like this for me is the chance to draw fine distinctions in character and pleasingness.

I insist on “pleasingness,” and not “quality,” because the quality of all these wines was very high, and what I am really talking about is how well, on this one special occasion, each wine seemed to my palate. As I’ve said many times in this blog, that’s all any tasting note really is: None is the sacred scripture engraved on stone that so many consumers take them for. End of sermon.

Of the two fine aperitif Champagnes, I preferred the Deutz – but then I often prefer Deutz, a house much esteemed in Europe but not so well known here. This 2007 showed splendidly, with all the nimbleness you hope for in a blanc de blancs, plus the impressive austerity and subtle power so characteristic of Deutz.

The diverse flavors of the first course could have proven a serious challenge for many wines, but they integrated quite harmoniously in themselves and worked surprisingly well with all three wines. Gusbourne, the English sparkler (for those who may not have gotten the memo, English sparkling wine has been making great advances in recent years), was the lightest-bodied of the three, with juicy wheat-and-yeast flavors on the palate and good minerality.

The Collet also showed as light and wheaty, lean, lithe, and fresh on the palate, with a very long finish – quite enjoyable. The Henriot, a non-vintage Champagne, tasted just gorgeous. Vinified from Grands Crus vineyards, it was classic Henriot – big and structured and graceful. For me, it was the wine of the day. In the New York area, it seems to average between $55 and $65 a bottle, a very decent price for a Champagne of this quality.

The second course again could have presented serious challenges to wine matches, with its pastis-flavored-and-colored risotto, but all three Champagnes responded very well. The nice, substantial Drappier was a touch unusual in that it contained 4% Pinot blanc (not at all discernible  to the taste). The Pol Roger 2009 made the strongest showing of the three, partially because of the good vintage and partially because of its Pol Roger character, suave and authoritative.

The final beef course should have been the most difficult for any blanc de blancs wine to deal with, but once again the Champagnes rose to the challenge. All drank well with the filet steak and the delicious short ribs in crust, though – truth to tell – both the Taitinger ’95 and the Heidsieck ’95 tasted a tad too old. Whether they were in fact beginning to fade, or whether beef just didn’t bring out their best, I couldn’t really tell.

The slightly younger – vintage 2000 – Perrier-Jouet on the other hand was a lovely, floral, elegant Christmas gift, the most enjoyable wine of the flight. Which it ought to be, given its stratospheric price (around $250). And that makes a suitably high note on which to end this report.

A Happy New Year to all!






All I Want For Christmas . . .

December 21, 2017

. . . is that we bury, finally and for all time, the fiction that Italian white wines can’t age. Enough knowledgeable writers have tried, for at least the last decade, to tell consumers otherwise, that I would have thought by now that this piece of misinformation had died a natural death, but nevertheless I keep hearing it, and often enough from people who ought to know better.

So, as what I hope will be one more nail in its coffin, my Christmas gift for all worthy winos will be an account of my recent experience with two very different Italian white wines, both of the 2000 vintage.

I have long had in my “cellar” (regular readers will understand the quotation marks) a single bottle of Bucci Verdicchio 2000. Too long, in fact: This is a wine that was meant to be drunk years ago, but somehow it kept getting passed over.

Ampelio Bucci

Bucci is, in my opinion, the best producer of Verdicchio in the Marches, and Verdicchio is probably one of the most underestimated and underesteemed of all the Italian white wines – at least in this country. Ampelio Bucci is a charming and patient man: That patience sustained him for many years in dealing with his enologist, the brilliant but difficult and quirky Giorgio Grai.

Grai is – or was – nearly legendary in northern Italy for his skill in crafting long-aging white wines, and he guided the yield of Bucci’s vineyards into two forms, a “simple” Verdicchio, designed for youthful drinking, and a more complex Villa Bucci Verdicchio Riserva, designed for longer aging. I have drunk many 10-year-olds of the riserva, and they were uniformly lovely – fresh and deep, with Verdicchio’s characteristic pear, apple, and mineral flavors beautifully balanced against a restrained acidity.

But the wine I am talking about now isn’t that one: It’s the basic Verdicchio, the wine meant for being drunk young. Somehow it hadn’t been, and once its “use by” date had in my mind passed, I kept leaving it behind on the assumption that it was probably already dead or dying. So, recently, when Diane and I were having an unusually fancy first course (American Osetra caviar) with a light dinner of omelets, I decided to dispose of the bottle once and for all. Carefully chilling a back-up bottle of white Burgundy, I poured the 17-year-old Bucci, fully expecting to taste it and dump it.

Boy, was I wrong! The wine looked old, but pretty – golden amber and translucent. Its aroma was intriguing – very lively, with some floral notes but mostly complex mineral scents, like flint and chalk and slate. In the mouth, it felt light, balanced, and live – still that restrained acidity so typical of Bucci, sustaining complex flavors of unripe pears, untoasted almonds, and the ever-present mineral notes, with a pleasing butteriness in the finish. We were amazed, and our pleasure only grew as the wine opened further in the glass and responded beautifully to the very different challenges of caviar and omelets. This was not just a great Verdicchio, it was a great white wine from anywhere, of any age.

That was my instance of unplanned-for glorious longevity. My second wine story, a Di Meo Fiano di Avellino Selezione Erminia 2000, is the very opposite – in terms of planning, not quality. This is a wine that was designated for long aging right from the start, and only quite recently acquired by me.

The Di Meo family tends high-altitude vineyards (around 550 meters) in the most prized wine-making part of Campania, the Fiano, Greco, and Taurasi zones surrounding Avellino.

Generoso, Erminia, and Roberto Di Meo

The harvest of 2000 in most of Italy was a good one: in some places too hot, but in most bringing the grapes to a perfect point of ripeness, with fruit, sugar, acid, and tannins in excellent balance. That year, as an experiment in aging their indigenous white wines, the Di Meos selected a particular plot of Fiano within one of their best vineyards for special treatment to test how well a traditionally made white wine could age.

The grapes of this plot stayed on the vines longer than others of that harvest, not to super-ripeness, but definitely beyond the hang time for ordinary vinification. Then they underwent a long maceration period before soft pressing and low-temperature fermentation in steel. After that, the wine rested on its fine lees for a whole year, still in steel, before being racked off to repose in more steel and then bottle for a total of 13 more years before release.

This wine never saw a piece of wood, and its purity showed clearly in every sip. Fiano is a great grape, and the Avellino zone its heartland. My bottle was a magnum, but even allowing for that, its freshness was astonishing. Lovely aromas of underbrush and soil, a harmonious palate of white fruits and nuts – hazelnut especially – and long, lingering finish of dried fruit, mostly pear, all encased in an elegant package. Just a gorgeous wine, with years, maybe decades of life still before it. (WTSO – Wines Til’ Sold Out – has twice recently offered this wine in this vintage, and may do so again.)

I hope everyone reading this gets the chance to taste wines similar to these – often. That’s my Christmas wish for you. If you haven’t enjoyed it yet, it’s the kind of experience that will completely revise your notion of what white wine is all about.

Buone Feste, tutti!

I’m Blushing

December 11, 2017

By and large, I am not a great fan of blush wines, but I do make a large exception for rosé Champagne. It’s not just that it looks attractive: Contrary to still rosé wines, rosé Champagnes tend to be a little bigger, a little fuller, and to taste more of the grapes they’re made from than do the basic Champagne blends, or even Blanc de blancs.

That’s because Champagne is a wine of process and only secondarily – in most cases, a far distant secondarily – of the grapes or their terroir. I guess it’s because of the greater assertiveness of red grapes, or maybe because of the necessary fact of skin contact with the musts in the making of rosé, that rosé Champagnes show more of both their grapes and their terroir than does any other kind of Champagne. And there’s no question that – again, by and large – rosé Champagne is the most adaptable with food: It is for me the dinner Champagne.

All of this was forcefully and very enjoyably brought home for me at this year’s Wine Media Guild Champagne lunch, which spotlighted 22 examples of rosé Champagnes.

The annual event occurred this year at mid-Manhattan’s Gattopardo restaurant, where the excellent cooking has a decidedly Sicilian bent. Not a very natural fit for Champagne, you might think, and you wouldn’t be wrong, but the afternoon’s rosés took it nicely in stride, drinking very pleasantly alongside everything from mini-arancini through rigatoni with eggplant to juicy, tender slices of veal filet, fingerling potatoes, and broccoli rape. Every wine I tasted showed well with these to-them-very-foreign foods. There aren’t many other – probably none, in fact – such characteristically French wines I would try that with.

As he has for the past decade, Ed McCarthy, who has become almost a patron saint of Champagne, gathered and presented the wines, 15 nonvintage and 7 vintage, ranging in price from a low of around $45 to a high of around $300. (In computing prices, Ed didn’t take the distributors’ suggested retail prices but an average of the actual prices he found in local retail shops.)

The highest was Perrier-Jouet’s Belle Epoque Rosé 2006, a lovely wine and always among the most costly at these events. Definitely out of my price range, but unquestionably an excellent example of the breed. The best buy of the day was Lenoble Brut Rosé NV, a fresh and enjoyable wine from a small producer – which means that bargain hunters are going to have to work to find it. (Note: All the wines at this lunch are available on the American market, but distribution – especially for those of small production – can be very spotty.)

The vintage Champagnes of course were more expensive than most of the NV, the great majority of which fell into the $50-$60 range. One exception was Moet & Chandon’s Extra Brut Rosé 2009, which retails for about $65, and which Ed admired greatly, calling it “a very special wine,” even though he thought it still too young. At that price, it is a very special wine indeed.

Here is the whole list of the Champagnes in the order of their presentation, starting with the lightest:


Ayala Rosé Brut Majeur NV
Henri Giraud “Fut de Chene” Brut Rosé NV
Lamiable Grand Cru Brut Rosé NV
Phillipe Gonet Brut Rosé NV
Boizel Brut Rosé NV
Collet Brut Rosé NV
Duval-Leroy 1e Cru Brut Rosé NV

Mumm Brut Rosé NV
Henriot Brut Rosé NV
Piper-Heidsieck Sauvage Rosé NV
Lenoble Brut Rosé NV
Deutz Brut Rosé NV
Alfred Gratien Brut Rosé NV
Louis Roederer Brut Rosé 2011
Bollinger Brut Rosé NV
Moet & Chandon Extra Brut Rosé 2009
Charles Heidsieck Brut Rosé Reserve NV

Pol Roger Brut Rosé 2008
Perrier-Jouet Belle Epoque Rosé 2006
Taittinger Comtes Brut Rosé 2006
Ruinart Dom Ruinart Brut Rosé 2004
Veuve Clicquot Grande Dame Rosé 2006


These wines all showed very well: There wasn’t one I wouldn’t be happy to drink, especially with classic French cuisine. My favorite wines of the day were – predictably: I’m a creature of habit – all old reliables: Henriot, Gratien, and Roederer, followed closely by Moet & Chandon and Pol Roger.

Ed deserves the last word: His favorites (I infer from his audible enthusiasm: He tried his best to be impartial in his presentation) included Ayala, Mumm, Henriot, Gratien, Moet & Chandon, Charles Heidsieck, Pol Roger, and Ruinart. That may seem like a lot, but Ed really loves Champagne, and the truth of the matter is that he enjoyed every single one we tasted. He is an amateur of Champagne in the most literal sense of the word: Would that every wine lover could experience Champagne as passionately as he does.

Castello di Volpaia: A Tuscan Classic

November 30, 2017

Everyone knows that there are many fine Chianti Classico producers who, vintage after vintage, offer well-made wines redolent of lovely Sangiovese fruit and undertones of their various soils, wines that show what Italians call, most honorifically, tipicità. “Typicity,” in English, doesn’t quite capture it: Authenticity might be closer. One of the best of these lovely Chiantis, one of the most authentic and typical and, at the same time, most distinctive, is Castello di Volpaia.

If I had to choose just one place in the Chianti Classico to show a visitor what Tuscany once looked like, and what its enduring charm is, that place would be Castello di Volpaia. Its beauty, its serenity, immediately captures the imagination. It certainly holds a very special place in my heart as a quintessence of Tuscany. It’s not a castle in the same way Brolio is. Rather, it was in the Middle Ages a fortified village, a small walled town perched on a ridge in the commune of Radda, a bastion of Florence against its eternal enemy Siena.

Its serenity and tranquility came centuries later, as local warfare died down and peace and prosperity grew in the countryside. Over the years, portions of its walls and battlements were removed (a few remain), more houses were built, and the vineyards extended.

Since taking possession of the village in 1972, Giovanella Stianti and her architect husband Carlo Mascheroni have devoted their best efforts to preserving it and steadily improving the vineyards.  Signora Stianti’s father had acquired the property in the mid-60s and gave it to the couple as a wedding present. It has become their life-long passion.

Of the village, more later: Let’s speak now of the vineyards.

They were in pretty good shape to start with, since for some centuries the wine of Volpaia had been prized, but the family has systematically experimented with clones and root stocks and training systems to bring them among the best cultivated in the Classico zone, and they are what form the heart of Volpaia’s distinctiveness. First of all, they are high for this part of Tuscany, probably in fact the highest in the Classico zone, ranging from a low of about 450 meters to a high of about 650. That makes for a very long growing season, with big day-to-night temperature differentials, which in turn produces great aromatics in the wine.



Additionally, the soils in Volpaia’s vineyards contain much less clay and more sand than most other parts of the Classico. These contribute a distinctive set of trace elements to the wine. So the characteristic Volpaia wine is less full-bodied and forceful than many other Chiantis, but it is also and always more elegant, more nuanced, and – according to my experience – even in merely middling vintages more structured and capable of graceful bottle aging.

You can see why I love it: I’ll opt for elegance over power every time. Power impresses on the first taste, but over the course of a bottle it wears you out: It’s the same with every swallow. Elegance impresses on every taste. Over the course of a meal it adapts to and changes with each dish, becoming slightly different with each. For me, that’s fascinating, and that’s what Volpaia consistently delivers.

The estate produces several wines of note: Chianti Classico and Classico Riserva, of course, and several crus – notably Coltassala and Balefico. Balefico is Volpaia’s supertuscan, blending roughly one-third Cabernet and Merlot with its lovely Sangiovese. The other wines are all 90 to 100 percent Sangiovese, with, depending on the harvest, a small amount of Mammolo or Merlot blended in. (Riccardo Cottarella is the consulting enologist, well known for his passion for Merlot, which – I guess –is how it arrived on this proudly traditional property.)



For me and many other Tuscan wine fans, the Coltassala and the Chianti Classico Riserva are the superstars, wines of depth and nuance and, always, elegance. Over the past month, I’ve been drinking bottles of those two from several vintages – 2000, 2001, 2004, 2006 – and they have been without exception beautiful examples of what Sangiovese and great Tuscan winemaking are all about. They are all perfectly alive and vigorous, with years of bottle life before them – but about 15 years of age is when I like to drink them. It’s a sweet spot, where fresh fruit subsists beside the beginnings of more mature flavors and neither dominates. For me, that is pure pleasure.

Now the village of Volpaia. Signora Stianti and her husband built Volpaia’s modern winery, sheltering its components within existing medieval buildings and structures of the ancient town. Since this is a protected historic site, that meant that when, for instance, the piping for the winery was laid beneath the streets of Volpaia, every single cobble of each street had to be removed, numbered, and replaced in its exact location. The same care was exercised on the facades of every single building in the town, and the original appearance of the ancient streets was scrupulously preserved in its entirety. That is what has made Volpaia one of the most evocative spots in an area filled with fragments of ancient towns and castles.