It’s been a while, I know.  I just finished a 12-page memo for my legal writing class; I have a very small window of freedom before the wheels of finals start turning.

Just because I haven’t written for over a month doesn’t mean I’ve stopped drinking.  Well–I’ve cut down my alcohol consumption generally, which is a good thing.  (For instance, I can actually remember what I’m doing while I’m doing what I’m doing!)  Nonetheless, I have had many, many bottles of wine.

My original intent for this wine blog was to keep track of the wines I consumed.  I’ve let dozens slip through the cracks, unfortunately.  My solution for this is to post shorter comments more frequently.  Occasionally–when I have time–I will post longer musings on wine and its connection to life, etc.

Photo Credit: Elise @ Simply Recipes

Autumn in DC has been pretty cool–literally.  Currently, it’s about 55 degrees outside.  There were days of high 30s – low 40s.  I’m used to short bursts of cold weather in California (especially up north), but sustained cold is something new to me.  I like it, however.  I don’t get all sweaty walking around; I can layer; my roommate Alex can make thick, hearty stews; and I feel more alert.  Oh yeah, and there are no more darn mosquitoes to eat me alive.

Concomitantly, I’ve turned away from white wines and have started to look more to reds to sustain my alcoholic tendencies.  Côtes du Rhône come to mind, as do malbec from Cahors and tannat-based wines from Irouleguy.

I will be making rabbit stew for dinner tomorrow (you can buy rabbit at Eastern Market for like… $3.99 a pound!) and am thinking of serving it with a Clos La Coutale from the Cahors region of France.  This wine–70% malbec, 15% merlot, and 15% tannat–was one of my favorites from Kermit Lynch in Berkeley, and I was so excited to see one lone bottle at the Wine Specialist the other day… for $13.99 it was a bit more expensive than in California, but then again, we ARE on the opposite side of the US from Berkeley.  I will be sure to post my thoughts on that meal afterwards–if I have the time!

There. I’ve said it. Maybe it’s because I’m a “neo-oenophile”, but almost every red wine smells like cherry. Almost every wine is evocative of cherry. I suppose this is somewhat understandable, given that wine = fruit = cherry (I got a B- in second-semester calculus, so you can be sure the transitive property applies here!). However, oft is the time I’ve opened a new bottle, poured a bit of its content into the waiting glass, swirled the liquid around and around, and raised the globe to my nose to smell one and but one thing: cherry.

One recent wine stands out as an exception to this rule. The Pleiades from Sean Thackrey, one of the wines I had at the Saturday tasting, smelled overwhelmingly of menthol–as in eucalyptus–and anise–as in biscotti. Cherry, it was not. Delicious and unique, it was. More about that particular wine in the promised post!

Speaking of unique wines, or, more properly, wine regions, there’s an obscure little appellation in Southwestern France–just by the Spanish border–called Irouléguy. This runs into the Basque area of Spain, and many people here speak Basque in addition to French and Spanish. The majority of red wines produced in this area is made of cabernet sauvignon, cabernet franc, and, most importantly, tannat.

Wine from Irouléguy is supposed to be rustic, deep, and brooding. I previously had an Irouléguy from Domaine Etxegaraya a few years back and remembered that I liked it a lot. Thus, when I saw an Irouléguy–this one from Domaine Ilarria–at Mission Wines at the last tasting, I picked it up for home:

Its composition: 70% tannat, 20% cabernet franc, 10% cabernet sauvignon. Tannat, with its firm, tannic grip and dark, purple color, predominates in this wine.

I opened it yesterday right before a Korean meal of rice, kimchi, pollack roe, spinach cakes, fish–pretty much a wine pairing nightmare. I knew I only had a few minutes to enjoy the wine unsullied by the sledgehammer tastes of red pepper, shrimp paste, vinegar, roe… I opened the bottle of Ilarria, poured some into a glass, gave it a long, hard swirl, and brought the globe to my nose.

Again, cherry. Damn it. But more, too. Was that… oregano? Blackberry, maybe. I was really grasping at straws here.

The taste: straw! Earth. I tasted the sweet, bitter, slimy taste of persimmon. Some herbs. The tannins made themselves known, though they weren’t at all unwelcome. Musky, meaty–the wine definitely reminded me of the Japanese concept of umami (read this interesting article on umami here that I had linked to a few posts back)… salty, sweet, savory. Mostly savory. Something meat-like. Gamy, even.

[ UPDATE from 2/29: Late last night I hit upon the EXACT taste the wine reminded me of--umeboshi, or Japanese pickled ume (sort of a cross between a plum and apricot). Specifically, the taste was that of purple perilla, a plant related to mint, which is used to make ume and can be found, in pickled form, along with umeboshi. ]

Then, I started dinner. I don’t care how self-reliant, fierce, and proud the Basques are, but their wine was no match for my native cuisine.

Today, I had leftover “gourmet” pizza from Heirloom for dinner. This pizza had some strong mozzarella, strong tomato, strong sauce, and strong oregano and thyme. Perfect for the wine. I poured myself a liberal glass, had a bite of pizza, washed it down with wine–ah. A wonderful match! The herb profile of the wine was a superb complement to that of the pizza. The pizza brought out a latent acidity I had not previously noticed on the first tasting. Very, very good.

I’ve been wondering about which wine, if any, matches with Korean food. I love off-dry riesling with Thai or some Chinese, but Korean food is not especially known for being sweet. I love dry riesling or a nice bubbly with Japanese–sushi or sashimi–but the thought of champagne with bean paste soup makes me want to throw up. Traditionally, Koreans have had soju or beer with their meals, but could we possibly reconcile wine with kimchi?

The only one pairing I know goes well is zinfandel with kalbi jim (err… braised shortribs). The shortribs are braised in a sweet broth, complete with mushrooms, carrots, potato, and radish. It’s a hearty, filling dish, and one that goes very well with the slight sweetness and acidity of zin.

Any thoughts, my Korean brethren?

It’s sort of an immigrant grape. One of the up to six grapes used in Bordeaux wines, it rarely took center stage except in other more “rustic” regions like Cahors. (One example is the really excellent Clos La Coutale from Cahors, which is a bit southeast of Bordeaux. The Clos La Coutale is 70% malbec, 15% merlot, and 15% tannat. This Kermit Lynch selection has the finesse and grace of a fine merlot but the suppleness of a Argentine malbec.) It took the importation of this grape to the New World in the mid-1800s to give malbec the home it deserved.

The growing conditions in South America–especially Argentina–were ideal for malbec, which requires more sun and heat than cabernet and merlot (its more famous compatriots). This allows for New World wines that are 100% malbec.

My favorite malbec is from Maipe, which is an intense, staining shade of deep purple. It almost pulses with an animal, sensual energy. There are dusty fruit aromas that, upon drinking, fill your mouth with an utterly satisfying, powerful explosion of plum, chocolate, earth. It’s a bronze fist covered with a silk glove. It is delicious by itself, with chocolate, with anything you can throw at it–I wouldn’t, however, pair it with fish or anything too delicate. The Maipe would destroy any gentle partner.

I wrote about the malbec from Bodega Norton in a previous post: it was disappointing. It had a limpid body, it seemed more like a pinot noir than what I had come to expect from a malbec. It was weak, uninspired and uninspiring, especially when compared to the Maipe.

Another disappointing malbec is from Budini: weak, but unlike the Norton not even quaffable. It’s rare for me not to finish a bottle once it’s opened. I threw the Budini away.

I’m drinking a malbec from Altocedro as I type this post: the 2006 Año Cero.

This one has a bit more “heat” than the Maipe, combined with less body. It’s jammy. It’s better in my book than the Norton and the Budini, but nowhere close to the Maipe. This is a shame because I couldn’t find a bottle of Maipe for the past two months! Chris, the proprietor of Mission Wines, informed me that the distributor was all out of the Maipe and that he was waiting for the new vintage to come out. (I’ll be sure to post about that wonderful day when it arrives!)

JOON’S SCALE OF MALBEC DELICIOUSNESS

1) 2006 Maipe Malbec | Mendoza, Argentina | $9.99

2) 2006 Altocedro “Año Cero” Malbec | Mendoza, Argentina | $11.99

3) Bodega Norton Malbec | Mendoza, Argentina | $7.99

4) 2006 Budini Malbec | Mendoza, Argentina | $9.99