Porter’s Wine Blog

The Great New World Syrah Showdown 2010

Northern Rhone Syrah Vines

Northern Rhone Syrah Vines

Four Syrahs in seven days…. I tried for seven Syrahs, but new world Syrah (second only to Malbec) is one of my least favorite types of wine so I find four to be both an overwhelming number and an admirable effort. The thing about New World Syrah is that each one seems to be imitating an Old World blue print, but imitating it poorly and without replacing what’s lacking with anything new.

How did the personal challenge turn out? Well, I didn’t get any “I <3 Syrah” tattoos, and I didn’t throw any of the bottles out the window onto the street (as I expected to do) so I’d consider it a smashing success! Here’s the rundown:

Quinta de Viluco Reserva Especial Syrah from the Maipo Valley, Chile 2005: $20… Dark fruit, dark chocolate, and a enormous body. Really, truly fun to taste. Between three people trying it, we finished the bottle, and I bought two more to pour at dinner parties. It was obviously working at being a Crozes-Hermitage, but failing at having any complexity.

The Wolftrap Syrah from the Western Cape of South Africa 2009: $15… Wow, this is ripe! Fruity, fruity, and fruitier, BUT it’s also smoky. Mostly, it’s really burnt apricot pits… and what is this? It has some Viognier (and Mourvedre) in it!? Ah, that explains the smoke even more than the South African heritage.  The Cote-Rotie in the northern Rhone of France is mostly Syrah with often just a little bit of Viognier in it. The name translates roughly as “The Roasted Coast” and the Viognier adds a little hint of citrus so the burnt apricot pits coming through in the Wolftrap make perfect sense in this context. I can’t say the Wolftrap was a good bottle, but I liked it- probably just because of the Viognier’s ability to add some finesse and make the wine fun to taste.  Two people, some quite sarcastic conversation, and most of the bottle finished.

Coriole Vineyard’s Redstone Shiraz from the Mclaren Vale of Australia 2005: $20… This wine was supposed to be a Cornas… again, a Northern Cotes-du-Rhone version of Syrah that has a very jammy, red fruit and spice quality to it. Of course, it’s not a Cornas; it is a quick-finishing Australian.  I didn’t like it, but I think that was mostly because I’m prejudiced against Australia.  It was easy, red, and boring… it actually tasted a lot like the movie Avatar (yes, I know my roommate and I are the only two people in the world who didn’t like it).

Barrister’s Syrah from the Columbia Valley of Washington 2004: $25… Hermitage is the flagship Syrah of the Northern Rhone. It was loved by Russians Tzars. The complete AOC produces fewer bottles than many highly sought after American brands of wine. More importantly, Hermitage tastes like coffee, leather, and chocolate, and it finishes (when aged correctly, i.e., 10+ years… even 50 years if you’re doing it right) like velvet. The Barrister tastes exactly like a Hermitage, but finishes with the finesse of a cup of cold bodega decaf.

The better question is why do I keep doing this to myself?


Merlot goes great with lamb…

Be it “Right Bank” Bordeaux US-grown clones, Merlot goes great with lamb. Tonight I’m enjoying a glass of Shinn Estates’ “Red” (which is so very obviously at least 60% Merlot… wait, let’s look it up… 75% Merlot!); the glass of wine by itself is forgettable, but the same glass of wine paired with a lamb stew, is fantastic!

Merlot can taste like a ridiculous number of fruits, but its claim to fame in my mouth is that it covers your mouth with flavor without covering your mouth with meal-disrupting tannin. Yes, it *can* age for 50 years when done “right,” or you can mistake its burliest examples for a well-made Cabernet. No, you can not count it out when you make something that needs wine paired with it.

Merlot comes in as a meal-savior when Cabernet presents its more-usual-than-I-would-like-it-to-be problem of being so often made for point scores and not for enjoyment. Cabernet gets covered in oak and tannin to impress critis, and Merlot quietly scoots by with a slick and creamy, yet still uplifting, palate of black and red fruits dusted in chocolate, bacon fat, and even green olives and tobacco.

Unless it’s December and you own a Kobe beef ranch, you should probably look to Merlot for your dinner parties before you look to Cabernet… if only so that you don’t get embarrassed when that’s what, I, your wine-snob friend brings for you!


Watch a video: Corbieres, an Elegant Funk…

We travel to Corbieres, a little region in the south of France, to taste a wine with a big reputation for “funky elegance.” Click here to watch the  Corbieres video.

Wines tasted: Cuvee Alice from Ollieux Romanis 2006


“How to read a Burgundy label!” or let’s breakdown Domaine Pierre Gelin Fixin 1er Cru Clos Napoleon 2004!

All the grapes in this bottle come from here!

Every bottle of Burgundy looks the same. I would even forgive someone if they couldn’t tell the difference between an unopened bottle of red Burgundy and an unopened bottle of white Burgundy! Tonight, I happen to be blessed with the opportunity to drink possibly the geekiest bottle of Burgundy ever produced (slight overstatement, but this wine label even threw me for a loop on first glance!) so I’m giving back to you by deciphering the label so that next time you’re staring blank-faced at a $30 bottle of Burgundy, you’ll be able to figure out at least a little about what you’re buying (or at least if the salesperson is a little qualified to recommend it to you).

Here’s what you need to know about any bottle of Burgundy:

The Appellation: The appellation is the “classification”/”quality” of a wine… and many believe it to be synonymous with the yumminess/awesomeness of a wine. The appellation (if you have a wine dictionary) will tell you almost everything you need to know… some people can decipher the appellation just from smelling a glass of Burgundy)… on this bottle we have “Fixin 1er Cru Clos Napoleon Monopole.”

The hierarchy of appellations goes as follows:

  • Bourgogne, i.e., the grapes came from a mix of places within Burgundy.
  • Village(s), i.e., the grapes came from a specific village in Burgundy, e.g., Gevrey-Chambertin, Volnay, Pommard, Mersault, etc. Red Burgundy basically (huge generalization) goes from most delicate/light in the south up to most powerful/brawny in the north.
  • Premier Cru (written as 1er Cru)- this designates that all the grapes came from a top vineyard as judged by history/the French government. If you get a bottle of this, you’re almost guaranteed to have a good (but maybe not life changing) bottle.
  • Grand Cru- this means that  you’re drinking some of the best wine in the world. No wine lover/snob/expert turns up their nose at a taste of Grand Cru Burgundy. Very few vineyards are designated as Grand Cru… many Burgundy drinkers can, off the top of their heads, all of the Grand Cru Burgundy vineyards, the vineyards they have tasted, and the vineyards they have not tasted.

So to breakdown what is in this bottle of Domaine Pierre Gelin Fixin 1er Cru Clos Napoleon 2004 Monopole that I’m drinking right now:

Red Burgundy (red Burgundy is 100% Pinot Noir almost always)… grown in the village of Fixin (fee-sin)… grown only in a top but not perfect Premier (1er) Cru vineyard… and here’s the kicker, grown in a vineyard only own by one producer, i.e., a monopole!

Most Burgundy producers share vineyard space with each other, but the “Clos Napoleon” vineyard is owned by only one person (”Monopoly”/Monopole) so there’s some serious reputation points on the line and in return some serious quality control.

It tastes like strawberry jam and stems, black cherry stems and leaves, and burnt salmon scales (grill a salmon and you’ll know the flavor… the happy way to say it would be toasted marshmallows)… it smells like carrots and beets. The finish is long enough that I’ve enjoyed the after effects of one sip for about a minute now, and the wine has gone from an 89 point wine to a 91+ point wine after two hours of breathing.


Pair the wine with the region!

Pair foods from a specific region with wines of a specific region. Wines from specific regions have been tailored over the last two thousand years to be wines that go well with the foods of the region in which the wines were grown; it’s only in the last fifty years or so that wine has traveled outside of the region in which it was made. 

That’s why, when I went to Pomme de Terre (a tiny, seasonal French bistro in my neighborhood), and had no idea what we were going to order from the menu, I brought a bottle of southern French white. It was the correct answer to the question, “what would we drink if we were in a cafe in Lyon in the dead of summer?” 

Specifically I chose Jean-Marc Lafarge 2008 Catalan Blanc Côte Est. It was a blend of Marsanne, Chardonnay, and Grenache that produced a refreshing wine that hung aromas of white tropical fruits on a skeleton of lemon piths and limestone. 

It paired wonderfully with crispy squid, sauteed frog legs, cucumber/watermelon salad, and even the rabbit pappardelle covered in a heavy red wine sauce. 

If we were at an Aussie grill house, I would have brought a brawny Shiraz. If were eating marinara, I would have brought something from Campagna. If we had paella, (now that’s a complicated pairing if you don’t follow this regional rule!), I would have brought a wine from Valencia. 

So if you’re ever stuck at a restaurant and the waiter doesn’t seem to know what he’s talking about, then just order a wine from the same place that inspired your food.