tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75743452009-12-04T19:38:00.253-06:00750 mLnoreply@blogger.comBlogger411125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-75995602074914584122009-12-04T17:21:00.006-06:002009-12-04T19:38:00.265-06:00

Maybe it's true that nothing good lasts forever, but I'd always assumed chardonnay was the exception. At its best, it goes from powerfully tart, food-friendly fruit flavors (apple, apple skins, pear, and raw quince) to an unceasing, arm-chilling nuttiness that I believe might actually resemble the outer limits of the universe (this tasting note has proven difficult to test). But at its worst, it

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-40250215113990969492009-12-02T08:21:00.009-06:002009-12-03T15:13:38.873-06:00

A close friend and former colleague today tipped me to some heartbreaking news. And while it's not my place to be involved in matters personal or business, this one impacts anyone who enjoys reading this blog. Because one of the very dear inspirations for my work--as much as I'd like to pretend I have no biases--is The Eyrie Vineyards, whose wines I like well enough, but whose culture, I adore.

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-70084202520779485972009-11-27T19:27:00.010-06:002009-11-30T11:51:51.627-06:00

People have lost their jobs for less, but I'm self-employed on 750 mL, so I can say this: you must try this wine exactly once in your life... But in the meantime, here are my years-old notes on the dry 2002, for which this 94 is a telling omen, and the sweeter 1995 Moelleux. They're proof that I'm getting old, and that nothing could be better.

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-63087583636966782372009-11-19T18:58:00.021-06:002009-12-01T12:46:50.192-06:00

I would have had this wine sooner, but I was looking for my good corkscrew. The one I've had since I was 21. A compass to gauge perfect center on the cork closure. Christmas lights. I had to put on my mood ring. Maybe more than any other producer, Belle Pente captures Oregon pinot noir. Relax. Don't get up in arms at me about The Eyrie. Or Ponzi. Or any other boy up north. Let me clarify myself.

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-7172594295688660902009-11-12T18:42:00.001-06:002009-11-12T19:54:44.211-06:00

I might as well have been holding the oracle of Delphi, because everyone was transfixed and no one would dare question me while this was on the table. At L2O, Chef Laurent Gras' seafood capital of the world... most statements begin and end there. Yeah, I was at L2O, and it was amazing, but it was also a bit of a landmark for this wine. Because at the end of the night, tempura lobster, Osetra,

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-46267856594311832952009-11-07T09:01:00.004-06:002009-11-09T07:29:43.732-06:00

You look surprised. I thought you expected me. As some of your may have noticed, 750 mL recently introduced Paire, a personalized wine pairing service that we'll be running for the next week. The idea's simple. Post your meal plans and we'll send you a one-on-one email with our ideas for wine pairings. Nothing is off limits. But key to this is that your email address works. So to Chicken Mamou,

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-49189956897913045482009-10-27T20:01:00.009-05:002009-10-28T14:38:02.078-05:00

I swear I recognize your face. I always feel that way with grenache--whether the juicy, dusty red is from Spain, Australia, southern France, or here in Columbia Valley, where I now have suspicion to believe the ground is made of marrow bones and the spirit of some ancient, possibly Aztec, god of cocoa beans. I'm not so sure we're at a place yet to say what Washington wine means--not so much as

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-90504681980762745312009-10-26T18:34:00.000-05:002009-10-26T17:09:16.053-05:00

I believe in the goodness of others because of this wine, by far the best of America's Bordeaux-style bottles. Yes, class is in session. There are fuller bodied wines. Fruitier. Sweeter. Earthier. Better with roast beef. But none so evocative. The label is just semantics--a merlot, sure, but calling it one is like calling chicken soup chicken. Yes it's the most important component and drives a

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-77714399683055401362009-09-30T08:40:00.015-05:002009-10-01T19:55:51.854-05:00

While I often question the purpose of these lists, the truth is, they're very necessary. And maybe for me the problem's never been that they exist, but instead why. When I first started in the wine business, I was greener than some of the chardonnays I would come to love, and so blanketed myself in that cold alleyway of wine knowledge with reams of wine mags. At the time, this blog was loosely

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-73120874922120424602009-09-23T18:28:00.004-05:002009-09-25T19:47:42.005-05:00

As common and noticed is the tide, I've drank this wine. It's been constant in my glass--a wine I've never bought retail, mind you, but something like my fat, love-starved cat that just keeps showing up under my arm. I would pet you if I could. So why never write about it, and why write about it now, when I don't even have a glass in front of me... More to come....a great coincidence, looks like

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-52151484039207529112009-09-17T19:46:00.007-05:002009-09-18T16:27:17.588-05:00

I don't ever mean to make sourdough. I love to cook, but I hate baking bread. And by the time the dough's proofed, I've already turned off the stove, made biscuits, eaten, drank wine, and played a couple games of Madden. For that much time, I'd rather drop the $4 to buy some genius' wood-fired loaf instead. So, I always end up with sourdough--a Kitchen Aid mixing bowl of unbleached flour, yeast,

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-24738910820178594242009-07-29T19:42:00.010-05:002009-07-30T09:10:03.641-05:00

It tasted like a science experiment, so I thought I'd run my own tests. This is the taste that made me hate wine when I first tried it thousands of gallons ago. Sharp, acidic, alcoholic--it tastes so damn adult, like something they brought out at the big table over Thanksgiving. We weren't supposed to touch it, but the truth is, nor was anyone else. They took it in out of ritual, a little like

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-27803873900371067252009-07-07T19:48:00.001-05:002009-07-08T09:24:37.417-05:00

Fitting that I'd drink this after Eyrie, who planted the country's first pinot gris. Funny how so little has changed. Maybe, I'll admit, this isn't a varietal much suited to change, but the plush sweet tart candy profile is starting to wear thin. In every way Arcane's wine is doing nothing wrong. And while I'll usually commend some Basque whites and albarino for that trait alone, Alsace and Italy

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-35162517623743245692009-07-06T14:24:00.000-05:002009-07-07T09:55:52.064-05:00

Love is an iterative process. It changes you, you change the one you love, and it takes a little editing, fidgeting maybe, to get it all to work out in the end. I know wine changes. Usually, it goes bad. I know I change. Quickly get sick of the wine I might've drank all summer long last year. But rarely do we both change right enough to know each other better. One year after my first, the 02

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-17739067492235950772009-06-07T22:49:00.008-05:002009-06-09T16:57:28.761-05:00

It's an honor to drink Champagne from a winemaker whose house style is apparently "perfection." That's the flavor profile of the 2000 Terres de Noel, Jean Milan's tete de cuvee bottling, one of the best vintage Champagnes of the new millennium. Seen from any side, it's the height of chardonnay, whose 65-year-old grand cru vines make up 100% of this single-vineyard wine. It's no coincidence that

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-45315492839964878442009-05-24T12:45:00.009-05:002009-05-25T19:59:14.150-05:00

I remember my first Italian beef sandwich. Not because it had anything to do with culture or the aura of Chicago street food. It was the first thing I ever bought myself, with a few weeks worth of the pocket change and gum wrappers immigrant parents called an allowance in the 80s. I'd never forget the taste, but really it was the royal power I felt--8-year-old kid pressed back in the formica

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-37643688655713846412009-05-20T19:16:00.008-05:002009-05-21T12:03:14.259-05:00

I hate grad students. Not you, but most of them. Not all of them. Certainly not the ones pursuing some vocation or scientific research that four years of college just couldn't contain. But, well, you know the ones. The ones who are going to change something--usually everything--with the gentle wave of a 27-page paper. I don't hate them for their ambition or ideals; neither their passion nor their

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-41531873342020264442009-04-14T19:33:00.011-05:002009-04-17T00:01:27.315-05:00

I'm putting on weight. That's not an observation (I've actually lost 20 pounds over the past year--hurrah), it's a pledge. Because I'm eating an entire sea bass with this wine, and I don't see how I can go another day without saying that again. This is riesling for the chardonnay drinker who hates his friends' chardonnays. A surprisingly lean, austere white from the otherwise Chinese massage

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-42987139459220176952009-04-12T14:30:00.007-05:002009-04-12T15:15:29.833-05:00

If arugula made a wine, this would be it. Which is to say, it takes all that's light, lovely, and easy about the world, and adds a powerful punch. Fuck you, lettuce. If grass represents the sun, these grapes--either some hardcore stainless steel chardonnay and gewurztraminer or some incredible sauvignon blanc, I'm not sure--are a sunburn cooking on the bottom of your chin as you sleep. It's a

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-364035636429138322009-04-11T11:55:00.006-05:002009-04-12T10:13:20.897-05:00

The night started with the klink of a glass. No toast, no celebration--just the drop of three ice cubes into my neighbor's chardonnay. Paso Robles on the rocks. To be fair, it probably was pretty hot and, hey, if it tastes good drink it. But here's where I started getting worried. That Paso had nothing on my viognier, whose thick, lead-weight glass was doing everything it could to hold the 14.5%

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-44944624339159439522009-04-01T08:44:00.007-05:002009-04-01T11:01:15.776-05:00

I write about wine because I can't help it. I have to talk about this, and my voice is just too monotone to hear everyday. Not for you, for me. I can barely stand it. But reading my work lets me channel other voices. Today, in my head, I sound like Barry Gordy. Yesterday, it was the Indian guy from House. That one perk would be enough. But every now and then, I'm fortunate enough to get something

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-28012514205483742642009-03-15T13:29:00.003-05:002009-03-15T16:13:11.566-05:00

Recession: Bring it on. Because the Saint-Hilaire bubbly isn't scared. And it's not just good enough to be an alternative to pricey Champagne, it eliminates the need for at least three popular brands I can think of off the top of my head. I won't say which ones, but these are three your local liquor store will recommend if you ask for a "nice, light Champagne; we're having guests over, maybe some

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-865922165546845392009-03-02T20:11:00.010-06:002009-03-03T20:24:32.339-06:00

The thing is, Charlie is, in fact, a pretty nice guy. But this wine tastes completely like an asshole. A syrah on steroid demiglace, this single-vineyard bottling comes from the hottest slope in Washington--south-facing, no less, from a vineyard called "Sundance," perhaps as close as we get in the New World to France's Martian Cote-Rotie. It's the kind of wine that will burn the hair off your

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-81024825422808349332009-02-25T10:26:00.000-06:002009-05-25T11:56:38.823-05:00

In Oregon, they call this Bergstrom. In California, they call this Sea Smoke. In the Rhone, it is Domaine Royer. But what's amazing is that, somehow, in Walla, this can still be called merlot. Because I don't mean it tastes like pinot or syrah or grenache. It's not that. It's more that this wine defies the conventions of its varietal the same way the other three great vintners I mentioned do. At

750 mLnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7574345.post-23567342760608603042009-02-15T20:50:00.007-06:002009-02-17T10:50:01.818-06:00

There are cooking wines better than this. It's unpalatably pungent, with the nutty oxidation and thin acidity that you'd most closely identify with fino sherry. Great there, gagging here. Clearly marketed as a superyoung-drink-right-now wine (though the lack of vintaging makes me question how committed Toro Loco actually is to making sure I don't grab a wine too old--can't I at least have a

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