Weygandt Wines, located in Cleveland Park, reminds me a lot of Kermit Lynch Wine Merchant.  That venerable Berkeley institution is one of my can’t miss shops whenever I visit my alma mater, and for good reason: the wines I buy from the store are perhaps the freshest, most vibrant wines I’ve ever found.  KLWM is sort of like a farmers’ market for wine.  If that is the case, then Weygandt Wines is sort of like the Eastern Market of wines.

The namesake of the shop, Peter Weygandt, and his wife Maria (née Metzler) have been importing boutique French wines since 1987.  He has recently expanded his portfolio to include wines from Italy, Germany, Austria, Australia, and Spain.  He imports some killer Beaujolais and Burgundy, and has an excellent Rhône selection.  In all, they import around 70,000 cases of wine from over 100 producers.

The Weygandts were not at the media event, but the event was run by the store’s general manager, Tim O’Rourke.  Tim has an interesting history, having started out as a chef.  He graduated from L’Academie de Cuisine in Maryland in 2000, did tours at Café Atlántico, Ristorante Tosca, and Citronelle, and has cooked with such celebrity chefs as Daniel Boulud and Michel Richard.  Being the general manager of a wine store probably has its own set of stresses, but I can imagine that it might also be very relaxed in comparison to working in some high-profile kitchens!

I had been to Weygandt only once before, and recently: I picked up a bottle of Cabernet France for an ongoing dinner with friends at Dino (which is right across the street).  The store was technically closed but I sneaked in and asked who I found out later to be Tim whether he could recommend a good Cab Franc, which he did.  Unfortunately, I don’t remember which bottle he selected, but it was good, and I appreciated being able to pick up a bottle after closing time (and at a substantial discount to boot!).

The event started out with a flight of six sparkling wines–one Crémant de Bourgogne and five Champagnes.

The N.V. Chermette Crémant de Bourgogne Brut, made of 100% Chardonnay, was lean and almost stony.  It wasn’t fruity per se, but it did have some citrus character.  It was tasty but not especially interesting (especially in relation to the Albert Sounit Crémants carried by Ansonia Wines).  The next wine, a bonafide Champagne, was the N.V. J.L. Vergnon Brut “Conversation”, a blanc de blancs that had tropical fruits on the palate a tart green apple on the finish.  This one was refreshing and would be perfect as an aperitif.

The next two wines were from Nathalie Falmet and were both non-vintage.  The Brut Nature, made with no added sugar (hence the “nature” in the name), had ripe apple and a nice round mouthfeel.  Even better than that, though, was the Le Val Cornet Brut, which had even more apple–the finish reminded me of the bitterness you get from apple skin, not a bad thing–and was fuller than the Brut Nature.

Bringing up the rear were the N.V. Philippe Prié “Depuis 1737″ Brut Tradition and the N.V. Nicolas Maillart “Platine” Premier Cru.  The Prié had what I thought was some noticeable malolactic character, and while I tasted some stone fruit/apple on the palate, the thing that struck me about this wine was the hint of something non-fruity.  I couldn’t quite put my finger on it: maybe it was herbaceous, maybe it was minerally, maybe it was even a bit of sous bois.  Whatever it was, however, it was quite attractive.

The Maillart had rich fruit–like an apple and quince tart–and very nice body.  The Prié and the Maillart were my two favorite Champagnes of the evening.

But we had more to go.  Derek of the Weekly Wine Pick started off round two by contributing a bottle of grand cru Burgundy he had picked up from MacArthur Beverages’s bargain bin for around $20 or $30.  The 1983 Domaine des Lambrays Clos des Lambrays grand cru was created during my birth year and, like me, seems to have faded with age.  You can see its brick color in the picture below.  It had a cranberry nose, and the palate reminded me vaguely of pine nuts.  It was very light and had a short finish.  While pleasant, it was clearly past its prime.  I did appreciate being able to try such an old wine!

By this point I had decided to purchase a one-way ticket to Drunksville (business class, mind you).  So, I made a rounds of the store and my eyes settled on the Rhône.  But Southern Rhône or Northern Rhône?  I asked Tim for a recommendation, and we settled on the 2009 Yann Chave “Le Rouvre” Crozes Hermitage, a bargain at $29.99.  This Syrah, along with the pair of Beaujolais cru I will be mentioning soon, was my favorite wine of the evening.  It offered up a beautiful nose of dried herbs, violet, and anise, and the palate was a cornucopia of flavor: raisin, graphite, minerals. Relatively light-bodied, it had good acid and moderate tannins, with a long finish.  I could drink this all night long (and I did), and I could not believe how well it was drinking!

I would have stuck with that wine, had I not mentioned casually to Tim that I loved Beaujolais.  He instantly offered to find an older Beaujolais cru somewhere from the recesses of the store.  He brought back a 2007 Domaine Pierre Savoye Morgon, but when I mentioned also that I loved the ’09 Beaujolais vintage but had not yet tried the ’10s, he graciously opened up a bottle of the 2010 Daniel Bouland Chiroubles as well.

My loyal readers will know how much I freaking love Beaujolais.  To me, Beaujolais is a happy wine that can be put to serious use.  It pairs well with nearly everything, but when eating is not the point it is also just terrific to gulp and guzzle by itself.  Beaujolais cru are more complex, but at their price point (usually $15-$30, tops) it’s not a shame to use them just to slake one’s thirst.

The Morgon was more mineral and “cheese” than fruit.  It was a complex, delicious wine that was like the flirty bookish sister of a nice premier cru Burgundy.  The Chiroubles, by contrast, was all light cranberry and reminded some tasters of bubble gum.  It was juicy, bright, and just plain fun.  If the Morgon was the flirty bookish sister of a nice Burgundy, then the Chiroubles was the youngest sister everyone’s worried about.

After the Beaujolais came a trio of other wines.   Someone chipped in the 2009 Font Sarade Vacqueyras, and if I recall correctly Jessica and Jonathan of Jessica In Search Of… bought a bottle of 2009 Alfredo Maestro Viña Almante “La Olmera” Tempranillo (from the Castilla y León region of Ribera del Duero).  Aaron from Hogshead: A Wine Blog contributed a bottle of 2010 Domaine des Soulanes “Kaya” from the Roussillon.  The Vacqueyras, composed of Grenache, Mourvèdre, and Syrah, was a darker older cousin to the Chave Crozes-Hermitage, all tangled vines, leather, and green olives.  The Alfredo Maestro was juicy and fresh and reminded me of a Rioja crianza.  The Kaya, made of 100% Carignan, didn’t make too much of an impression on me, I’m afraid, because by the time I got to it the drunk train was nearly to the station.

Overall, this was a terrific event and I met some wonderful bloggers, some of whom have scooped me on this story.  The wines I tried at Weygandt were all at least good–many of them were excellent, and both Beaujolais were inspirational.  I would like to try some more of Weygandt’s Rhône portfolio, too.  My thanks to Tim, Weygandt Wines, and all the bloggers and people who made this such an awesome evening.

Considering sparkling wine is like considering heaven and hell.  On the one hand, you have sparklers that barely qualify as wine–Andre and Cook’s come to mind–while on the other hand you have Champagnes that will take you to the sky (related to price).  I haven’t had too much sparkling wine in my life, which is a shame because they are fun, well-made, and, as many are coming to realize, are absolutely terrific with food.

Last week I was fortunate enough to be invited to a trade tasting of the sparkling wines of Schramsberg Vineyards, a venerable California sparkling wine institution located in Napa Valley, at Marcel’s in DC.  I had had their wines once or twice before, but was never in a condition to remember too much about them.  With this tasting I was in luck, however, because not only would I try a number of Schramsberg’s wines but would also participate in a blind tasting of Schramsberg wines and the finest French têtes de cuvée (prestige cuvée) wines.

Yikes!  A blind tasting at a trade event?  I felt outclassed, but I decided I would drink more than I spoke. I rolled up (on foot) to the tasting in my black suit (featured in my previous post) and heavy black backpack (at least it matched my suit!) and was greeted with a glass of Schramsberg’s Brut Rosé, which had pretty strawberry and peach aromas that were mirrored on the palate.

We were then led to long tables, where I sat next to David (the proprietor of the excellent Pearson’s Wine & Spirits in Glover Park) and the wine director of the Ritz-Carlton.  The phalanx of glasses reproduced above awaited us, as well as scoring sheets:

Hugh Davies, son of the founders of Schramsberg Vineyards, gave excellent commentary and production notes throughout the whole tasting.

For the first flight, which was the blind tasting of the Schramsberg sparkling wines and the Champagnes, the idea was that we were supposed to rank the wines from first to seventh and determine if we could which were blanc de blancs and which contained Pinot Noir, and which were the Californian wines. These are my transcribed notes from A to G:

• A | aromas reminiscent of white Burgundy–hazelnut and lanolin.  A long finish but a noticeable burn.  | MY RANK: 6
• B | thin bodied and high acid, with notes of green apple.  | MY RANK: 7
• C | wow!   Clover honey and bread, tart but rich.  Really freaking good.  I thought this could be the oldest wine in the lineup, and could contain Pinot.  | MY RANK: 2
• D | some aroma I couldn’t place… more of the Burgundy, maybe… really evocative and old-smelling.  Well-balanced, with tangerine notes.  | MY RANK: 1
• E | gentle floral aroma, with lemon curd.  | MY RANK: 5
• F | a rich color which made me wonder if this was an older vintage.  Burgundian aromas, with a round, full taste evocative of papaya and tropical fruits.  I thought this might contain Pinot.  | MY RANK: 3
• G | pineapple on the nose, less fruit-driven and more hazelnut on the palate.  | MY RANK: 4

• A | 2002 Dom Pérignon | mostly Pinot, 100% malolactic fermentation | TASTING RANK: 7
• B | 2000 Taittinger | 100% Chardonnay | TASTING RANK: 5
• C | 2004 J. Schram | 85% Chard, 15% Pinot | TASTING RANK: 2
• D | NV Krug | blend of Chard and Pinot | TASTING RANK: 3
• E | 2004 Louis Roederer Cristal | 50% Chard, 50% Pinot, 100% malolactic | TASTING RANK: 5
• F | 2003 Schramsberg Reserve | mostly Pinot with some Chard | TASTING RANK: 1
• G | 2002 Perrier-Jouët | 50% Chard, 50% Pinot | TASTING RANK: 4

A few weeks ago I was invited to a dinner with Jillian and David at Chez Kate et Rahul.  As I mentioned in my previous post, it’s been hard for me to quench my thirst for interesting wines lately.  So, in addition to being pleased to be able to see my good friends Kate ‘n’ Rahul and Jillian ‘n’ David, I was pleased to have an excuse to bring a bottle of Chenin Blanc recommended to me by Phil over at MacArthur Beverages (at left):

The Saumur appellation is located in the Loire Valley of France.  The Loire Valley–especially the region of Vouvray and to a lesser extent Montlouis-sur-Loire–is known for its Chenin Blanc.  I think Chenin Blanc is one of the underrated great grapes of the world.***  The best examples of Chenin Blanc have great acidity and taste of honey, almonds, and flowers.  Like Riesling and Chardonnay, Chenin Blanc can be aged to great effect.  I’ve had Chenin Blanc from 1983 and 1989, and when aged these wines take on low, nutty, waxy notes that are just incredible.  Best of all, just like old Rioja blanco, aged Chenin Blanc can be relatively affordable.

Phil, knowing my love of older white wines, sold me on the 2002 Château de Fosse-Sèche Saumur Chenin Blanc.  I was expecting great things but was, unfortunately, underwhelmed.  Rather than having pure honeyed notes, the Fosse-Sèche tasted a bit like stones washed with acid.  The acid was so high as to be bitter.  It did have some of the nutty quality that I love, but it was not part of a cohesive, beautiful whole.  The wine improved with some time, but overall it was disappointing.

Fortunately for me, Kate and Rahul decided to open up two more bottles of wine for dinner.  The first was the 2007 Antoine Arena “Carco” Patrimonio, a Kermit Lynch Wine Merchant selection and featured on the DC Wine Buyers Collective, and the second was the 2006 Gourt de Mautens Rasteau, imported by Ansonia Wines:

The Gourt de Mautens was a special wine.  I had given it to Rahul as a birthday present in 2010, but subject to one condition: that they drink it with me in 2011.  Selfish, I know, but what is wine without good friends, eh?

Thank you to Kate and Rahul for having the discipline to honor this condition!

We opened both wines but drank the Carco first.  The Carco is a Corsican wine from the Patrimonio region, which was the first to receive AOC status, in 1968.  I am not well-versed in Corsican wines, but they are supposed to  be terrific values and feature some unusual varietals.  The Carco was not an unusual varietal–it is made of Sangiovese–but it was a terrific value.****  It had nice light acidity and bright red fruit, sort of like you would imagine a Sangiovese to taste like if it were grown on a Mediterranean island.

By this point I was salivating for the Gourt de Mautens, which is mostly low-yield Grenache and comes from very old vines.  I’ve had a few glasses of this now and then, and I had gotten hooked on its dark, tannic, nearly-Herzogian power.  This bottle did not disappoint.  I had a glass of it and could have no more because it was so concentrated and so intense.

Normally, I prefer wines with greater acidity (like Chenin Blanc, or Sangiovese).  My palate has turned away from high tannin blockbusters (like much Australian Shiraz).  However, once in a while a big tannic wine ceases to be merely big or tannic and becomes something more: an experience, a big, brash woman who takes no quarter.  The Gourt de Mautens is such a wine.

Which did I prefer as between the Carco and the Gourt de Mautens?  Hard question.  I liked both of them equally but for different reasons.  The Carco I could drink forever and drink with food, drink as an aperitif, drink just for the hell of it.  The Gourt de Mautens requires you to gird your loins and steel your palate.  Both, however, are extremely well made, and both serve their own purposes.  Having them together was a good reminder of why I love wine so much.

——————————————–

* The wines of Bandol are a prime example of wines that, to me, should inspire a little bit of fear.

** Then again, I do enjoy some good gulping wines now and again.  Beaujolais nouveau, chilled down, is a guilty pleasure, as is drinking red box wine with ice cubes as an accompaniment to Italian sausage and pepper sandwiches!

*** Shea from Just Grapes declared a Chenin Blanc from the Loire one of his top 10 wines of 2009.  But my Chenin Blanc love is not universal, and for good reason.  Much of it can be insipid or bleh, as noted by David Fang of La Cave de Fang.

**** The Carco is an example of a vin de soif, or “thirst-quenching wine.”  Very appropriate.  This would also be good chilled down and eaten with things like bruschetta, summer pastas, or grilled fish.

Of course, this being a wine blog, the time was also filled with some excellent wine.

I type this from sunny California. It is literally sunny (yesterday was 77 degrees, today is going to be 80), with uncharacteristically perfect blue skies through which you can see the San Gabriel Mountains. I just flew in from DC on Saturday and have already had some great Chinese food–great Mexican food awaits.

Bookending my flight: Life by Keith Richards, which I highly recommend; two finals, courtesy of law school; clinic work, also courtesy of law school; drinking, courtesy of my nascent alcoholism; and a few bottles of wine had on either side of the continent.

The first bottle I want to write about is the young 2008 Roger Belland “La Fussière” Maranges 1er cru (Ansonia Wines, $22).  This is almost criminally young, but despite that (or because of that…?) it is tantalizingly good.  The nose on this is incredible, just exploding from the glass with strawberry and red fruits.  It has pronounced acidity and not too much tannin, and it is very lean and juicy.  It is a pretty expression of Burgundy, fruit, not funk; berries, not earth.  This is reminiscent of good Beaujolais cru.

Contrast that to this bottle right here:

The 2008 Meiomi “Belle Glos” Pinot Noir (Pearson’s Wine and Spirits, $20ish) is a blend of Pinots from California’s Sonoma, Monterey, and Santa Barbara counties.  I had had it before at Mission Wines in South Pasadena, but that was years ago.  All I remembered was that it was a quality wine but one I didn’t necessarily want to purchase again.  I tried it again at Pearson’s with Heather, and again it was not impressive–except that there was something about it, some Mickey Rourke-like spark that kept me from writing it off.  There was some funk hiding beneath the tired waves of old fruit that made me wonder if this had something else to offer.  I told this all to Larry, the pourer, who said that this bottle had been open since the day before and that he would open a fresh bottle (so nice of him, right?  I would HIGHLY RECOMMEND Pearson’s to anyone with access to Glover Park).  The new bottle: wow!  What a difference!  The tired waves of old fruit were rejuvenated and became supple cascades of ripe plum and jujubes, offset by baking spice and underlined by that funkiness I had tasted in the first bottle.  Substantial body and great tannins to balance the acidity.  Very fragrant nose.

Now, I love me some Burgundies, but sometimes you gotta go back to where you come from.  California, constantly lambasted for being Hollywood-like in its oenophilic expressions, for being too big, too bold, too brash–well, California is a big place.  France and Spain and every other winemaking region have their villains as well.

Yet another France-California face-off: any Châteauneuf-du-Pape blanc versus the 2007 Stolpman “L’Avion” ($30s) brought very kindly by Billy to a Mission Wines tasting I went to yesterday.  From the Santa Ynez Valley it is composed of 90% Roussane and 10% Viognier (though the 2008 vintage is 100% Roussane).  This has a very pretty light straw color but clocks in at a hefty 14.8% ABV.  Nutty but mouth-puckering, with a solid base of mineral and clay.  Floral nose–apparently, it smelled like honeysuckle, though I don’t even know what that means.  Great body and finish.  One of my favorite wines of the past year was the 2007 Paul Autard Châteauneuf-du-Pape blanc; if I had to compare them, I would think that the Autard is a bit more refined and with more minerals, whereas the Stolpman is more voluptuous and fruity.  Both are great, and the Stolpman is a significant bit less expensive.

Before I go, a closing note on another Californian wine I tried.  The 2009 Orin Swift “Abstract” (Mission Wines, $23ish) is a blend of predominantly Grenache, with Syrah and Petit Syrah from Sonoma.  Orin Swift is the maker of the ludicrously popular “The Prisoner”, which is good but a bit too much for my taste.  Not so with the Abstract.  Black fruits, licorice, light-to-medium body.  Definitely drinkable alone but probably also enjoyable with lamb or, I’m thinking some sort of meat-based parpadelle dish.

I do enjoy DC and the East Coast; I do also love French wines.  But sometimes, damn it, it’s good to be home.

Kate and Rahul, who are esteemed members of both organizations, thus found themselves with about two cases of wine.  They invited us over for dinner where they would provide the wine; Meredith, a trained chef, agreed to coordinate a dinner to go with the wine.

The menu, as put together by Meredith, was as follows:

• Mushroom paté
• Bitter greens salad with shallot-dijon vinaigrette
• Coq au vin over potato puree
• Quince tarte tatin

I was responsible for the mushroom paté, which recipe you can find here.  It’s one of the few dishes I’ve made that requires more than two kinds of mushrooms (three kinds of mushrooms?!?  A double boiler setup?!?  Chilling afterwards for six hours?!?  It was only the day of that I realized this dish was significantly more labor intensive than I had anticipated.)

But the mushroom paté turned out surprisingly well; actually, all the food turned out extremely well.  The coq au vin, made with love and care by Meredith, was supremely flavorful and tender, with some caramelized onion and carrot that hit me like sweet/umami bombs.  The greens were a fine balance between bitter and buttery, and the quince tarte tatin was like something out of heaven.

We had a number of wines to accompany the fantastic meal.  For instance, we had the 2008 Clos la Coutale Cahors Malbec, a perennial favorite of mine that was showing extremely well.  I’ve had many vintages of this–for instance, the 2005 and 2007–and one thing I’ve noticed about this wine generally is that it’s somewhat inconsistent.  I’ve had bottles of a particular vintage that I’ve really liked and other bottles from the same vintage that just tasted strange.  I’m glad to report that the 2008 I tried was pretty fantastic, a prettier version of the Clos la Coutale–more red than black fruit, good acidity, nice spice, and altogether a great match for coq au vin.

We also had the 2007 Kermit Lynch Côtes du Rhône, which is one of the clear winners from the DC Wine Buyers Collective.  I’ve written previously about this wine, and if anything an extra year made a huge difference.  Nice acidity with much more body than I anticipated, with good fruit and a savory finish.  For about $11 a bottle, I would stock up on this and make it my house red.

There were a few other wines but, alas, I was drunk and it was some time ago so I don’t quite remember.  I do recall having a great deal of Scotch as well, which might have something to do with my memory!

Some lively debate–first from the right:

and then from the left:

More pictures from the dinner!

The always enigmatic Martin:

Diane waiting for food to be served:

The DC Wine Buyers Collective might never make a pecuniary profit, but it has certainly made me feel very rich.  Thank you to everyone who has purchased from it, and thank you to the DC Wine Appreciate Society for a very special evening!

It happens all right, and you can improve your odds of such discoveries by having expensive tastes and keeping your eyes open.

Two Fridays ago I was at the Dover farm of the Delaware Supreme Court Chief Justice.  Chief Justice Myron T. Steele was kind enough to open his home (and extensive lands) to legal interns, clerks, and staff–past and present–for a barbecue.  There were fireflies, barking dogs, frisky ponies, and the good smell of roasting chicken and ribs: there was magic in the air.

There was also a big tub of beer and wine on the lawn.  It had nothing too fancy–mostly Bud Lite and Yuengling on the beer side, with some standard-issue Pinot Grigio and Chardonnay on the wine side–but who cared?  It was perfect, lazy evening weather, and the conversation was good.  I was also very thirsty, so I returned time and time again to the tub to get fresh beers.

On one such trip I rummaged around the ice and saw a bottle of white wine I had not previously noticed.  It was a gorgeous honey-amber color.  My first thought was that it was a Spanish wine of some sort–I’ve had some good Verdejo that came in bottles that color.  But this wine wasn’t in a colored bottle: the bottle was clear.  I reached into the tub and turned the wine around, then audibly gasped.

I could recognize that label from anywhere.

What the hell was this bottle of 1987 Chateau d’Yquem doing in a tub of Bud Lite?!

I sidled up to the Chief Justice with the bottle in my hand.  ”Um, excuse me, Your Honor.”

“Yes, Joon.”

“I found this bottle in the tub here–did you want to drink this tonight?”

He peered at the label, looked at me, and said, “Sure!  Why not?”

“Well, because it’s a very NICE bottle of wine,” I replied.

“Go ahead!  Open it up and pour some for people!”

I wasn’t quite sure if the Chief Justice was being very generous or didn’t know the provenance of the particular bottle I was holding, but I didn’t ask anymore questions.  I eagerly opened the bottle and poured the Yquem around my table.

What did people think?

“This is good!  It’s really sweet.”

“It’s good, I guess–it’s okay.”

“Yeah, this is too sweet for me.”

I wanted to punch them.

Chateau d’Yquem is the only Premier Cru Supérieur (“Great First Growth”) in the Sauternes region of Bordeaux.  Its wines are composed of Sémillon and Sauvignon Blanc–but then again, so are many other of the white wines of Sauternes.  What makes Yquem so special is that its vineyards are especially well situated to be affected by the right proportions of Botrytis cinerea, or Noble Rot.  This fungus is usually a plague on plants–grape vines included–but in certain circumstances Botrytis doesn’t destroy the grapes but rather enhances them by creating microscopic holes in the grapes that allow water to evaporate, concentrating the sugar within the grapes.

Many of the great sweet wines are similarly affected by Noble Rot, including the Tokaji wines of Hungary.  However, Yquem is hands-down acknowledged to be the best sweet white wine in the world and is priced accordingly (always going for at least a few hundred up to over a thousand dollars a pop).  And I found a bottle of it in a tub of domestic swill.

How was it?  Well, on the nose it was very concentrated honey and baked pear or apple.  It was fantastically sweet, but with a good streak of acidity keeping it from being cloying.  The best thing about the Yquem was its mouthfeel: just absolutely gorgeous and tongue-coating.  Think of the essence of nectarines, apples, pineapples squeezed and mixed into honey, with just a hint of wet newspaper (not a bad thing).   Think, too, of a lingering finish lasting for minutes.

But truth be told, it wasn’t a transcendent experience.  It wasn’t what I thought an Yquem should be.  At the end of the night, however, half the bottle was left, and I took it home.  (What if they threw the rest out?)  I brought the bottle to MacArthur Beverages, where I poured some for Phil and Phil’s boss.  Phil’s boss saw the label and instantly declared that 1987 wasn’t a strong vintage for Sauternes; he drank and said that while this was good that it did not compare with the greatest Yquems.  Robert Parker agreed: he gave the ’87 a score of 88–a far cry from the high 90s and occasional perfect 100s that Chateau d’Yquem wines garnered.

I was glad to have my thoughts confirmed, but also glad to discover that the 1987 was still retailing for $300 a bottle.  I wouldn’t have bought it for that price (nor could I afford to), but I was certainly glad to have discovered it there on a farm in Delaware.

So let this be a lesson: read all you can about wine, and pay attention to those big names that you might not think you’ll ever be able to drink, because who knows?  You might find a bottle of Pétrus at your next company outing.

There is such a stigma attached to drinking alone, for a variety of reasons.  For one, drinking alone implies that you have no one else to drink with, i.e. you are a loser.  Or, drinking alone implies that you have a drinking problem, i.e. you are an alcoholic:

But drinking alone is not in of itself a bad thing.  It is a useful tool, one of the great friends of mankind.  There are times when you need to take the edge off of life, or times when you just want to forget about everything and just get to the next morning as quickly as possible.  Obviously, indulging in individual imbibment on a regular basis may be indicative of deeper problems, but then again, merely drinking with other people doesn’t mean you don’t have a problem, either.

And sometimes drinking alone is the best way to drink, as captured so eloquently by my favorite American author, John Steinbeck.  In a scene from Cannery Row (which has been quoted a number of times here on Vinicultured), he describes Henri the Artist’s post-breakup ritual:

It had become his custom, each time he was deserted, to buy a gallon of wine, to stretch out on the comfortably hard bunk and get drunk.  Sometimes he cried a little all by himself but it was luxurious stuff and he usually had a wonderful feeling of well-being from it.  He would read Rimbaud aloud with a very bad accent, marveling the while at his fluid speech.

Yup.  This sounds about right.

Drinking by yourself is not necessarily borne of sadness, anger, desperation, or disease.  For instance, I drank alone yesterday, but there were extenuating circumstances.  First, my girlfriend is on her way to Alaska (she’s halfway through her three-week relocation drive/bar trip).  Second, I’m in Wilmington, Delaware (no further explanation required).  Finally, I had picked up a bottle of wine from Moore Brothers Wine Company after a wonderful lunch with my vice chancellor, and I couldn’t wait for the weekend to try it out.

This bottle of wine was the 2008 Bourgogne Hautes Côtes de Nuits from Domaine Olivier Rion ($22).  I’m always in the market for nice, basic Burgundies–both red and white–and the associate steered me towards this one.  I’m glad he did.

Hautes Côtes de Nuits, as can be surmised from the name, is from a hilly region just above, or west of, the Côtes de Nuits.  This region has no premier or grand cru vineyards, and the entire region is the same AOC.  It’s not as prestigious an area as much of the rest of the Côtes de Nuits, which means that you can find some terrific bargains.

I opened it up right when I got home.  Light, clear color.  Fresh plum on the nose.  Upon sipping, I was immediately hit by bright, assertive fruit: cranberry and pomegranate.  It had great acidity with a delightful mouth-puckering astringency.  It ended with a vegetal, herbal finish that wasn’t unpleasant. 

This wine went down smooth and was a sheer pleasure to drink.  It’s not dark or brooding, and it’s not a thinking man’s wine.  But at $22 and 12.5% alcohol, it’s a great wine to drink–alone or with friends.

I had always wanted to be part of a wine club, one whose members were genuinely interested in wine and learning about wine, and one whose members would not be adverse to chipping in for very nice bottles.  But for one reason or another the club did not materialize.

If you’re reading this blog there’s probably about a 10% chance you’re a law student.  If so, you’ve no doubt taken torts.  Torts–which can loosely be defined as civil actions to recover damages for injuries to person or property–can be divided into two broad categories: intentional torts and unintentional torts.  Unintentional torts encompass negligence, the five elements of which are:

• Duty
• Breach of duty
• But-for (factual) cause
• Proximate (legal) cause
• Damages

The proximate cause can be defined as that which gave rise to the injury.  For instance, if I accidentally push someone through a window, then the proximate cause of the resultant injury is my push.

But-for causation, however, is an interesting concept because it recognizes that every outcome is the result of many different causes.  For instance, in the above scenario there are multiple but-for causes, such as the victim’s sitting on the window, my being on the second floor, the host throwing a party, etc., all the way to very distant events such as my being born, my parents meeting, ancient tribes settling in what is present-day Korea, and so on.  The analysis for but-for causation becomes: “but for X’s action, would Y have suffered injury?”

Okay, now that I’m done boring you, the proximate cause of the wine society was Kate M. sending out a Facebook invitation for the inaugural meeting of what has become dubbed the DC Wine Appreciation Society.  There were various but-for causes, including a wine tasting I hosted for the staff of the Nota Bene last September at which Kate and Jill M., among others, were present.  Before this I didn’t know Kate or Jill, and now they are two of my good friends.  Through them I met a whole bunch of others, such as Kate’s boyfriend Rahul S.  I also made the acquaintance of Giri I., another law student who happened to have substantial previous experience in the wine industry.

Our inaugural meeting established the limits of membership as well as rotating system of events.  (It also involved quite a lot of wine, naturally.)  The first post-inauguration event, a Cotes-du-Rhone tasting, was hosted at Diane E.’s apartment rooftop.

There were a number of excellent bottles: a few examples of Cotes-du-Rhone, some Gingondas, a CdP, and a bottle from a relatively new appellation, Vinsobres (the 2007 Domaine Constant-Duquesnoy).  The standout, however, was a 2007 Chateauneuf-du-Pape blanc from Domaine Paul Autard.  I’ve had it before and absolutely loved it.  It consists of equal proportions of Grenache Blanc, Roussanne, and Clairette.  It’s not inexpensive–Giri, Carl B., and I chipped in $22 each for a bottle–but it’s worth it.

It’s a pretty dark straw color.  There’s a nose of honey and lanolin, a hint of banana perhaps.  It is full and generous, with nice weight in the mouth.  Exceptional acidity and balance, redolent of roasted chestnut, citrus, and clay, maybe a bit of hazelnut or almond.  Perhaps like a sherry.  A nice roasted element melds with a crisp green element for a very complex and very long finish.  It is perfect as an aperitif or as an accompaniment to chicken with mushroom cream sauce.  It’s sort of an unusual bottle but despite its idiosyncrasies–or perhaps because of them–it was the most popular wine of the evening.

Now with finals upon us, I don’t know the next time the full Wine Appreciation Society will meet.  However, I am looking forward to next semester and the slate of awesome events we will be planning.

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.