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 [...]]]>

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.

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 [...]]]>

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.

While many have forgotten Aldo’s contributions to Barolo’s old school in the 1970s and 1980s, for at least two decades his [...]]]> 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?

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 [...]]]>

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–Barbeito launched a new Madeira house at a time when many others were bailing out. He used his imagination, good business practices and love of history to build his young company into one of the island’s last  independent houses.

Most notably, he took advantage of the weak market in the 1940s and 1950s to buy up substantial stocks of rare vintages, which were to serve the company well in coming years.

Mario Barbeito led his eponymous company for nearly four decades. After his death in 1985, his able and charismatic daughter, Manuela, managed the firm, before turning over its management, and even the winemaking, to her gifted son, Ricardo Freitas.

Remembering Barbeito

This year marks the 25th anniversary of Mario Barbeito’s death and so, this spring, we invited Ricardo to collaborate on a pair of Madeira dinners in the United States in honor of his grandfather. Between us, we came up with a dozen fabulous old Madeiras that had a particular association with Mario Barbeito. Six of the wines came from Mario Barbeito’s private cellar, including wines that we had never before tasted or even known about.

Two of the wines are likely never to be seen again, having been the last 40 ounces or so remaining in their original demijohns. They gave a special meaning to something that Ricardo said at both of the commemorative dinners: until the day he died, his grandfather never really had any money. But he did have a lot of great wine, and that was the most important thing to him.

To host the events, we hooked up with two of America’s finest restaurants, The Modern in New York and Quince in San Francisco. Both chefs–The Modern’s Gabriel Kreuther and Quince’s Michael Husk–created brilliant menus to showcase the Madeiras, course by course.

We were fortunate that a number of experienced Madeira tasters were on hand both days, and two have so far posted detailed tasting notes: Marco DeFreitas and Richard Jennings. Both sets of notes are now available, with photos, on the For the Love of Port website, courtesy of Roy Hersh. If you click here, you’ll find Marco’s superb notes on the Madeiras in New York and equally lucid comments from Richard on the Madeiras in San Francisco.

Roy Hersh expects to publish his own notes in the next issue of the For the Love of Port newsletter. (For subscription information, click here.)

–Paul Tortora

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: “This is my 1982 Bordeaux!” In light of the exceptional quality of the fruit, Peter has decided to reduce considerably the amount of new wood, and intends to rack most of the Pingus and Flor de Pingus into used barrels by spring. Also, Peter used a proportion of stems in most wines, and almost 80% with the cult wine, Pingus Cuvée Amelia.

Bernabeleva (San Martín de Valdeiglesias). In his third year at this estate, winemaker Marc Isart noted that ‘09 was challenging for the thin-skinned Garnacha grape. Nonetheless, Bernabeleva’s ’09s, which are resting in 2nd and 3rd passage barrels, are gorgeous and express, perhaps more than ever, this zone’s uniquely Pinot-like aromatics. The pHs are around 3.2, further distancing these Garnachas from those produced in any other region.

Bodegas Olivares (Jumilla). Two thousand nine was a nearly perfect vintage at this estate. Once again, the wines have tremendous richness, but exhibit real restraint and harmony. They are also experimenting with large, 3000L barrels and the first set of wines raised in these casks are very promising.

Descendientes de José Palacios (Bierzo). When I visited, the 2009s were in Malo, and therefore difficult to assess. The 2008s, though, continue the string of great, classic vintages that started with 2006. In fact, the 2008s show the most terroir specificity of any vintage made here to date. Meanwhile, the 2007s are like a synthesis of 2006’s rich fruit and 2008’s intense delineation. In other words, they’re complete wines that would stand on the table with most 1er cru red Burgundy.

Quinta do Feital (Alvarinho). The 2009 growing season was challenging for Marcial, requiring very strict selections. But this is a great year to showcase how serious Marcial’s selections are, as the wines are going to be vastly superior to much of what’s produced in Rias Baixas, and they’re approaching the great 2008s. The 2008 Dorado is about to be bottled, and it keeps gaining in weight and complexity. I dare anyone to taste this next to any peer in Rias Baixas–it shows far more weight on the palate and more intense aromatics in the glass.

Restaurants

Esteban (Porriño). This was my second trip to this modern seafood restaurant. They get everything right, and avoid many of the tiresome “trying too hard” intricacies of many top Spanish restaurants today. Traditional food with one or two updated touches on each plate. We had a gorgeous whole Daurade with toasted garlic and fresh olive oil that was perfect, and washed it down with a bottle of Marcial Dorado’s 2006 Alvarinho “Dorado - Unsulfured”.

Casa Paco (Pinoso). Located near the town of El Seque, in the province of Alicante, this little restaurant is legendary for its wild hare and snail paella. Connoisseurs regularly make the drive from Valencia, Murcia, or even Madrid to get a taste of this masterpiece. The local snails feed on wild herbs, and have an intensely “Garrique-y” flavor that needs nothing but salt and olive oil as dressing. The Paella is almost (but not quite) burnt to the pan, and scraping the caramelized rice off the communal pan is intoxicating.

Torrijos (Valencia). Valencia’s Ca’Sento remains my favorite dining experience in Spain, but several people had told me that Torrijos was even better. Sento gets the perfect blend of innovation (he worked at El Bulli before returning to his family restaurant) with traditional Valenciana cuisine. On this night, Torrijos struck me as a restaurant that was trying too hard. A composed “Russian Salad” seemed pointless. Hake with artichokes and ryebread soup had too many flavors, but not enough intensity, to find a focus. A Cannelloni filled with meats and topped with black truffle arrived baked in a clay crust. It was topped with black truffle and offered a lot of flavor for the first 2 bites, but grew tiresome by the end of the plate. The sommelier didn’t know her list, and didn’t even have the first two bottles that I ordered. I’ll go back to Ca’Sento on my next trip!!!

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 [...]]]>

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.

Above, from left to right, vineyards at Huet (Vouvray) and at Királyudvar (Tokaji).

In recent years, one of Europe’s most remarkable marriages of wine-producing estates has occurred, with the joining of Domaine Huet, in Vouvray, with Királyudvar, in Hungary’s storied Tokaji region. Each property is owned–either entirely or in the majority–by American Anthony [...]]]>

Above, from left to right, vineyards at Huet (Vouvray) and at Királyudvar (Tokaji).

In recent years, one of Europe’s most remarkable marriages of wine-producing estates has occurred, with the joining of Domaine Huet, in Vouvray, with Királyudvar, in Hungary’s storied Tokaji region. Each property is owned–either entirely or in the majority–by American Anthony Hwang. And each estate is making arguably the most compelling wines in its region today. The winemaker is also the same: the brilliant Noël Pinguet.

Last month, The Rare Wine Co. was honored to be appointed exclusive US agent for both estates–continuing our growth as a unique source of handcrafted wines from Europe’s greatest small producers.

Domaine Huet

Started by the Victor Huet in 1928, and raised to worldwide renown by his son, Gaston, Domaine Huet has been the Loire Valley’s transcendent name for 80 years. The estate owns two of Vouvray’s greatest vineyards–Le Mont, purchased in 1957, and Clos du Bourg, purchased in 1963–in addition to their own outstanding plantation, Le Haut-Lieu. Depending on the year’s conditions, they produce wines that range from Chablis-like Sec to riveting, world-beating dessert wines.

When Gaston Huet’s son showed little interest in taking the reins at Domaine Huet, his son-in-law, Noël Pinguet stepped into the breach. Starting in the 1980s, Pinguet worked side-by-side with Gaston-learning from the master, but also introducing ideas like Biodynamics for viticulture. When Gaston passed away in 2002, the domaine could have been split by the crushing inheritance taxes. Noël sought outside help, and Tony Hwang, arrived as a financial partner. Tony had long appreciated Huët’s wines, and his investment stabilized the estate’s finances and allowed Noël the freedom to be uncompromising in his quest for quality.

Királyudvar

On the opposite side of Europe, Hungary’s Tokaji had been a prestigious wine region for hundreds of years, but fell into neglect during the 20th century. After the fall of communism, numerous groups invested in rehabilitating this nearly forgotten region. The most sagacious of these investors was Tony Hwang. In 1997, he partnered with the region’s most eminent winemaker, István Szepsy, and, together, they rebuilt the historic Királyudvar estate into possibly Tokaji’s finest modern practitioner.

Meanwhile, István Szepsy was developing his own estate in Tokaji. When he departed Királyudvar, Tony Hwang asked Noël to assist in Hungary. There are a lot of parallels between the Loire’s Chenin Blanc and the similarly rich, but high-acid, varieties of Tokaji, and Noel’s experience began to pay dividends quickly. He introduced biodynamics to the vineyards, resulting in an earlier harvest and healthier fruit. Beyond the vineyards, he recognized the grapes’ potential to produce great dry wines, as well as the traditional dessert wines, not unlike the wines in his native Vouvray.

With the thoughtful stewardship of Tony Hwang, and the rich experience of Noël Pinguet, both estates are today producing profound wines. At the same time, they are also helping to push the quality boundaries forward for their respective regions.

Huet and Királyudvar are precisely the kinds of domaines that The Rare Wine Co. exists to champion. The wines themselves are profound, and both estates have the rich narrative arcs–in the vineyards, in their histories and, most importantly, in the glass–that enable them to transcend category.

As we mentioned in the previous post, the weekend’s heavy rain was a continuation of unsettled weather. In fact, according to one producer, it has rained daily throughout the winter, so [...]]]> Since Sunday, we’ve spoken to three past or present wine producers, and are learning more about the extent of the damage and what caused it.

As we mentioned in the previous post, the weekend’s heavy rain was a continuation of unsettled weather. In fact, according to one producer, it has rained daily throughout the winter, so that the ground was saturated with water. Saturday morning’s rains fell heaviest along the south coast and in the mountains, and there was nowhere for it to go but down the rivers, three of which travel through Funchal. It was here (and in the town of Ribeira Brava) that the physical damage was most concentrated.

The rain began early Saturday morning and by that afternoon, the rivers in Funchal had exceeded their capacity and the water and debris began to overspread the surrounding streets and push through buildings. Cellars quickly filled with water, and there is great concern about potential loss of life in underground parking garages. There may also be a substantial amount of old wine stored both at ground level, and particularly in cellars, that was  lost.

As of today, Monday, the official death toll is 42, but it’s sure to rise. Recovery efforts are being hampered by the vast amount of debris in some streets. Streets a quarter mile from the sea have been described to us as looking like a beach, thickly covered with sand and stones. And in the streets along Funchal’s rivers, large rocks have been deposited four to five feet deep.

As we have further information on this tragedy, we will provide it.

To my mind, one of the past decade’s most positive wine developments has been the world’s growing appreciation of “transparent” Chardonnay, whose crystalline clarity  magnifies the minerality of the soil in which it is grown.

Such Chardonnays have challenged many preconceptions about popular taste. They revel in [...]]]>

Jean-Philippe Fichet in his cellar in Meursault (November 2009).

To my mind, one of the past decade’s most positive wine developments has been the world’s growing appreciation of “transparent” Chardonnay, whose crystalline clarity  magnifies the minerality of the soil in which it is grown.

Such Chardonnays have challenged many preconceptions about popular taste. They revel in their touch of austerity, not having been made from grapes stripped of acidity by climate, late harvest or deacidification. They’re slender of body, without the Rubenesque size we’re supposed to covet. And they lack the toasty new wood that, we’re told, no wine drinker can resist.

In fact, the magic of these wines is not easily found, but once discovered it will grip a wine lover’s soul and never let it go.

The Wellspring

A quarter century ago, about the only place you could find Chardonnay of great minerality was in France. There were pockets of such wine in the Côte d’Or, but opulence was still the cardinal virtue of a fine Côte d’Or white. You were far better off looking in Chablis, where a few old-fashioned producers were content to let the grape and soil speak with minimal translation.

Today, this philosophy is flourishing in Chablis, as more of its top producers strive for site expression unmasked by extract or the taste of wood. Such thinking is also spreading through the Côte d’Or, especially in Meursault, where a handful of growers are making some of the world’s most thrillingly complex, and profoundly mineral Chardonnay. These wines are made possible by a very low water table, which forces the vine roots deep underground, magnifying the intense stoniness of the village’s soils.

Not that long ago, growers in Meursault dared not emphasize their wines’ natural stoniness; they were more interested in making classic “buttery” Meursault. It wasn’t until the 1990s when–building on the earlier work of Coche-Dury and Comte Lafon–Jean-Marc Roulot perfected the idea of crafting intensely mineral Meursault. Ever since, Roulot’s wines have been benchmarks for those who love Chardonnay of blinding clarity, complex minerality and laser-guided acidity.

Jean-Philippe Fichet

Until recently, no lover of Roulot’s mineral style of Meursault would question that he makes the best examples. But with the emergence of the equally gifted Jean-Philippe Fichet, Roulot is no longer necessarily the clear leader.

Little-known outside Burgundy until recently, Fichet’s pedigree is well-established, with a track record of stunning Meursaults since the 2000 vintage. And he has achieved this primarily with village level lieu-dit (non-premier cru) vineyards. In fact, if I had to choose just one grower’s lieu-dit Meursaults to drink from the past decade, I would have a very hard time choosing between those of Roulot and Fichet. And if cost were a consideration, Fichet wins hands-down, since his wines can be had for about two-thirds the price of Roulot’s comparable cuvées (not to mention those of Lafon and Coche!).

The Glorious 2007s

As good as Fichet’s wines have been since 2000, the greatest measure of his talents can be found in his newly released 2007s. It’s a vintage made for his style of winemaking, and he took full advantage, producing wines that are breathtaking for their purity and the way they reveal the soil.

Next week you can find out for yourself, as Fichet’s 2007s are featured in The Rare Wine Co. newsletter.  Showcased are his overachieving Bourgogne Blanc Vieilles Vignes, made from a high proportion of vines a stone’s throw from the premier cru Meursault-Charmes; his thrillingly diverse Meursault Tesson, Chevalières, Gruyaches and Meix Sous le Chateau lieux dits; and his lone Meursault premier cru,  Genevrières, of which just two barrels were made.

Subscribers to our newsletter should receive their copies on Monday or Tuesday next week. But everyone can see the offer Monday night at www.rarewineco.com.

Video Feature

In the meantime, we’re delighted to share with you some footage from our recent vintage with Jean-Philippe, who talks with RWC’s Blake Murdock about his special parcel of Bourgogne Blanc Vieilles Vignes.