Tag Archives: Loire
Three Gamays
A week or so ago, I swung into Everyday Wines in Ann Arbor. Jackie pointed out some new wines, including a few of her favorites. I decided to select a few gamays that she and Mary were enjoying. Some tasting notes:
2006 Cote de Brouilly, Domaine de Robert Perroud – Smells like flowers, spice cake, cola, and dried cherry. I’d think at first whiff that it was destined to be sweet and luscious. And it begins to hint at those ripe, fruit forward flavors. But there’s some serious grip to this wine, even after a few years of bottle age. The finish doesn’t linger, but there’s depth here. Lots of pretty layers to this.
2009 St. Pourcain, Chambre d’Edouard, Domaine Grosbot-Barbara – Light and fun, there’s that quintessential stony nose characteristic of so many Loire wines. This is obviously a brighter wine, though, with less “rocks” and more pure fruit. A Pinot Noir/Gamay blend that’s dominated by the former, this is the most delicate and playful of the three wines I’m trying. Tart cherry, berries, and flowers. A real value in the neighborhood of 15 bucks.
2010 Gamay La Boudinerie, Noëlla Morantin – This wine can be a bit of a head scratcher at first. On one hand, this strikes me as being very similar to any number of dirty, rustic Loire Valley gamays, most notably from the Touraine appellation. On the other hand, this does have some interesting qualities. And in reading up on Morantin’s wines, it looks like she does indeed work in that region and is located near the sites of some of my favorite Loire gamays. So this is in many respects the essence of natural wine reflecting terroir: the natural yeast, the soil, the grapes, the weather should all be similar to these other wines. With minimal manipulation, it’s unsurprising that there are so many features similar to other wines I love. So what this may lack in distinctiveness relative to other “natural” gamays from the region, it makes up for in enjoyment and expression of a place and an ideal. All that bullshit aside… There are grape undertones to an otherwise earthy nose. Mildly herbal, there are mostly berry flavors here and a bit of astringency and acidity at the finish. Opens up quite a bit over a half hour. While this strikes me as a bit dull and earthy, it’s fundamentally nice stuff with a rustic yet feminine quality.
Some of these, notably the Morantin, are available elsewhere, but if you’re in A2, stop in and see Mary, Jackie, or Putnam at Everyday Wines in Kerrytown!
A Taste or Two. Or Twenty Four.
Much like the moon, my drinking habits have certain predictable phases. Coffee in the mornings. Tea in the afternoons. Cocktails for a few weeknights, wine for a few weeknights, beer for sports weekends or long nights out around Detroit.
This past week was a wine week. A phase. A big phase.
Starting with an opportunity to eat and drink a bit at Cork Wine Pub with some fellow GU Detroiters — James Cadariu, Steve Kirsch, Michael Lindberg, and Jarred Gild among them — and Louis/Dressner wine rep, Josefa Concannon, this wine phase of mine got off to a delicious start on Wednesday the 30th. Jeffrey Mar at Cork does a nice job rotating wines through on the list, keeping things interesting: We had newer Chablis (09 Seguinot-Bordet), Sancerre, and a couple of reds. It wasn’t the right place or atmosphere for taking notes, so I didn’t really get many, but one of the highlights on which I do have some notes is the 07 Mondeuse from Franck Peillot, which has been a staple of Jeff’s wine list since Cork opened.
2007 Peillot Mondeuse, Bugey, France
Imported by Louis/Dressner
Over email, there was some discussion among the GUD group regarding food and wine prompted in part by an article from Eric Asimov regarding his views on the subject. This wine is a perfect illustration of many of our conversational points: It’s delicious on its own, but there’s something transformative that happens with food. Loaded with mild, prickly tannins, this is bone dry on the finish, and there’s something about the way the tannins give way with food that opens up the bright, fleshy berry flavors and herbal flavors in this wine. This is impossibly dense and flavorful given its low alcohol content. Delicious stuff. Mondeuse is uncommonly seen in the US, but it’s gained a cult following through the efforts of importers like Dressner and places like Cork and Western that sell those wines. I dig.
Thursday, I snagged some carryout from Supino on the way home from work, and Jarred, James, Josefa, and I were joined by Kim and George at Gang of Pour. We drank bits and pieces of more than a dozen bottles, with delicious wines from the Canary Islands courtesy of Western Market and high expectations fulfilled by an older Muscadet and some 2003 Clos Rougeard.
2002 Luneau-Pepin L d’Or Cuvee Medaillee, Muscadet, France
Imported by Louis/Dressner
One of the things that surprises people as they become more interested in wine is that some white wines can age. Even more surprising is that inexpensive whites from regions a lot of people have never heard of can age. Because of the acid, good Muscadet is no different, and this is damn good Muscadet. (Thanks to Kim and George for sharing!) The nose on these wines always seem tight – almost like you’re trying to smell it on a rainy day when only the moisture and humidity really make its way into your nose. Here, its just a stone cold aroma of minerals and maybe a bit of citrus peel. It’s fleeting though. On the palate, this has the weight one would expect from being aged by the winemaker sur lie (i.e., aged on settled yeast and fermentation byproducts). It’s hard to believe this is a 2002 as it’s quite vivid and alive — plenty of citrus, acid, and minerality with a grassy, rainy quality that hangs on the tongue and gets cleaned up by a finish with tons and tons of acid.
2008 Zdjelarevic Grasevina, Slavonija, Croatia
James was kind enough bring to our gathering another of his Eastern European treasures acquired on his trip last year. There’s a long pause after everyone inhales the downright tropical aromas and takes the first sip. Everyone concurs that this wine is unlike just about anything we’ve had before. The nose is overflowing with honey, melon, maybe even mango aromas. It’s more powerful than layered, but it’s nonetheless enticing. On the palate, it initially seemed sweet and kind of boring. The more I drank it, the more I could taste all sorts of fruits and herbs — pear, orange, melon, lemongrass. It doesn’t have a long-lasting, powerful finish of any sort, but this was memorable and unique among wines to which I’ve been exposed in my life.
2007 Catherine & Claude Marechal Bourgogne Rouge
Imported by Louis/Dressner
This producer makes one of the best values in all of wine, and this is it. Locals can find it at Western Market. If you’re a fan of red burgundy, this is the best “everyday” option in the state since it’s so much more nuanced than you’d expect from an inexpensive wine. Raspberry and tart cherry up front and a beautiful, penetrating finish. It’s sexy but focused. Just great stuff.
2009 Bermejo Lanzarote, Canary Islands
Imported by Jose Pastor
There’s a method of fermenting wine known as carbonic maceration. In short, it involves fermenting the sugars while the juice is still inside the grapes rather than having crushed the grapes first. So whole grapes sit and ferment, and the resulting wine tends to be low in tannin and has a strong emphasis on fruit flavor. This particular example smells sweet, as one might expect, and while wines made by this method have never been my personal favorite, this is undoubtedly well made. It’s densely packed with flavors, and while the lack of tannic structure or acid isn’t my thing, it’s impossible not to be impressed with the soft, velvety texture. This is nothing like the plastic fakeness of industrial Beaujolais (as opposed to real Beaujolais, which I love), which commonly undergoes carbonic maceration. This is real wine, and it was another new experience. After all, I’d never had wines from the Canary Islands, and the Listan Negro grape from which this is made is a new thing to me.
2009 Bermejo Lanzarote Rosado, Canary Islands
Imported by Jose Pastor
The same producer and same importer and same retailer brought this delightful rose wine to my table that evening. It pours just a bit orange and reeks of flowers and berries. Fruit dominates the palate with some hints of stone and herbs, but this is fundamentally a dry wine. Most importantly, it is the very definition of quaffable. Fun stuff and perfect for what appears to be the forthcoming warm weather.
Lini “Labrusca” Lambrusco Rosso, Italy
Imported by Domenico Valentino
Prickly and dry, this is crazy good. Berries, herbs, bubbles. It’s not a tense or angry wine, but it strikes me as more serious than the bubbles and label might indicate initially. This has been available in the Detroit market for several months, and it made its unofficial debut at the Home Slice event at Eastern Market last fall. Jarred at Western carries this as well as the white and rose versions, all of which are delicious.
2003 Clos Rougeard, Saumur-Champigny, France
Imported by Louis/Dressner
Josefa, a representative of the importer for this wine, explained that all of these wines spend two years in the barrel and two years in the bottle before being released to the market. I bought this in 2007, 4 years after the vintage date and upon its release, from Putnam Weekley at the old Cloverleaf market. It’s been in the cellar, and it was drinking like a rock star wine that night. This is the type of wine that has led us to absurd tasting notes: It’s SO complex and SO layered that people like me want to describe every crazy flavor in the glass. I’m mellowing, so I’ll avoid a treatise on a single bottle. But in general, this has everything going on: There’s definitely some black fruit here, but it has a much more masculine, animalistic flavor with a perfect, elegant balance of acid, tannin, and fruit. This is what I want out of wines in middle and upper tier price points. One could sit there and smell this for a half hour and then spend all night with this bottle, just loving every minute of it.
After a high degree of interest from the GUD discussion group in an introductory community wine tasting, Jarred and I met with some other folks to (a) discuss how we might put something like that together and (b) drink some more great wines. Among the highlights…
2008 Jean Francois Ganevat Cuvee Julien, Jura, France
Imported by Jeffrey Alpert
This particular wine from Ganevat, purchased from Chambers Street Wine in New York, is exclusively Pinot Noir. With far more minerality and light, playful edginess to it than most burgundy but with more funk and earth than many Jura wines, this does a nice job of bridging those two worlds. Sour cherries, chalk, tannins… it’s all there. Light bodied and really very easy to drink. While it was tasty now, I think the acid, tannin, and fruit are all in such high concentrations that this would last some time in a cellar.
2008 Domaine Montchovet Hautes Cotes de Beaune, Burgundy, France
Imported by Jenny & Francois
Chardonnay is often referred to as the winemaker’s grape since it’s fairly malleable in terms of flavor — it can convey mineral and terroir in a minimalistic winery and it can coat one’s tongue with tropical fruit and vanilla in a New World paradise. But this fits no paradigms, no expectations that anyone could possibly have of white burgundy. All the elements are there, but the sum of those parts is something unique. Citric as though it were some bracing Loire Valley wine, it smells of lemon. And oak is certainly there, but so are peachy, fleshy fruits. Together, it’s a powerful shot of flavor. It’s not something I’d call a drinking, quaffing, cocktail style wine, but it’s interesting and requires your attention. Another wine I suspect you can only/most easily find at Western Market around here…
That’s it. Those are the highlights of the last ten days. In that time, I’ve more than filled my recycling bin with two dozen empties.
What, oh what, will the neighbors think?
Les Giroflees
Five or so years ago, I was sitting on a gravel patio in Royal Oak with a group of friends when Putnam walked up with a long, slender bottle of sweet, orange wine. At first, I was appalled: It tasted a little like NutriSweet. Then he presented a fresher example, and in going back and forth between the two, I discovered how the fruit and floral qualities in the latter changed to what was in the former, and they both became beautiful.
The wine was Les Giroflées, a rose produced from the pineau d’aunis grape by Eric Nicolas of Domaine de Bellevue, and it’s been a favorite ever since. In the past few years, though, it’s had one major flaw: Nicolas hasn’t been making the damn stuff.
Enter: the 2009 vintage. Only a few cases made it to the US; only a few of those made it to Michigan; half of one has made it to my house; and one of those bottles is sitting in front of me, open. Santa came a few weeks early this year.
Aromatically, it has the round, softness of an elegant chenin blanc, but it’s tinted with strawberry. It’s a soft, fleshy wine with fruit that just explodes on the palate. I realize now that what I took as NutriSweet initially is an unusual, unique interaction between ripe strawberry flavor and the typical minerality one finds in many Loire Valley wines. That aroma and sensation of freshly broken stone is the same sharp quality I get in artificial sweeteners, but over the course of really falling in love with this wine, those grew distinct. I don’t recall this wine historically having as pronounced a bitter quality — almost like unripe fruit — at the finish, but it’s there just a bit, which nicely offsets that off-dry sweetness that I love so much. There are also some pleasantly tart undertones that linger on the finish after the bottle’s been open an hour or so and warmed up. Very pleasant wine.
I got my bottle of this little treasure, which weighs in at 13.5% abv, at Everyday Wine in Ann Arbor.
2008 Tue-Boeuf La Butte
Gamay is a house favorite grape at Swigs. Clos du Tue-Boeuf makes some fine examples that showcase Loire mineral character, often in the form of what Todd has long characterized as peanut shell or wet chalkboard.
In 2008, one can count among those delicious wines “La Butte.” Modest in alcohol content, it’s light-bodied but nonetheless loaded with flavor. It reeks of mixed berries, cinnamon, and even hints of juniper and roasted coriander seed. Dry and tart, there’s a lot of natural fermented fruit flavors on the palate including a long, lingering blueberry or currant tartness. That dash of sour and a bit of astringency continue for quite a while — long enough, at least, to tap out a few sentences on a drinks blog.
- Alcohol: 11.8%
- Grape: Gamay
- Region: Touraine, Loire Valley, France
- Importer: Louis/Dressner
2004 Alliet Chinon L’Huisserie
My wife loves to play a game in which we have to talk about things that happened in the the year indicated as the vintage of whatever bottle of wine we’re drinking. This is apparently a thing. Despite being widely known among my three or four friends as a mirthful, loving person, I routinely reject this request with a blank stare.
However, I’m quite keen on learning what Mr. Philipe Alliet was doing in 2004. Because if his wine is any indication, he may have been practicing black magic or selling his soul to the devil.
As I took my first sniff of his 04 L’Huisserie from Chinon in France’s Loire River Valley, I wondered if my memory was failing me. I thought this particular cuvée was among his mid-level or more modest bottlings, but the nose was so nuanced, so deep, that I thought I must have been mistaken. A Google search or two later, I discovered that in fact the vines of this property were only planted in 2000 and that the 04 vintage was the first bottling of this particular wine.
Dumbfounded, I did what I’ve long done best: I kept drinking.
There’s no escaping the fact that this is superb, elegant cabernet franc. At this point, I’m convinced I might commit a felony to try what is arguably his most notable cuvée, the Coteau Noiré. The L’Huisserie has all the refinement of a classic bordeaux with a dirty, moderately funky aroma and lean but plentiful black fruit on the palate. The nose is accented by tar and smoke, yet it’s somehow beautiful — hardly the angry wine such descriptors as “tar” might indicate. Sour cherry grabs the mid-palate and hangs on to provide a clean, acidic, tannic finish. Absolutely delightful, pleasant wine with real substance to it. It’s hard to believe these vines are so young, but given the quality of this wine, it’s very easy to believe that Alliet may be among the very best producers Chinon has to offer.
Vintage: 2004
Producer: Philipe Alliet
Location: Chinon, Loire, France
Grape: Cabernet Franc
2004 Domaine de la Louvetrie Muscadet Sèvre et Maine “Le Fief du Breil”
My favorite Muscadet wines all seem to share a similar aroma that is difficult to describe, something like clean, white cotton sheets in a spring breeze, like laundry detergent makers want you to think their product smells like. Or it could be the smell of rain, a few, fat drops that fall on sun-baked concrete and immediately vaporize. It’s not exactly that either. It’s more like the core of the fruit, it’s essence, the smell of it and all the Melon de Bourgogne grapes before it. Or it could just be the result of aging on the lees. Whatever it is, all my favorite Muscadet wines have it.
Jo Landron’s 2004 Domaine de la Louvetrie Muscadet Sèvre et Maine “Le Fief du Breil” has it. That and crusty bread and lemon peel and the most distant note of fruit trees in bloom. A mouthful is marked with a bracing acidity that brings with it more citrus and eventually levels out across the taste buds to finish crisp. Our friends at Gang of Pour will vouch. Good luck finding a $14 bottle of white wine better than this one.
2007 Domaine de la Louvetrie Amphibolite Nature
Wine of the summer (so far)
I have spent the past couple months slowly depleting my local market’s shelves of Joseph Landron’s muscadet ($15 Detroit dollars). I find this wine inevitably drinkable in all situations. Most recently with an uncomplicated sandwich of lightly breaded, sweet fried lake perch on a Kaiser roll.
Amphibolite Nature is all green mango and dusty stones above a tart drink of sun, allegedly the expression of near-coastal France. So why is it a drink conjures the purple clouds on the horizon of Lake St. Clair after an evening of trolling for walleye, a languid stroll through the summer orchard, every thing green, soft curls of water caressing a sandy shore?
Yes, it is good with clams and broth. It is perhaps at its finest while reading poetry by candlelight on the front porch, marveling at the sadness of a train’s whistle. I fear this wine has rooted itself into my being and my being will not be satisfied until the very last bottle is dry. How does this happen?
2006 Château la Carizière Muscadet
The inner-ring suburban Detroit neighborhood where I live is full of commotion. Robins struggle for territory. Children play ball on the sidewalks even as Tigers battle Indians on living room televisions. Crocus and daffodil blossoms do their finest impersonations of the sun. It is an epic scene.
This is a neighborhood dominated by 20s era foursquares and bungalows. A neighborhood of porches and young couples sipping drinks in spring’s evening glow. Drinks like Joseph Landron’s organic 2006 Château la Carizière Muscadet.
A pale yellow glassful sits on the ledge next to my crossed feet and mere yards from the traffic of historic Woodward Avenue. A deep whiff carries the scents of white flowers, apple, lemon and polished river stones. A sip is all tart, yellow fruit, slightly briny, and finishing with the drawn taste of flaky rocks. Impossibly loud birdsong fills the sky. Trees blush red and green. Muscadet drinks like spring air.
Camping last summer
Unpacking the car in the humidity was sticky work. The damp air made me think of wine. The cabin was dark and cool with a poured cement floor and a small countertop we covered with food and drinks. Dinner would be roasted whole chickens and garden fresh pesto but not before a paddle across the deep blue water of Devoe Lake and into a backwater choked with lily. The backwater ended at a portage to the river proper where startled trout shot like squat arrows upstream beneath the canoes. The trout made me think of wine.
Before we reached the shelter of the cedar bank behind our cabin, four thirsty doe emerged from the woods. They drank and watched us paddle toward them and then leapt back into the woods when we were close enough. We grounded the canoes for the night. I rinsed my sweaty face in the cold water of the Rifle River and ascended the bank to eat.
A bottle of Cascina degli Ulivi Monferrato Nibio was opened while the pasta boiled on a camp stove. Though the sun had fallen behind the high birch that surrounded the cabin the air was still thick with heat. The Nibio knew no better. It could be thick too, thick with grapes and a sweetness that wasn’t really sweet but the memory of it, thick as it was and drinkable and even a healthy sip behind roasted chicken and pesto.
When the sun rose again we were in a meadow casting to slow rising trout. The tall grass behind us sparkled with dew. Warblers sang morning songs. Then a car spot and a long paddle down the river that was deep and sandy when it wasn’t flowing over gravel beds. The river made me think of wine.
It was a fine, long day and back at camp we devoured whitefish roe and smoked salmon on cream cheese and crackers. A crisp Duval-Leroy was popped. The cork was lost in the woods. The champagne was notably dry and clean and gone before the small tins of caviar. A Clos Roche Blanche Sauvignon finished the job. Out of the cooler it was tight and thin grapefruit. It warmed and bloomed into liquid applestones and yellow butterflies. Our backs ached in a satisfying way and we floated for a moment looking down at ourselves. We were obviously having fun.
Four pounds of Delmonico were thrown on to a white-hot grill. An Altos las Hormigas Malbec filled glasses. Rich and plum-fruit forward the Malbec synchronized with fat bites of steak. A Caprese salad built from homegrown basil and heirloom tomatoes tasted foolishly delicious after all. We slept like royalty on bare mattresses.
We spent the next day touring the Au Sable State Forest through Jack Pine wilderness, ate lunch at a south branch access noisy with drunken midday paddlers, and patted an orphaned fawn named Lucky. A Houghton Lake pizza dinner later we gathered fallen cedar for our last campfire.
2003 Duboeuf Fleurie Domaine des Quatre Vents made the rounds. Perhaps a bit too subtle for camping wine it nevertheless drank quite easily and offered aromas of purple flowers and cherry skins. The wine made me think of wine. A bottle of Chateau D’Oupia and a fire late into the night finished us off. The D’Oupia added pepper-spice to an assortment of olives and comradeship. Down at the cedar bank our canoes set for the morning and one final adventure. In an upstream pond two loons cried out into the night.
