I will be in California for five more weeks, after which I will be headed back to DC for a few days, and then eight weeks in beautiful Wilmington, Delaware, known in legal circles as one of the locations of the Court of Chancery (where I’ll be interning) and known in pop culture circles as the nameless setting of Fight Club.  Hopefully during this time there will be wine, wine, and more wine.  If this past week has been any indication, there will be plenty of that this summer!

I have to write a few posts, one of Deep Sea Wines (which was gracious enough to send me two bottles to review), another for a great product known as the Wine Diaper (it’s probably not what you think it is), and yet another for a book by Matthew Frank entitled Barolo.  And, I’ll have to write about a very wonderful evening at Founding Farmers in DC at which a bottle of Riesling figured prominently–that’ll be coming soon.  All of these will take place in good time, but before I do I wanted to “clear the palate,” so to speak, by writing about a few of the wines I’ve had at home.

One of my habits while at home is to buy a few bottles with which to tide over my mom until my next visit.  I had purchased a few bottles during Spring Break, and to my surprise (and pleasure) I found that one of the bottles had not yet been opened.

This bottle was the Candidus from Malm Cellars.  Malm Cellars is a one-person show, helmed by Brendan Malm.  He doesn’t have a winery or vineyard, but he sources fruit from select growers to make his wines.  One such wine, his 2007 Sonoma County Pinot Noir, garnered a great review from the LA Times.  The Candidus, which is made from a bunch of undisclosed white Rhône varietals (but also apparently includes Chardonnay concentrate according to Dave from Mission Wines), is about $16.  It’s intensely aromatic–I’m thinking Viognier or Muscat (though I’m not sure if Muscat is a Rhône varietal)–with an assertive nose of quince and honey.  It’s pear-colored and appears on the viscous side.  Excellent: full of dried apricot and citrus, full bodied yet light, good acidity, very pleasant.

Forget the Pinot Grigio or Pinot Gris for the upcoming summer–this wine is a refresher for those who want more heft.  Think of a blond Christina Hendricks:

Yum.

The Candidus was good even on the second day, but alas, a 750 mL bottle only lasts so long.  My third day at home and there was nothing left to drink!  A trip to Mission Wines was in order.

One of the great things about Mission Wines–at least if you’ve gone there for years like I have, now–is that they always have a few bottles open to try.  Matthew was manning the bar and he poured me a few drinks:

• 2009 Torii Pinot Gris | Willamette Valley, Oregon | notwithstanding my Pinot Gris/Grigio bashing above, this was a wonderful example of the varietal.  Great acidity, lemon curd, flowers, and minerality.  Hits you right in front of the mouth and doesn’t let go.
• 2009 Bella “Special Release” rosé | Sonoma Coast (?), California | made from a blend of Grenache and Syrah, this rosé packed a serious color (almost as dark as a light Burgundy or Beaujolais, as dark as a rosé made from Malbec) and serious flavor: peach, watermelon Jolly Rancher.  Think of this as Domaine Tempier’s um, racier backwater cousin.
• 2007 Louis Jadot Côte de Nuits Villages “Le Vaucrain” | Côte de Nuits, Burgundy, France | a village-level Burgundy, tart but with a nice mouthfeel and a satisfying mid-palate.  Fig, membrillo.  A perfect bistro wine, served chilled with steak tartare on the side, and at the mid-twenties at the perfect price.
• 2004 Bodegas Luzon “Alma de Luzon” | Jumilla, Spain | more on this below.

Upon Matthew’s recommendation I picked up a bottle of the 2007 Weinhof Scheu Spätburgunder from the Pfalz region of Germany ($15.99) and, a day or so later, a bottle of the aforementioned Alma de Luzon.  The Spätburgunder, which is German for Pinot Noir, was fantastic!  Never mind the long, narrow Riesling-type bottle in which it arrives: this is serious red wine.  A light brick color, it is full of tart cranberry and has hints of earth, very light-bodied and excellent chilled.  This is serious value for the money: leave it to the Germans to deliver efficient, precise wine.

The Alma de Luzon is a Jorge Ordoñez selection, so you know it’s good.  The first release, this normally retails for $67 but given the poor economy, its distributors unloaded quite a few cases to Mission where it is going for $27.99 a bottle.  This is an insanely low price for a very good wine.  It’s rare that everyone in my family likes a particular wine: this had something for everyone.  Dark, inky color.  Tobacco and stewed dark fruits on the nose, a hint of graphite.  In the mouth it had prune, blackberry, fig jam, clove.  It reminded me of Madeira, or the 2005 Ridge “Paso Robles” Zinfandel I had a few months ago.

Although this blend of 70% Monastrell, 20% Cabernet, 10% Syrah spends 22 months in oak (60% French, 40% American) and has a very dark, extracted color, it is not a Vaynerchukian “oak monster”: the tannins are there, but they’re silky and well-integrated.  Indeed, the Alma de Luzon’s acidity is more pronounced than its tannins.  Altogether, this is a tremendous value and a crowd-pleaser.  Buy it, drink it with a meal (I’m thinking red meats or molé, even), drink it with dark chocolate-covered blueberries, drink it by itself–whatever you do, be sure to buy it and drink it.

So, I’ve been at home for a week and a day and I’ve been able to try some wonderful wines.  I would recommend all of them.  With selection like this, how can I not love South Pasadena?

For instance, I spent four and a half years in Berkeley, and it wasn’t until my last year that I truly started to enjoy it.  Suddenly, its wonders started presenting themselves to me like a blossom of gastronomic joy.  Where the hell was Gregoire all my life?  Why didn’t I go to Kermit Lynch before?

I am also a native of the Los Angeles region–Alhambra and South Pasadena, to be exact–but I can’t say I truly loved LA until I left for law school here in DC.  Now I love LA; every moment I spend there on break is a little blessing.

You might have heard me railing on DC.  I’ve always had the feeling that it’s trying to be like many different cities but failing.  I hate the crazy humidity of the summer, and I don’t like the absolute lack of tall buildings.  I hate how the Metro closes early–or at all–and how the bars close early.  I also don’t consider myself a very political person, which considering the town is not such a good thing.

However, DC has begun to grow on me.  There are little pockets of DC, a coffee shop here or a restaurant there, an alleyway here or a circle there, that I love.  Of course, one can choose to explain this cynically by pointing out that every city has its charms.  Still, I think I’ll be missing Amsterdam Falafelshop a lot once I leave DC.

There are other places, too.  Last Saturday Ansonia Wines was having a special open house where they were pouring old favorites and new selections they had picked up on their recent trip to Southern France.

Ansonia Wines is a boutique wine shop that specializes in French wines, putting a particular emphasis on Burgundy though they do have a good Southern Rhone selection, as well as a few offerings from Bordeaux, Alsace, and Italy.  It’s a family-run affair, with the father Mark (a Philadelphia lawyer for over twenty years) having run a successful wine importing business for years and years, providing wines to such high-end DC restaurants as Komi, CityZen, and Citronelle, and the son Tom (recently graduated from college) opening up the retail location just this past December.

They import wines from small but renowned producers like Michel Gros and Roger Belland, who produce red and white Burgundies that will take your breath away.  Two of their wines were recently reviewed quite favorably by The Washington Post, and I personally have had the opportunity to try many of their wines because I am now their manager-on-retainer (this being a one-person retail store, I fill in whenever Tom needs to take time off).  But I was looking forward to the open house because they were pouring some new wines from their buying trip.

My law school friend Giri–a oenophile who besides working as an engineer in Detroit’s automobile industry worked in wine retail for man years–and I met up at Ansonia where, among teeming throngs of people, we were served a new Cremant d’Alsace made from Chardonnay.  Delicious, rich, and full–a Champagne masquerading as a Cremant.  We were then served a number of other wines, such as the excellent 2004 Chateau Destieux, a Grand-Cru Bordeaux that offered seducing notes of plum, cedar, and graphite, a simple but refreshing Chardonnay from Domaine Albert Sounit, and the 2007 Domaine les Goubert Sablet, a pure, mid-bodied red that went down smooth.

However, the big standouts from the open house were two Gigondas from the same domaine.  Honestly, I love Domaine les Goubert–their L’Inedit (the “unedited” or “original”), described by the winemaker as a “man’s wine,” really is, with assertive dark fruits, flannel, strong yet balanced tannins, and warm spreading finish–and its offerings.  Goubert has two different styles of Gigondas, one made traditionally with no oak (no oak!) and the other, its “Cuvee Florence” (named after the winemaker’s daughter), seeing upwards of 24 months in 50% new French oak.

Ansonia offers a number of different vintages in both.  I had picked up the ’89 Gigondas ($42) to try on a special occasion but managed to get a little taste of it.  Intriguing, with a funky umami.  They were also serving the ’94 Cuvee Florence ($69), which had the same qualities but seemed brighter.  By this point Giri and I were joined by my friend Waiching and her friend Mark, not to mention the dozens of people who cycled in and out of the store.

Sufficiently soused up, we purchased quite a few bottles: a 2007 Domaine Annie Claire Forest Pouilly-Fuisse (one of my “Wines of the Week”), two bottles of a new Cotes-du-Rhone Village from Domaine Coulange, two bottles of Cremant, and–gasp!–a bottle of the ’94 Cuvee Florence.

We had already had a big evening, but the evening was about to get better.  The four of us stumbled back to my place, where my roommate Alex was recovering from a half-marathon he had run that morning.  I whipped together a relatively quick meal of mushroom cream chicken, cooked in my new enameled ceramic covered casserole, roasted brussels sprouts, and rice.  During the hour cooking and prep time, as well as during the meal and after, we had wine and more wine.

We downed the Pouilly-Fuisse–pretty as ever.  The Domaine Coulange Cotes-du-Rhone Village (around $15) was juicy, fruity, and gave the impression of sweetness.  Altogether a solid wine, especially for those who don’t like their wines too brooding.  But I was waiting impatiently for the Gigondas.  Both Gigondas.  Hell, if I wasn’t going to drink the ’89 now, I would never drink it.

So that was opened and poured into our glasses.  Swirl, swirl, and sniff.  Dark stewed prune on the nose.  Swirl, swirl, sip.  Prune, umami, baking spices, Japanese red bean jelly.  The color was almost brick-red.  I’ve seen older wines described as faded and brown around the edges, but I had never seen it before.  The ’89 definitely fit this description.  Altogether a pleasant wine but one that should be drunk now–I think it has reached its peak.

The ’94 was awaiting us.  Pour, swirl, swirl, sniff.  More of the same as the ’89.  Swirl, swirl, sip.  It had the same general qualities of the unoaked ’89, but this was simply brighter, juicier, and more vibrant.  There was a strong backbone as well from the oak.  There was a good undercurrent of acidity to it that kept things lively.  Very, very, very good and worth every penny.

I couldn’t tell whether I liked the ’94 better because it was younger, oaked, or just qualitatively different than the ’89.  I would like to try Goubert’s Gigondas from the same vintage to make sure.  However, I will stake a claim at this time and say that I would prefer the Cuvee Florence style versus the more traditional style.  Of course, this might change upon further examination.

The rest of the evening?  More wine, followed by glasses of German brandy and hand-rolled cigarettes on the roof courtesy of Mark.  I might not like DC as much as Berkeley or LA, but after a night like that it’s certainly growing on me.

School was cancelled these past two days, which means I haven’t been in class since Wednesday evening.  I’m hoping that tomorrow will be cancelled as well, which would mean I would be out of class for TWELVE days (I don’t have classes on Thursdays and Fridays, and this Monday is Presidents Day).  This is basically longer than my Spring Break, which is coming up at the end of February.

As my blog has indicated, I’ve been cooking a lot, eating well, and drinking a lot of great wines.  For instance, yesterday morning started with my making a bachelor’s breakfast skillet consisting of a layer of leftover mashed potatoes, two eggs, shredded cheddar cheese, thyme, and a whole lotta Tabasco sauce:

I had purchased two small 5″ Lodge cast-iron skillets for this very purpose but seldom use them.  I should more often.

Although this was a good introduction to the day, I had bigger ambitions for the evening.  See, my roommate Alex was coming home from Europe yesterday, and I figured I should welcome him back to the US of A with a proper meal of lamb shanks and butternut squash.

But how do I cook lamb shanks?

I’ve had them before, most memorably at my old Berkeley Restaurant, Adagia.  Prior dining experience, however, does not cooking expertise make.  Thus, I looked at a few recipes, here, here, and here, blending them all together and hoping for the best.

The technique?  Braising at low temperature for a long, long time.

Part Two: Marinating the Meat and Prepping the Veggies

I had purchased two lamb shanks at Eastern Market a few weeks ago, and though I’m loathe to do so I had to freeze them.  No matter.  After defrosting for two days, the lamb shanks were ready.  I wasn’t sure about how tender they were going to be because of the freezing, so I played it safe by marinating them in olive oil, pepper, thyme, fennel seeds, and curry powder and cardamom.  In retrospect, I think I’d remove the last three ingredients because they imparted a sort of Eastern/North African flavor I didn’t exactly want.  The shanks marinated in this mixture for four hours in the fridge.

I would need veggies for the stock.  I used diced onions, sliced leeks, and whole garlic cloves as the base.

Part Three: Picking the Wine

The braising recipes I came across all required a few cups of red wine.  But which wine?  I usually use cheap wine for cooking (see Charles Shaw Sauvignon Blanc), but I figured that my roommate and I wouldn’t be able to finish off a whole bottle of wine, anyway.

Hmm.  Not a Beaujolais–Beaujolais is too light and delicate and would get lost in the mix of flavors.  What about a Burgundy?  Yeah, that makes sense: some good, earthy-spicy Burgundy always goes well with lamb.  What about a Chianti?  Hmm, that could work as well.

I settled on the Burgundy.  Notwithstanding the curry and cardamom, I was trying to go for something a bit more French in nature.  The Burgundy in question was the 2007 Domaine Bruno Clavelier Bourgogne, a basic bottling I picked up at MacArthur Beverages for $25.00:

I had liked the basic Bourgogne (the 2005 Domaine René Leclerc Bourgogne) Phil had recommended to me last time, but as they were out of that particular wine he recommended instead the Clavelier.  This one had by far the lightest color I’ve ever seen in a Burgundy–almost a rosé, it was so pale.  The nose was typical Burgundy, but the taste was something else.  I got huge notes of cranberry, both in taste and acidity, whereas Alex got green apple.  Very light bodied, but with good acidity and good tannins.  A bit of spice, though not much.  Not much funkiness or earthiness, either.

This is a pretty good wine–it’s not substantial and not terribly complex, but it’s pleasant and would definitely be a great thirst-quencher come the summertime.

Part Four: Browning the Meat / Making the Braising Fluid / Putting It All in the Oven

I browned the lamb shanks on my large cast-iron skillet for a few minutes on each side (this step is necessary, apparently, if you want the lamb to retain its shape).  Note how the meat is attached continuously to the entire bone; as the shanks cook the meat retracts and gives the shanks the characteristic “dinosaur bone” shape:

Afterwards, I took out the shanks and added the chopped veggies to the pan, browning them in the combination of lamb juices and olive oil.  Then, I added a half-can of tomato paste and cooked the mixture for a while.  Next, I added some vegetable and chicken stock, sliced sweet peppers, and three cups of the Burgundy.  I reduced this before adding the lamb shanks, simmering, then covering the skillet with a lid before putting it into an oven which I had preheated to 350 degrees.

Now, the waiting.

Part Five: The Test

I cooked the lamb for two-and-a-half hours.  During this time I turned the shanks every now and then to ensure they cooked evenly, and they looked pretty damn good.  After the two-and-a-half hours I cut a little chunk from a shank, and it came right off.  Perfect!  Removing the shanks, I first took the vegetable sauce and blended it in a blender.  I poured the resulting puree through a coarse sieve, leaving only a very nice, smooth sauce  behind.  Pouring this back into the skillet, I then added two cans of cannellini beans and simmered that some more.

Here’s the final product:

But here was the rub.  This was 10:30 pm, and Alex was basically asleep.  Further, he told me a few hours into this process that–gasp!  He didn’t quite like lamb!  (Forgive him: he’s a recovering life-long vegetarian.)

So I invited my friend Amy, who lives in the apartment building, to come up and have Alex’s portion and have some Burgundy.  I put it all on a plate, grated some lemon zest on top, and served it.

How was it?  Well, only the bone remained.  It was a success, and one I seek to repeat sometime in the near future.

I think a lot of people, when they think about Burgundy, see in their mind’s eye big jug wines labeled “Burgundy.”  (An aside: I was looking up Carlo Rossi’s Burgundy to see what grapes go in it but was unsuccessful.  I have no clue what goes in their Burgundy, and apparently no one on the Internet cares enough to do the research!)  This is horrible, and my hat goes off to those wine drinkers who appreciate well-crafted, artisanal pinot noir-based Burgundies from Burgundy, France.

But that’s not all this wondrous region has to offer.  I would argue that some of the world’s greatest white wines–and definitely the world’s greatest chardonnays–come from Burgundy.  Those white Burgundies I’ve tried have all been vastly superior–to my palate, at least–to those super-oaky butterballs that California seems to churn out with a vengeance.

To each his own, though, right?  This might be the case, but in my age demographic (20-30, generally) white Burgundies get ignored.  This can be chalked (heh) up to four broad reasons:

1. When people think of Burgundy, they think of horrible jug wines.
2. When people don’t think of Burgundy in terms of jug wines, they think that all Burgundies are red.
3. Many people are turned off by the “butterball” super-oaky style of chardonnay championed by Californian winemakers.
4. White Burgundies can be friggin’ expensive.

I’ve already addressed numbers one and two.  As regards number three, white Burgundies are as a general rule much less oaky than California wines.  However, they do exist on a stylistic scale ranging from lean and mean to round and supple, which makes Burgundy a veritable playground of chardonnay.

For instance, the Chablis appellation–the most northerly part of Burgundy and which is devoted entirely to chardonnay–is renowned for steely, minerally wines.  They are often described as having a “gunflint” characteristic which can be attributed to the limestone soil of the area.  As such, they are great with shellfish, particularly oysters, I’ve found, but also delicious on their own.  Many lower-level Chablis producers only age their wines in steel tanks or neutral oak, so these are good deals for those of you who don’t really like oak.  Other producers barrel ferment, but still, you won’t find Vaynerchukian “oak monsters” lurking here.

And so our first chard of the evening–not counting a blanc de blanc Champagne to start things off–was the 2007 Laurent Tribut Chablis ($25-$30), a basic Bourgogne blanc level wine that was tart and minerally.  It had good weight in the mouth, though its striking acidity convinced me that this would be best as a food wine.

The next was my favorite white, the 2007 Les Vins du Moulin Mâcon-Villages.  Just as Chablis is the most northerly part of Burgundy, Mâcon is in the broader region known as the Mâconnais, which is the most southerly portion (not counting Beaujolais, which most people wouldn’t consider part of Burgundy anyway).  It is primarily a white region, producing mostly basic Bourgogne blanc. For only a bit more money you could and should buy a wine with the much better Mâcon-Villages designation.  Les Vin du Moulin is Mâcon-Villages and is produced independently by Jean Pierre and Michel Auvigue (and not through a cooperative, through which model over 75% of Mâcon wine is made).  It was rounder and more generous than the austere steely Chablis; it had some oak but stayed away from tasting toasty or oaky.  Rather, it was well-integrated and reminiscent of honey.  This was a solid wine and, at $15.99, a great and affordable introduction to white Burgundies (and thus an answer to number four above).

Our last chardonnay was the 2006 Louis Jadot Chassagne-Montrachet ($50) (sha-san-ye mong-ra-she).  Chassagne-Montrachet is the second-most southerly appellation of the Côte de Beaune, which itself is the southern half of the famed Côte d’Or (“Slopes of Gold”), considered the heart and soul of Burgundy.  The northern portion of the Côte d’Or, the Côte de Nuits, is almost exclusively devoted to red wines; the Côte de Beaune produces both red and white though whites dominate.

I was excited about the Chassagne-Montrachet.  This appellation has (as of 2001) a whopping fifty-two premier cru vineyards, though with only one grand cru vineyard.  Louis Jadot is a négociant–a sort of wine merchant/producer that buys grapes from growers and vinifies them–with a good deal of cachet.  My excitement was tempered a bit by the fact that this particular bottle was not from a premier cru vineyard but from the more general appellation designation.  Nonetheless, I opened it and let it breathe for a while.

This wine was oily and viscous–good qualities–and redolent of lime.  Bright citrus, with a nice dagger of acidity.  It was fuller and rounder than the Chablis but less generous and oaky than the Mâcon-Villages.  It was sort of an interesting middle ground.  Although well-made, for an introductory white Burgundy I would recommend the Mâcon-Villages over this.  I would definitely like to try a Chassagne-Montrachet, however, from a premier cru vineyard.

Overall, the whole evening was a success.  I think the pinots showed better on average than the chardonnays, but I think the best value of the evening was the Mâcon-Villages.  Look it up and drink it up!

We had a spate of seven wines for the tasting, starting with the decidedly NOT Burgundian Drappier “Carte d’Or” Blanc de Blancs Brut Champagne which I included because, hell, it’s 100% chardonnay, and hell, who doesn’t like Champagne?  We went through three whites–a basic Mâcon-Villages, a Chablis, and a Chassagne-Montrachet–and three reds.

The first red, the 2005 Domaine René Leclerc Bourgogne, was a basic rouge I picked up at MacArthur Beverages for around $25.  However, it was really, really good, with nice acidity, some spice, and a hint of funk.  This is definitely something I’d pick up as a “house Burgundy” if I ever make that much money in the future.

The second was Kate and Rahul’s favorite red, the 2005 Domaine du Clos Salomon Givry Premier Cru (around $30-$35 on sale at MacArthur).  I have to say this was very impressive, just really well integrated with nice body, a bit of berry, a bit of mushroom, and a lot of pepper on the finish.  Though pinot isn’t the first varietal that comes to mind when eating steak, this particular wine would make a good match.  I could imagine lamb as well.  Watercress, escarole, or arugula would make good sides.

MY favorite of the evening, however, was the 2005 Nicolas Rossignol Pommard ($70 at the Wine Specialist).

Pommard was apparently the most popular Burgundian appellation in the US market back in the 60s and 70s.  This popularity may have led to some degree of complacency: as at least one commentator has noted, Pommard now has a reputation for being among the worst values in the Cote d’Or.

Nonetheless, there are always exceptions, and this offering from Rossignol was one of them.  I had tried his 2005 basic Bourgogne rouge a few months ago and was not impressed–it seemed thin and lacked focus–so I didn’t have any expectations for the Pommard.  I popped it open about an hour before the tasting and poured it into a decanter to open up… I took a sniff once it was in the decanter, and man… already it smelled wonderful.

So, the moment of truth.  It was the last wine of the tasting.  I poured a bit in everyone’s glass, we swirled and sniffed.  Gorgeous, gorgeous nose reminiscent of lavender, purple fruits, slight trace of earthiness.  Into the mouth.  OMG.  A stunning, shimmering mouthfeel, like velvet or silk.  Absolutely seamless integration.  Very fruit-forward, a basket of berries picked in the shade of flowering bushes.  Lingering hint of violets on the finish, like the footsteps of some forest-fairy.  Magical–one of those precious few wines that elicit a slow spreading smile upon tasting.

I would highly recommend the Rossignol Pommard to any Burgundy lover.  It would be a great wine with which to impress anyone.  I wouldn’t pair this one with food because it is so delicate, so utterly perfumed and graceful that drinking it with food would coarsen the experience.  If I HAD to pair it, however, I would do so with mousse pâtés, duck stewed with cherries, or with fruit/dark chocolate-based desserts.

Clark Z. Terry of KLWM wrote in the aforementioned post: “Burgundy fanatics often talk about their ‘Burgundy moment’: The bottle that flipped a switch in their brain and set them on a destructive path to buy all the Burgundy they can in search of more wine that will replicate that vinous epiphany.”  This wine is fully capable of inspiring any number of Burgundy moments.