By Mannie Berk on September 20th, 2011
 The outside flap on our first issue, 9/92. THE WINE BUSINESS has changed a lot since September, 1992, when we first published our newsletter. Prices are higher, critics more influential, fine wine lovers more numerous, and there are vastly more merchants competing for their business.
And the way that wine is sold has changed fundamentally. Nineteen years ago, fine wine was sold in stores. Today, it’s increasingly sold by email, over the phone, in auctions and via internet search engines. And the idea of writing (and mailing) a newsletter each month became obsolete years ago, when it became clear you could sell even more wine with quick emails and spend a lot less money doing it.
We, too, send out emails these days; it’s a fantastic way to share opportunities that come our way. But we believe that a wine merchant’s responsibilities don’t end with sourcing and selling wine; our job is also to educate, enlighten and inspire.
And so our newsletter has endured. And while we try to have something for everyone in each issue, it’s also important to share perspectives on those wines, winemakers and winemaking traditions that occupy a special place in our heart.
How it Started
Our first issue was mailed on Friday, September 18, 1992, from the Trancas Street Post Office in Napa. We had just leased an old sausage factory in Napa, whose thick walls were fantastic for the wine, provided the pallets didn’t tip over. (The floor sloped towards a central drain.) The factory had only a small office, in which we were huddled the next day (Saturday), waiting for the phones to start ringing. And so they did.
How could they not? That first issue was packed with great wines at prices that today seem impossible. You could pick off 1985 Sassicaia for $130 (a $2,000 bottle today) and in magnum for $265. Or how about buying ‘89 Henri Bonneau Réserve des Célestins for $42.95?
There were eleven Guigal single-vineyard Côte-Rôties, ranging from 1976 to 1988; the ’88s were $160. And if you loved Chave Hermitage, you could have the 1990 for $47.50 and the 1978 for $149.95. Even Pomerol’s Ch. Lafleur was accessible to mortal wine buyers; our seven-vintage vertical included the 1982 at $225; today, it would set you back $4,000. Two Château Rayas icons were also there: 1990 at $65 and 1978 at $110 (both averaging $1500 today).
That first issue was our one and only “fold-out.” The second issue established the eight-page format we use to this day. In fact, the October 1992 issue looked very much like the 298 issues to follow. The front page featured an homage to one of the winemakers we most admire, the late Max Schubert, leading off a 19-vintage offering of his greatest wine, Grange (1966-1986).
Our First Full Year
By January, 1993, we’d moved to our permanent home in Sonoma, starting the year with our first-ever Vega Sicilia feature, with vintages from 1948 to 1982.
April saw a paean to old Champagnes, another of our passions. And our May issue was entirely devoted to Italy: “The Red Wines of Italy: On the Verge of Greatness.” You have to remember that in 1993, Italian wine was still underappreciated in America, and it was not until the next year, 1994, when the 1990 Barolos made their first appearance, that the buzz really started.
June showcased Terry and Frances Leighton’s wonderful Kalin wines. October featured Bartolo Mascarello and antique decanters-the latter an autumn tradition that continues to this day. And starring in our December issue were rare old Madeiras, including 1827 Quinta do Serrado Bual for just $175.
Looking Ahead
Will there be a 600th issue nineteen years from now? We can’t even comprehend how our world, and the wine business, will look in 2030. But we expect to be here, sharing our passion with those who want to experience the full sweep of wine, with its rich history, noble traditions and unique characters. That is how it should be.
By Mannie Berk on June 8th, 2011
 Ancient barrels still in use at Lopez de Heredia. FOR THE FIRST three-quarters of the twentieth century, Rioja produced one of the world’s most distinctive styles of red wine–a marriage of Northern Spanish grape varieties (led by Tempranillo) aged in American oak for up to six or eight years or even longer. With the delicacy of red Burgundy, but aromatics all their own, they stood the test of time, developing into wines of great style and elegance with age.
Like other traditional schools of winemaking, this classic style of Rioja was an accident of history–having been born in the 1870s and 1880s when Bordeaux needed to replace wine lost when Phylloxera ravaged its vineyards. Rioja was a convenient source, as it lay just 200 miles south of Bordeaux and was spared Phylloxera until 1899. Now-famous companies like Lopez de Heredia, Marques de Murrieta and CUNE were founded–housed in exotic Victorian bodegas and drawing on hundreds, if not thousands, of acres of vineyards. They provided wine to the Bordelais but also to the world. And a singular style of winemaking evolved.
The Riojans proved that they could make wine as fine as those of France and do so on a large scale. But in the 1980s and 1990s, this traditional style of Rioja was a casualty of the world’s rush towards “sameness” in wine. There was an explosion of new wineries in Rioja, and virtually every one of them turned its back on the classic American oak barrels in favor of new French barriques. They also adopted vinification and aging techniques that we are more accustomed to see in California or Tuscany.
Fortunately for those of us who love traditional wine, old-style Riojas have not totally disappeared. A few diehard bodegas continue to turn out soulful Riojas like those made 50 or 100 years ago. The most notable example is of course Lopez de Heredia, which refuses to give into fashion and has changed very little in the past century. But there are others who continue to make at least some wines that are largely, if not purely, traditional, such as La Rioja Alta and CUNE.
But the other glimmer of light is that Riojas are among the world’s longest-lived red wines, capable of aging gracefully for 30, 40 or 50 years, with ease. And until very recently, old Riojas, lovingly cellared by the producers and great restaurants in Spain, could still be had at bargain prices.
The Contigo Affair
On June 1st, at Contigo in San Francisco, the availability of such wines made possible an evening of great Spanish food and classic Riojas that fifteen wine lovers will not soon forget. We were treated to 14 remarkable Riojas made between 1956 and 1976, each of which demonstrated Rioja’s gift for sensual mouthfeel, reassuringly familiar bouquets of vanilla, spice and fruit, and above all, astonishing consistency. In our experience, only traditional Barolo and Barbaresco age so dependably well among red wines.
 AGE's 1959 Fuenmayor Gran Reserva and Riojanas' 1956 Vina Albina Gran Reserva. Photo: Richard Jennings. Perhaps most impressive was the wines’ consistency at all levels of perceived quality and prestige. The Riojans traditionally subscribed to a system where the most humble reds were aged just a few years in barrel and were labeled “Crianza.” Better wines were given more time in wood, at the end of which they could be called “Reserva.” And the best wines were aged up to 6 or 8 years, or even longer, in barrel before wearing the coveted designations of “Gran Reserva” or “Reserva Especial.” Read more…
By Blake Murdock on March 13th, 2011
Blake Murdock is RWC’s National Import Director.
 Bodegas Olivares' oldest vines in Jumilla's Hoya de Santa Ana zone (Feb. 2011).
A RECENT TRIP to Spain offered plenty of chances to assess the impressive 2009s and the young 2010s.
One hates to generalize about vintages in a country as large as Spain, but 2009 seemed to yield great wines across most of Spain’s classic wine regions. Much like the 2009 Bordeaux, Spain’s 2009s are astonishingly concentrated yet, unlike some recent drought vintages, they have the necessary structure and balance for long-term aging. It’s the kind of gift vintage in which almost every serious producer has turned out outstanding wines. Peter Sisseck, for instance, has dubbed 2009 “My 1982 Bordeaux.”
Given the entirely justified acclaim for the 2009s, it will be very interesting to see if the market will recognize just how spectacular the succeeding 2010 vintage is. The wines are a real contrast in style. Where 2009 was a virtually perfect growing year, 2010 started with cool, rainy weather before segueing directly into hot, very dry conditions. A little rain in September was followed by a long final maturation period under nearly ideal conditions.
While 2010 will not be as uniformly great as 2009, the top wines–especially in the northern swath from Bierzo to Priorat–may prove to be even more compelling. The wines are nearly as concentrated as the 2009s and have similar measurements on most analytic tests. Yet, the 2010s have an effortlessness to them that is truly engaging. They seem light on their feet and have dazzling aromatic development at this young stage. This last character is something that young warm-climate wines often lack–at least until the wines have been in bottle for a couple of years. I found myself preferring the 2010s at a number of addresses.
Of course, there’s a long road for the 2010s until they are bottled. At this stage, there’s no doubting that 2009 has produced a blockbuster vintage in much of Spain, but 2010 may surprise everyone in the end. It seems to me that this may be 1989 vs 1990 Bordeaux in reverse. The 1989s are a touch less packed than the 1990s, but one can find many 1989s that are surpassing their brawnier 1990 siblings at this stage.
By Mannie Berk on December 1st, 2010
“… If I were a wine collector, I would take a break from buying up over-priced Claret and start adding a few (Barbeito) single cask bottlings to my collection, some of which are produced in exceptionally small quantities but can still be purchased for comparative pennies. Alternatively, I would be phoning up The Rare Wine Company and checking out their “Historic Series”. Neal Martin
IN AMERICA, 2010 will be remembered as a year of political upheaval. But the winds of change also blew through wine. Asia replaced the United States as the engine driving the top end of the world market, while a long-forgotten wine made an improbable comeback.
This was the year when, after decades of decline and neglect, Madeira finally dusted itself off, recapturing some of the lofty prestige it enjoyed two centuries ago. As 2010 nears its end, Madeira is indeed on a roll, gratifying those of us who have long believed in its greatness.
An Awakening in the Press
Madeira’s resurgence in 2010 can be measured in a lot of ways, but one choice would be to look at the sudden outpouring of words written about a long-ignored wine. A parade of major publications and websites has praised Madeira’s grace with food, its complexity and ageworthiness, and its place in history. And much of it’s been written by influential journalists and critics … something rarely seen a few years ago.
Madeira’s year is ending with a flourish, with Mike Steinberger’s piece on Slate in October and an article due out this month in Ed Behr’s influential Art of Eating.
Meanwhile, November saw Neal Martin weighing in with a lengthy article on his own Wine Journal and on eRobertParker.com. The article was built on several days of tasting and interviews in Madeira, where he was joined by Jancis Robinson, whose own recap appeared on www.jancisrobinson.com in May.
Barbeito’s Emergence
 Barbeito's Ricardo Freitas
It would be an understatement to say that both writers were impressed with what they tasted at Barbeito. Inspired by their visit, Jancis now suggests that Barbeito “could be regarded as the Lafite of Madeira,” while Neal calls it Madeira’s “Game Changer,” noting that “Madeira is entering a new ‘golden age’, spearheaded by Barbeito.” In other words, Madeira’s youngest company (founded 1946) not only may be making its most individual wines, it is showing the way to the future.
Responsible for Barbeito’s flowering is of course Ricardo Freitas, who, in the early ’90s, took over his family’s financially troubled winery. Neal tells how Ricardo made the courageous and farsighted decisions to pay his growers a premium for the best fruit and discontinue the bulk shipments that had been keeping his and other wineries afloat.
He also describes Ricardo’s artful use of the expensive canteiro method for slow, natural aging, as well as his unprecedented use of smal lots to maximize expression. Ricardo’s commitment to quality was unique—not only yielding a stunning array of wines, but altering Madeira’s trajectory. He was, in short, The Game Changer.
For 17 years, I’ve been privileged to be Ricardo’s partner in rebuilding Madeira’s fortunes and am excited about the recognition he is receiving on both sides of the Atlantic. In next week’s Rare Wine Co. newsletter, we will be featuring some of the Madeiras that enchanted Neal Martin and Jancis Robinson. The issue will be posted on our website, Monday evening, December 6, 2010.
By Mannie Berk on August 10th, 2010
IF TIME TRAVEL were possible, and we could deposit ourselves at the dinner table of one of the Founding Fathers, we’d surely be drinking Madeira. Madeira was the King of Wines, enjoyed not only before and after dinner, but throughout the meal.
The custom of drinking Madeira with food died out by the beginning of the twentieth century. By then, Madeira was a relic, consigned to your grandparents’ sideboard along with the sherry. And the idea of an ethereal rainwater Madeira alongside terrapin soup or a rich Bual with the roasted Canvasback duck was forgotten.
Madeira’s revival in America over the past decade has brought with it a renewed appreciation of Madeira as a food wine. I, for one, began to experiment with this in the late 1990s, inspired by research I’d done on Madeira consumption in 18th and early 19th century America. But my first serious foray into the topic was in 1999, when, over a six-month period, I organized a series of eight major Madeira events across the country.
 Booklet cover from the 1999 Madeira Party at The Herbfarm At four of these–Patroon and Judson Grill in New York; the Stonehedge Inn outside Boston, and The Herbfarm in Woodinville, Washington–Madeira was served with virtually every course. And the next spring, I collaborated with David Emil on his “Celebration of Madeira in America” dinner at the ill-fated Windows on the World on April 11, 2000.
All the dinners boasted mind-boggling lineups, each numbering 10 to 14 ancient Madeiras. The Judson Grill and Patroon dinners were both capped by one of the greatest Madeiras ever, 1802 Acciaioli Terrantez; the marquee wines at Windows and Stonehedge included 1862 d’Oliveira Sercial and 1834 Barbeito Malvasia; and among the stars at the Herbfarm were 1832 Acciaioly Terrantez and 1827 Quinta do Serrado Bual.
But these were not merely tastings of fabulous old Madeiras. The real test of each evening’s success was not just the wine, but how the pairings worked. Each chef took his job seriously, and some spent days experimenting with various combinations to find the most magical pairing. At least two chefs, at the Herbfarm and Windows on the World, paid homage to tradition, featuring a terrapin soup, while Windows chef Michael Lomonaco went even further, classically pairing a roasted Muscovy Duck with 1880 d’Oliveira Terrantez. But throughout the menus were elements that were both seasonally appropriate and sure to bring out the best in these very rich, opulent wines: chestnut, oxtail, foie gras, sweetbreads, pigeon and partridge, and for dessert, caramel, souffles, hazelnuts, chocolate and honey.
These evenings combined adventure with classicism, the obvious with the daring, but in all cases the menus were designed to showcase each style of wine from powerful, yet dry, ancient Sercials to luscious, yet profound, Malmseys and Moscatels.
TODAY
These 1999/2000 dinners were pioneers of their kind, and were followed by a growing appreciation of Madeira as a food wine. Some of the best work over the past decade has been done by my friend Ricardo Freitas of Barbeito. If you visit Barbeito’s website you’ll find Ricardo’s ingenious “food grid,” where he rates the experience you’re likely to get by pairing a number of his firm’s Madeiras (including RWC’s Historic Series wines) with various dishes.
Closer to home, a number of American chefs have been intrigued by how Madeira complements certain dishes. Cindy Wolf at Charleston in Baltimore pairs RWC’s New York Malmsey with her Malmsey-laced mushroom soup. Several years ago, one noted chef paired his smoked torchon of foie gras with Barbeito’s 1978 Sercial, and the results were spectacular. And when Max McCalman was the fromagier at Piccholine in New York, he championed sheep’s milk cheeses with dry Madeiras like Terrantez and Sercial.
But our vote for the most fascinating work goes to Grant Achatz at Alinea in Chicago, whose avant-garde cuisine regularly features Madeira pairings, usually from the RWC Historic Series. Among Grant’s explorations have been Boston Bual with spiced roast goose; New York Malmsey with a chocolate dessert featuring pomelo, egg yolk and smoke; and Charleston Sercial with a peanut butter and jelly amuse bouche (a combination worthy of mention in The Chicago Tribune).
Among chefs, Grant isn’t alone in discovering the virtues of Charleston Sercial with food. Last October, Chef Mario Batali won over 1000+ guests at the 2009 New York Wine Experience by boldly pairing Charleston Sercial with a wild boar dish of Wolfgang Puck’s creation.
Journalists have also been writing increasingly about Madeira as a companion to food. On December 3rd, Alice Feiring told Wall Street Journal readers that Charleston Sercial is her wine of choice for chestnut soup, noting that it “is like a salted caramel without its sugar.” (By the way, Sercial is not the only Madeira to go wonderfully with chestnut soup; at Patroon in 1999, the chestnut and truffle soup with 1905 d’Oliveira Verdelho was ambrosial.)
 Eric Asimov's "The Pour" column in the Times on Madeira and food And on December 16th, Eric Asimov devoted his entire “The Pour” column in The New York Times to the topic of Madeira with food. He had paired two of our Historic Series Madeiras, Boston Bual and Charleston Sercial, with “a simple main course of skirt steak, charred in a heavy iron skillet and topped with pickled Vidalia onions.” He wrote that “both were sensational with the steak. I give the edge to the sercial, which was sweet in the mouth but dry and tangy after swallowing. But the bual was delicious as well; sweeter, yes, but so well balanced that it complemented the steak and sweet-and-sour onions perfectly.”
In the blogosphere, Deana Sidney has incorporated Madeira with her passion for food history. Since last December, she has written twice about dishes with which Madeira features prominently as both a pairing and a final component, added just before serving: Beef Wellington and Scottish Grouse. The wines Deana used were 1912 and 1850 d’Oliveira Verdelho, respectively.
AFFINITIES
Madeira with food is very much a work in progress, with few guideposts from the past. American cuisine was far more limited 100 to 200 years ago, and the Madeiras were different, too. Because they were bottled after only a short time in cask, these “glass-aged” Madeiras were paler in color, without the concentrated richness and powerful scents of caramel and fresh roasted coffee beans that a long stay in wood imparts. The latter style really only became common after Phylloxera, when Madeira was much more likely to be left in barrel for decades.
But though we really only have decade’s worth of experience to go on, a few affinities are already coming into focus. One of the most important is that Madeira’s powerful acidity cuts through fat, making it a noble companion to fatty meats, creamy soups, custards, souffles and rich cheeses. This acidity also helps Madeira work with citrus in some sauces and compotes. Foie gras seems to go well with Madeiras of widely varying sweetness, so long as the wines carry the richness of wood-aging. The nuttiness of youngish Terrantezes and Sercials can pick up the nuttiness in hard and crumbly cheeses, while a richer nut like hazelnut wants a Madeira whose richness has been heightened by time in barrel. The cinnamon-clove spiciness and moderate sweetness of well-crafted Buals can give a lift to curries, while the allspice, cola and sassafras component of many Malmseys makes it a champion with spiced cakes and other desserts and, of course, chocolate.
THE FUTURE
These ideas only scratch the surface of Madeira’s potential as a companion to food. It’s only by trying and doing, and by sharing our experiences, that we’ll begin to understand which Madeira pairings are truly magical and which aren’t, and most importantly why.
Tom Murnan is one Madeira lover who would like to see a lot more discourse on the subject. I’ve known Tom for years; he attended our epic Chicago Madeira tasting in October 1999, as well as one of our two Leacock Madeira tastings in San Francisco last June. In fact, his report on the Leacock tasting appears in the summer 2010 issue of the International Wine & Food Society newsletter.
Tom also attended our Homage to Mario Barbeito dinner at Quince in San Francisco in April, and when he wrote about it (for Roy Hersh’s For The Love of Port newsletter), he went beyond the usual Madeira tasting notes, giving his frank assessment of the success or failure of each pairing. Our thanks to Roy Hersh for giving access to non-subscribers here.
There are many signs that interest in Madeira with food will continue to grow, but it’s important to understand two simple facts. The first is that, up to this point, even few wine professionals know much about how and why Madeiras work with certain dishes and not with others. What are the critical aspects? Is it the flavor, texture or sweetness, and how important is Madeira’s acidity and relatively high alcohol?
The second fact is that Madeira is so different from other wines that even the most talented and experienced chef may miss the mark unless the dish is developed with the same or similar Madeira available for tasting. With time, and much experience, chefs may be able to wing it, just as they do with Bordeaux, Burgundy and Super Tuscans, but for now, there is simply no substitute for having a glass of the Madeira at the chef’s elbow.
By Blake Murdock on July 16th, 2010
 Chef Paul Kahan
(Photo: Michael Stryder) I’ve been a devotee of Chicago’s Blackbird restaurant for at least seven years. So I was thrilled when the restaurant’s gifted chef, Paul Kahan, was asked to showcase the wines of Peter Sisseck’s Dominio de Pingus at a private home dinner that I attended during the recent Jackson Hole Wine Auction weekend.
I love what they do at Blackbird and its sister restaurants, Avec and Publican. There’s a common element to the food in all three places: though it seems outwardly simple, there’s a real depth to the flavors and a surprising complexity beneath the surface. This is not flashy cuisine, yet it appeals on so many levels that Blackbird must surely offer one of America’s most consistently complete dining experiences.
In Jackson Hole, Chef Kahan and his team had to come up with a menu based on wines they’d barely tried! As the Wholesale Director for Pingus’ national importer, The Rare Wine Co, I was asked to give some guidance. I sent Chef Kahan a bottle of ‘06 Flor de Pingus to sample, and some very simple notes on what I thought worked as pairings with these wines (i.e., meat, meat, game, meat). I also arranged for a bottle of Peter Sisseck’s one white wine, Clos d’Agon Blanco, to be delivered, but unfortunately, it never got to Chef Kahan’s hands. Given the constraints, I didn’t envy Paul’s job in the least.
The menu that Paul and his very engaged brigade came up with blew everyone away. What’s more, it was fascinating to hear the low key chef break down each dish between courses–and to realize how much thought and craft went into building these seemingly uncomplicated plates. You can download a .pdf of the “official” menu here, but each dish had several modifications as finally plated. I didn’t keep any detailed notes, but the highlights included:
2007 Clos d’Agon Blanco - This wine, from Spain’s Costa Brava, is made of Viognier, Marsanne and Roussane. It’s similar to a Northern Rhône white, but seems a little fresher and less nutty than some of those wines. The Kahan team came up with an off-the-charts combination of grilled octopus confit with Dungeness crab. It was served with a little whipped brandade and a couple of last-minute substitutions. I wish I’d kept notes because the pairing was dazzling–with the earthy/smoky quality of the octopus playing off the more overt “fishiness” of the brandade and crab0–with everything finding a mirror in the wine.
2001 Flor de Pingus - This wine is really entering a great drinking phase, with a touch of secondary development but still plenty of youthful energy. A beautiful piece of aged Pekin duck breast was served with small slices of seared foie gras with baby turnips. For palates jaded by too much foie gras, this course would be a relevation. The foie was used like that finishing pat of butter so common in French food. It added some mid-palate richness to the dish without overwhelming anything else. The hint of fruit lightened things up without overwhelming the dish, and really mirrored some of the fruit in the wine. Another fantastic pairing.
2004 Pingus - Still an infant, but many in the crowd remarked that it deserves its 100-point Wine Advocate rating … or it will when it matures. The pairing–with oysters–was, for me, a shocker. Coincidentally, before I learned of the menu, I actually joked with Paul at the morning intro meeting that “I wouldn’t serve Pingus with oysters, but it should work with just about anything else.” Paul replied, “We’re serving it with oysters.” It seems wildly counter-intuitive, but the dish absolutely hit the bull’s eye. The trick was to bring the oyster into the red wine realm. The oyster was smoked (or grilled?) which lessened its brininess, and then served on a glorious cube of wood-grilled pork belly surrounded by some “smoked” bonito broth. The descriptors aside, I still don’t know why this worked so well … but it was a dish that more than held its own with the powerful Pingus.
2000 Pingus - This was, for me, the wine of the night. From some of the lowest yields in Pingus’ history, it was always a black hole of a wine–full of promise buy very reticent. On this night, it finally showed a hint of what’s coming. There was a real core of fruit but the texture had mellowed and the aromatics were billowing from the glass. It’ll never match the sheer scale of the 2004, but it rivals it for completeness. Paul toned down his fireworks with this dish-a beautiful piece of lamb served with bitter chocolate, leeks, and a little blood sausage. It was a really satisfying course, and a subtle way to let the final wine show its stuff.
Pingus assistant winemaker Patricia Benitez was on hand to comment on the wines, and the beautiful Teton mountains were framed by the windows of host Baird Garret’s home. It’s hard to imagine a better setting for this dinner, or a better chef to pull it all together.
By Mannie Berk on June 29th, 2010
Born to Barolo’s greatest winemaking family, Aldo Conterno is the son of Giacomo Conterno and the brother of Giovanni Conterno. And like his brother, he was groomed to continue his father’s classic way of making wine.
While many have forgotten Aldo’s contributions to Barolo’s old school in the 1970s and 1980s, for at least two decades his wines were the essence of Old Style Barolo. But his style changed gradually in the 1990s, and the transformation accelerated as his sons became more involved in the family winery. Today, the Barolos made by Aldo and his sons Giacomo and Franco offer a different profile–one that straddles the line between traditional and modern.
Last Wednesday night, at San Francisco’s Perbacco restaurant, The Rare Wine Co. hosted a remarkable retrospective of Aldo Conterno Barolos spanning 62 years. The wines were broken up into four flights: Cicala 1982-1999; Bussia Soprana 1978-1989; a look at the famous 1971 vintage, and then, finally, three very rare “pre-separation” wines, from the period before Aldo left the Giacomo Conterno winery to establish his own cantina.
Revelations
If anyone had any doubts that Aldo was and is a fine winemaker, this tasting should have eliminated them, with virtually every wine showing a high level of instinct and craftsmanship, with the purity and nuance that are the essence of Barolo.
In the tasting, there were two 1982s, Bussia Soprana and Cicala, and both were tight and backward–as perfectly cellared bottles of great ’82s should be–and still a good five to eight years away from their peak. The 1978 Bussia Soprana was a superb representative of this monumental year. But unlike ’78s that still need to resolve their tannins, this bottle was perfection, with its opulent fruit overwhelming its structure.
The two 1971s–the rare Granbussia cuvée made entirely from Cicala fruit and the Barolo Riserva Speciale–were both typical of this famous vintage. They no longer possess the great power that the best 1978s show today, but there is plenty to remind us of the year’s stature.
And even the 1999 Cicala, made at a time when Aldo’s winemaking had changed significantly, seemed remarkably classic, mirroring the restraint of this structured year.
If there was one surprise for me among the post-1970 wines, it was the 1985 Barolo Cicala. Normally I favor the depth and classicism of the 1982s, finding 1985s to be delicious but sometimes a bit too soft to be truly great. But this bottle was an exhilarating exception: its concentrated richness and stunning texture providing a benchmark for what 1985s can be.
In Search of Answers
However, the part of the tasting that I most looked forward to was the chance to try some of the Barolos bearing Aldo’s name that came from vintages before 1969. That was the year when brothers Giovanni and Aldo Conterno parted ways, with Giovanni taking over the Giacomo Conterno winery and brand and Aldo establishing his own cantina, also in Monforte d’Alba.
 The 1937 Aldo Conterno Barolo Riserva Speciale tasted at Perbacco. On the surface, it seems strange that there would be bottles of Barolo bearing the “Aldo Conterno” label before that year; and it seems all the more impossible that there would be such vintages as 1931 and 1937, since he was born in 1931. The explanation has always been that these were wines made by Giacomo Conterno and that Aldo was given them when he and Giovanni divided the assets of their father’s winery.
Antonio Galloni confirmed this story in a conversation with Aldo Conterno a couple of years ago. Yet, one aspect of the mystery remained for me: the bottles themselves, which are all quite different from the bottles containing old Giacomo Conterno Barolos from the same vintages. Regardless of age, the old Aldo Conterno wines are in the same distinctive brown bottle that is Burgundy-shaped but with a notably longer neck and more sloping shoulders, and without the embossed Giacomo Conterno crest on the shoulder. How is it that they could be the same wines as the Giacomo Conterno Barolos?
A possible answer to that question can be found in the 1991 edition of Sheldon Wasserman’s Italy’s Noble Red Wines, where Wasserman wrote glowingly of tasting a 1931 Barolo with Aldo Conterno in 1985 that he said was bottled 16 years earlier from a 12.5-liter quarto di brenta. This of course would have been in 1969, the year of the separation, and this confirms that at least some of the wines given to Aldo were not yet in normal bottles in 1969–but were being stored in larger quarter brente for a slower evolution.
Another clue can be found on the neck label of some bottles of 1937 Aldo Conterno Barolo Riserva Speciale: “Questo vino di riserva speciale è stato travasato nel settembre 1969 per garantire la perfetta conservazione.” This translates as “This riserva speciale wine was transferred in September 1969 to ensure perfect preservation.” The perfect preservation that the label refers to is clearly the previous aging in massive quarter brente, so that when bottled in September 1969, the wine would have been far more youthful than a 1937 Barolo bottled in the early 1940s.
The Test
Our tasting included three pre-separation Aldo Conterno Barolos, all Riserva Speciales: 1967, 1964 and 1937. The first two wines closely mirrored the same vintages of 1964 and 1967 Giacomo Conterno Barolos we’ve tasted (no surprise since they would have been bottled at about the same time). The 1964 was delicate, as have been most bottles of 1964 Giacomo Conterno in our experience. But while the 1964 was a feminine example of that vintage, the 1967 was powerful–among the finest 1967s we’ve tasted, comparing well with the outstanding 1967 Giacomo Conterno Barolo. I would love to taste the two bottlings side by side.
Of course, we were most anxious to try the 1937 Riserva Speciale. I have had 1937 Giacomo Conterno Riserva Speciale several times in recent years and, apart from a brilliant bottle drunk with Roberto Conterno two years ago, most of the bottles have been somewhat faded (as you might expect from a ‘37 Barolo), still with charm, but without the depth of color or flavor of a younger Barolo. How would Aldo’s bottling stack up?
 The corks from the 1964, 1967 and 1937 Aldo Conterno Barolo Riserva Speciales tasted at Perbacco. It was, in fact, a shocker–deeper in color than the 1964, and rivaling the 1967 for youthful appearance. It still had plenty of fruit, and some tannin, and it tasted like a Barolo several decades younger. One taster was sure that the wine had been reconditioned–a logical suspicion under normal circumstances. But in fact, when we opened the bottle earlier that afternoon, it was still sealed with the original cork from 1969 and the opening was still covered by the original thin black foil that all the old Aldo Conterno bottles have. It was the original 1937 Barolo as bottled, probably from a 12.5-liter quarto di brenta, in 1969.
But why would this make the wine so youthful? The answer is that it received nearly a free ride for about three decades of its life, not only never leaving the village of Monforte d’Alba, but dwelling in a bottle more than 17 times the volume of a normal bottle. In other words, though it was vintaged in the 1930s, its exposure to oxygen during its life has been more like a Barolo from the 1960s.
In fact, for years, Aldo Conterno is known to have become engrossed with the idea that he could slow down the aging of his Barolos. As the photo below shows, he continued his father’s practice of setting aside quarter brente of his Barolos, bottling 39 of these supertankers from the 1971 vintage. And in 1990, in Barolo: Tar and Roses, Michael Garner and Paul Merritt wrote of Aldo showing them “a 1974 Bussia Soprana that had been aged for about seven years in 12.5 litre bottles (a quarter brenta), stored under sand to minimize temperature fluctuation and rebottled in 75cl size in 1984. The colour was surprisingly dark, the bouquet still floral and fresh with hints of aniseed, and the palate rich, spicy and well knit. The only sign of the wine’s true age was the way the tannin gave such an understated contribution on the finish.”
Further Explorations
We can’t wait to try other examples of very old Barolos bottled by Aldo Conterno. Was the incredible youthfulness of our 1937 a fluke? And was the 1931 that Wasserman said in 1985 “showed no signs of fading” an aberration? Or will other very old Aldo Conterno Barolos be just as age-defying?
It seems likely that at least some will be–provided they’ve been very well-cellared since bottling in 1969. A perfect bottle could be among the wine treasures of Piemonte–especially from an early vintage like 1931, 1937, 1945 or 1952.
These older bottles are well worth searching for, though don’t expect to find them easily. Rare even in 1969, how many could have survived until today?
By Mannie Berk on May 7th, 2010
 This wonderful 1940s caricature of Mario Barbeito was submerged for hours during the recent Madeira floods. But, miraculously, it survived with only some soiling. It took great courage for Mario Barbeito to start a new Madeira house in 1946. These were desperate times for the Madeira trade, with sales having hit rock bottom during World War II.
The U.S. market, just beginning to recover from Prohibition, dwindled to virtually nothing as our government banned the poorly made wartime glass bottles coming out of Portugal. And the all-important British market was devastated by years of Nazi treachery. Because of marauding U-Boats, Madeira merchants found themselves unable to ship wine to England, and a number lost irreplaceable wine when their London cellars were bombed during Luftwafte air raids.
The situation was so bad that the last two British houses to remain independent, Miles and Cossart, would soon throw in the towel, consolidating with all the other British houses in the Madeira Wine Association.
Yet, Mario Barbeito had a vision that he could make it in that difficult time. Like H.M. Borges in 1877–who founded his own company into the teeth of Phylloxera– Read more…
By Blake Murdock on May 3rd, 2010
Blake Murdock, RWC’s National Sales Director, reports from Spain and Portugal, while visiting our growers and checking in on the juice from the 2009 vintage. Included below are Blake’s insightful notes from his tastings at each producer’s bodega, as well as his reviews of several culinary stops along the way.
–Paul Tortora
 A view into the cellar at Dominio de Pingus. (Photo by R. Petronio)
O V E R A L L, 2009 is going to be a great vintage for top estates across much of Spain, with the best wines showing a magical balance of ripeness and restraint.
Growing conditions. From May through September, it was relatively dry and cool (unlike 2003). By mid-September, most regions had adequate numbers (sugars, acids, etc.) to harvest. In most places, there was some rain in mid- or late September, and many estates rushed to harvest, but those who waited were rewarded with an Indian Summer with nearly perfect conditions. The vines resumed ripening, and any temporary dilution caused by the rains dissipated. Nonetheless, wines harvested before the rains may be good, but most likely, not great.
The Bodegas
Alvaro Palacios (Priorato). Not surprisingly, 2009 has yielded some blockbusters here. Equally of note, though, were the amazing 2008s, particularly L’Ermita, which Alvaro considers his finest ever. [With 2.5 barrels produced, it will be painfully scarce.] Yields in 2008 were tiny, particularly for Garnacha which suffered from a poor flowering. The summer was long, but very cool, and the resulting wines are fresh and refined, like the 2007s but a touch more intense and defined. They also have aromatics rarely seen in Mediterranean wines, and the quality extends from L’Ermita all the way down to Camins.
Pingus (Ribera del Duero). Peter Sisseck, who believes that 2009 has everything, commented enthusiastically: Read more…
By Mannie Berk on April 9th, 2010
This winter saw its share of horrific natural disasters, from the earthquakes in Haiti and Chile, to the devastating floods in Madeira. Tens of thousands of Americans (and American companies) offered aid, and The Rare Wine Co. wanted to do its part. And we did it in a way that we felt was right for us: we co-hosted charity wine dinners in New York and San Francisco to aid victims of the Haiti earthquake and the Madeira floods.
We were happy to donate the wine, and Roberto Conterno was pleased to join us as our wine collaborator for the Haiti dinner in New York. But we needed to partner with great restaurants willing to absorb the entire cost of an unforgettable dining experience for 18 to 25 guests. Apart from the obvious expense of creating transcendent cuisine, they would have to devote not only their best private dining rooms for an evening but a substantial part of their staff. In other words, remarkable generosity was needed.
In deciding which restaurants to approach, two criteria were at the top of our list: great cuisine and great character. And it just so happened that the two restaurants we chose were as excited about the idea of doing something meaningful as we were.
For the Haiti benefit on March 15th, New York’s Eleven Madison Park was a magnificent partner. General Manager Will Guidara, Chef Daniel Humm and Wine Director John Ragan pulled out the stops for a simply amazing evening. The cuisine was matched by the wine, a vertical comparison of Giacomo Conterno Barolo and Monfortino from 1958 to 1999, with 1937 Barolo Riserva to conclude. The dinner, which raised $21,000 for CHF International for rebuilding efforts in Haiti, was the subject of Eric Asimov’s The Pour in The New York Times on April 7th, as well as his own blog on April 6th.
Coast to Coast
We held our benefit to aid victims of the Madeira floods just three nights later in San Francisco at one of our favorite restaurants anywhere: Giancarlo Paterlini’s and Suzette Gresham-Tognetti’s Acquerello. This wonderfully intimate restaurant, beloved by San Franciscans for Suzette’s superb Northern Italian cuisine, crafted an inspired menu, and the staff provided incredible service. Our wines were exciting as well, pitting Raveneau against Dauvissat in 1996, Lopez de Heredia against Cune in 1976 and the greats of traditional Brunello in 1982.
On behalf of those who lost family and homes in Madeira in February, we are deeply grateful for Giancarlo’s and Suzette’s astonishing generosity to make this magical evening possible. The $9000 raised went to support Caritas, the local equivalent to the Red Cross in Madeira, which has led efforts to give aid to the flood victims.
There are other meaningful contributions we would like to acknowledge: Reidel provided the massive amount of stemware needed for the Haiti Benefit; and Marco DeFreitas, Premium Port Wines, Pereira d’Oliveira and Vinhos Barbeito donated rare Madeiras for the Acquerello Dinner. And in addition to all those who made generous donations to attend the two dinners, a few friends and customers made special “above and beyond” donations, for which we are very grateful.
For the menu and wine pairings at the Haiti Benefit at Eleven Madison Park, click here.
For the menu and wine pairings at the Madeira Benefit at Acquerello, click here.
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