He's the GM/sommelier at restaurant Marc Forgione in Tribeca.
Check out Matt's new website: www.underripe.com He's the GM/sommelier at restaurant Marc Forgione in Tribeca. Matt & I both have a "Cool People" section on our websites (great minds...?). Happily, I made the cut on his!
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A few days ago Tomas Estes (of Tequila Ocho), Dale DeGroff (King of Cocktails) and Mark Drew (Herradura) joined forces, stopped by work, and gave a masterclass on tequila to our staff. We tasted through two single field Tequila Ocho blancos (Tomas' take on terroir-driven tequila), then side-by-side a Tequila Ocho reposado and Herradura reposado, then side-by-side a Tequila Ocho anejo and Herradura anejo. As they discussed tequila production, I couldn't help but think of correlations in the wine world, and how interesting it would be if the approaches that guide the production of each product could be synthesized for the benefit of both tequila and wine. Tomas Estes has an interesting view of what tequila is and should be. Listening to him speak is more like hearing a yoga instructor talk about energy/form than it is sitting in a classroom. He is a meta thinker concerned with the big picture, yet he searches for the beauty in nuance. "Why tequila? It's all about the agave," he says. "These plants sit for 6-8 years under the Mexican sun absorbing the sun's energy. It's a very different base product from other spirits." The fructins in the agave plant are what make it special, and, to Tomas, make tequila (and agave nectar) a better and healthier product than market alternatives. The way he sees it, the energy highs and lows associated with sugar addiction are avoided in agave nectar and agave spirits, because the fructins release energy at a more even pace and are more readily assimilated by our bodies. "Because of the fructins, the distillation process of tequila is unique. It creates a unique product with different psychotropic effects than other spirits that come from sugar. Drinking really good artisinal tequila-- it creates a different high, it has its own flavor." Tomas brings what seems to me to be a winemaker's perspective to tequila. He is looking for vintage and field variation. He makes single-field tequilas to explore the terroir that is captured by the agave. And he uses minimum aging requirements in semi-neutral wood because he feels that if you leave the wine too long in oak, "the wood takes over, and you lose the flavor of the agave, which is what it is all about." He described once trying a heavily wooded tequila blind, and guessing that it was a rum because of the intensity of the oak influence. He is also experimenting with some interesting concepts. Agave harvest time is literally year round. Some harvesters will go into a field and cut the entire field despite variations in ripeness between different pineapples-- they believe this adds some complexity to the distillate base, and it also allows them to plant the field with crops that will replenish the soil in one swoop. Other harvesters will go into the field and only harvest the plants that they believe are ripe. The agave takes about 6-8 years to ripen, so if a harvester is selectively harvesting based on ripeness, it can take them 3 years to finish harvesting the field. The rainy seasons complicate things more. In the Highlands especially, the agaves are less concentrated during and after the rainy season, and they are the most concentrated just at the end of the drought period. Tomas is experimenting with single field tequilas that are harvested right at the end of the drought (before the rains) to see if it makes a more flavorful tequila. Tomas' son stepped in and described the technical elements of tequila production, from harvesting, roasting the pineapples, fermenting the aguadulce, then distilling the agave "wine" or "beer" into tequila. Mark Drew (pictured left, with Dale DeGroff on the right) makes the tequila at Herradura. He described Herradura's natural fermentation in open-top tanks in the middle of an orchard (a rich, yeasty environment). He believes that 65-70% of tequila flavor emerges in the fermentation, and this is why he goes for ambient yeasts. At Herradura they want a little bit of natural organic "funk" in the tequila. Hmmm, this sounds so familiar to the big yeast discussion happening in the wine world. How integral are ambient yeasts to terroir? Mark would argue that they are indispensable. Mark also spent some time discussing the agave crisis of 2000. Because the agaves were (and really, still are) such a focused strain of monoculture, a pestilence hit and destroyed about 4 out of every 5 agave plants. This happened at the same time when global demand increased for 100% agave products. So suddenly, demand was up but supply was way down. Part of the problem is that agave plants are halted from flowering and therefore prohibited from sexual reproduction. There is a consensus among growers that once the agave flowers, the quality of the pineapple decreases and it will not make as good of a product. To get more plants growers simply take rhizomes thrown by the agave and replant them (essentially, it's cloning-- or using identical genetic material to grow a new plant). As tequila producers saw the potential end of their business, the agave crisis of 2000 led to deeper studies about disease resistant strains of agave, and now, agave breeders are working to expand the genetic health of the plants by allowing sexual reproduction in some plants to reintroduce healthy genetic material to the strains that could help the agaves grow stronger through genetic diversity and be more disease resistant. A wine correlation to this discussion would be deeper studies of crossings. With so many of the world's most desired varietals being 300-1000+ year old clones, the wine world has been able to build upon the past to create incredibly focused and beautiful wines, but it has also limited natural selection and genetic diversity to a potentially dangerous end. Most of the wine industry is built upon fragile monoculture. If vineyard owners didn't have the option of inter-species grafting, would winemakers dealing with phylloxera back in the 1890s have experimented more with disease resistant crossings between varietals, much like agave growers are doing today? The idea of introducing new crossings into the wine market seems like sacrilege (especially to the closely monitored varieties in EU vineyards, restrictions of which ironically only apply to the scion), but if we look at what happened to the agave plants in 2000 and admit that a similar tragedy could happen to our vineyards, experimenting with new crossings seems-- to me, at least-- a necessary and prudent safety net. Sure, I love drinking amazing and transcendent wine from 1000 year old varieties full of fragile genetic material as much as the next guy, but I'd hate more to see the loss of the entire species or large portion thereof on which we base most of our wine production solely because we are too snobby about the sticky concepts of "purity" and "tradition" to do more experimentation with crossings. But enough on that, let's end on tequila. Dale DeGroff capped the class by making everyone a tequila cocktail-- he made something similar to a margarita, but with yuzu, shiso leaf, and a spritz of smokiness on top. It was awesome.
Manhattan has some of the world's greatest rooftops, and there is nothing better than to be high above it all drinking awesome wine with friends. Nothing like a little Batard-Montrachet in plastic cups. (no glass allowed up here!). Sorry Riedel. Domaine Dujac "Monts Luisants" 1er cru 2008 (Morey Saint-Denis) Here is some beautiful Morey St.-Denis, so young & tight, its whole life ahead of it. Can't wait to try this one again in a decade or so. Ramonet "Batard-Montrachet" Grand Cru 2004 (Chassagne-Montrachet) Gorgeous Batard - this one was just starting to come into its own. A double rainbow emerged over Manhattan- from this perspective only partially visible. Check out more photos of the phenomenon here & here. Here was a fun Chateaneuf du Pape from 1990. Vega-Sicilia "Unico" 1994 (Ribera del Duero, Spain) This old Vega was pretty incredible-- so meaty and tense. It was like drinking charcouterie. Penfolds "Grange" Bin 95 1989 (Australia) In the midst of all these big dogs the Grange came out on top. It had that classic Australia fruit, but it had simmered down since 1989 into some really plush and balanced juice. Grange is always so interesting for their winemaking philosophy which revolves around multi-regional blending. Most of the time the wine is predominantly Barossa, but the multi-terroir approach really adds layers of complexity that continue to interplay with one another even after all these years. The only other high-end producers that can do this and still keep their place at top of the market are some of the Champagne producers. I enjoy seeing the diversity of production philosophies in the high end red market. This 1989 came just before the extreme popularity of the 1990 vintage, and it really performed well. I'm working on a post solely about Grange, so stay tuned! About two weeks ago I went to an amazing presentation; Chef Lee Anne Wong presented several courses with different Suntory Japanese whisky to crack open some of the possibilities of whisky-food pairings. The event was co-sponsored by Suntory and the Gohan Society. We tasted through five whiskies: Yamazaki 12 Yamazaki 18 Hakushu 12 Hibiki 12 Hakushu 12 <-- Check out the menu to the left. Hakushu 12 The Hakushu 12 had pear, butter & scotch aromas. Lee Anne paired this with a toffee biscuit, apple slices, ham, and some creamy St. Andre cheese to pull it all together. Delish. I'll take a toffee biscuit every day for breakfast! Hibiki 12 Next we tried the Hibiki 12 with scallops, umeboshi, turnips, radishes and almonds. Hibiki translates to "harmony," and in this case refers to the many different parts of this intricate whisky blend that play together like a perfectly in-tune orchestra. And like a good orchestra the comprehensive blend displayed much complexity, in part due to the 35 different whiskies in the blend, the 3 different base grains, and the 5 different types of aging casks. One of the casks used to age a part of the Hibiki 12 were formerly plum wine casks. Lee Anne pulled this plum wine note out of the Hibiki's character and paired a dish that included umeboshi (sometimes called simply "ume"), a traditional Japanese "pickle" made from unripe plums packed in salt. *a bit more on the orchestra analogy: One of the whisky makers took the stage and spoke about how he is like a musician who plays his note. The blenders are like conductors who assemble all the separate notes into a great symphony. The analogy went deeper too; when Suntory was founded in 1923 the founder's vision was that the whisky would be akin to fine art, much like music and fine paintings. In keeping with this spirit, Suntory donates 1/3 of their profits to art and culture to ensure the sustainability of art. Their bottles and websites all sing the phrase "The Art of Japanese Whisky." This analogy can be spun another way: different orchestras can impress upon the same score their own interpretation of the music. This happens to whisky too-- once it is in barrel, the seasons (Japanese culture recognizes 24 distinct seasons), the weather, the humidity-- all these things make an impression on what is in the barrel and it will smell and taste slightly different than any other barrel. This vintage/barrel variation is partly what keeps the wine world interesting from year to year, and the same holds true with artisan spirits. Achieving a harmony between what you can produce and what nature doles out is also a a large part of "music" making-- be it sound or Hibiki 12. Along the same lines, the ancient Greeks had this concept that astronomy dictated music scales and forms-- that planets and stars vibrated in harmony with one another and that those same principles applied to vibrating strings or drum heads. Pretty interesting stuff, and when the Suntory distiller began talking about tasting the impression of the seasons in the barrels, and how the whisky is actually an extension of the moment and place in Japan, it reminded me of Ancient Greece and their "harmony of the spheres" music philosophy. Maybe this is the whisky talking, but after a few sips you start to think about these things! Yamazaki 12 Next up we tried the Yamazaki 12 with lamb, anchovy, dried fig vinaigrette, frissee, and tarragon. This whisky had complex aromatics that revolved around fruits: plums, fresh cut apricots, figs-- it was a very pretty nose. To me, this tasted a bit like orange peel and had some tart maltiness to it. There had been some sherry casks used to age this whisky, and Lee Anne poached the lamb in sherry vinegar to enhance this note. The dried fig vinaigrette went great with the fruit aromas and I loved the way the tarragon interacted with the tart orange peel flavor and the sour maltiness. This was a daring pairing, and it was neat to have such a rich gamey meat paired with such pretty whisky. To me, it reminded me of the American classic lamb-mint combination. Having the stone fruit & zesty whisky with the heavy meat seemed to cut the gameiness a bit, like the mint does in traditional American cooking. Yamazaki 18 This was the real crowd pleaser- we must have been an audience of sweet tooths! The Yamazaki 18 had butterscotch, compote, marmalade and apple aromas. It tasted tart & caramely with a hint of smokiness. Lee Anne made a crazy awesome bay leaf infused custard. The bay leaf component gave the dessert this very earthy element that made it great for whisky pairing. The dessert also came with fruit compote and candied kamquat. I really wish I had gotten two of these-- it was an awesome dessert and an amazing pairing. Hakushu "Sherry Cask" 12 Suntory surprised us with this special sip of mystery whisky at the end. We tasted it blind at first; it was hot, sweet & smokey, with an almost animalistic aroma. The neat thing about this one: it evaporated literally as soon as it hit the tongue-- such a wild sensation! Reminded me of this. This whisky came from their Hakushu distillery, opened 50 years after the original Suntory distillery. The lucky tasters gathered around this tiny kitchen where Lee Anne cooked and Suntory displayed photos from Japan. This was so cool: a hand carved ice sphere, cut to order! It's the handiwork of Suntory rep Gardner Dunn who whipped out a knife and carved a huge block of pure ice into the sphere you see on the left. He said his ice spheres are inspired by all of the amazing ice carving that is naturally a part of Japanese bartending. Check out my friend Aaron's post about PUBLIC, with some info about cool New Zealand dessert wines at the end! http://hogsheadwine.wordpress.com/2012/05/31/we-return-to-public/ Last week I taught a class on orange wine, and some really great interesting discussions ensued. My focus in this class was to present orange wines as products of extended skin contact. There are wines that are orange in color for other reasons, such as the Tondonia Rose-- this is a rose wine that has aged to an orange color-- but these wines to me are not orange; they are oxodized or aged roses. When a red wine turns garnet with age we don't change its category from "red wine" to "garnet wine" because the wine is still the same thing-- the garnet is simply an aged version of the red. The same things applies to white wines: when a white wine ages and becomes golden in hue, we don't change its category from "white wine" to "gold wine;" again, because one is simply an aged version of the other. I think the same should apply to roses. When a rose ages and turns orange in color, it is still a rose-- the orange hued rose is simply an aged version of the rose. So, despite the fact that many other somms will categorize oxodized roses as orange, I don't; and for the purpose of this class I presented orange wines as white wines with extended skin contact. The extended skin contact-- to me-- is crucial in the definition of orange wine and the possibilities for flavor profiles within orange wines. By categorizing orange wines in this way (i.e. leaving out the aged roses and focusing only on extended skin contact), four distinct wine categories emerge: White - wine made from white grapes that have had little skin contact Orange- wine made from white grapes with extended skin contact Rose- wine made from red grapes that have had little skin contact Red- wine made from red grapes that have had extended skin contact Of course there are tons of exceptions (white wine made from red grapes, white-red blends of roses, viognier in cote rotie, etc.) but as an overarching concept of how orange wine fits into the grander scheme of things, I think the above simplified chart makes the common production methods easily digestible. By presenting wine production methods and colors in this way, what emerged in the classroom was a pretty big question: If orange wines are an entire category of wine with just as much production potential as rose, red or white wine, why aren't there more of them? Why are so few being produced? This is a question I ask myself every day, and I'm pretty baffled by the fact that practically nobody is making these amazing wines. This is an entire untapped category of wine production. Seriously- imagine a world without rose? Imagine if people never experimented with little skin-contact in red wines and never created rose? Imagine the gaping hole that would be left in your lifelong sensory wine experience without rose. The lack of orange wines on the market is an equally tragic gaping hole in our wine drinking experience. We are really losing out here. Other big questions on the table were: With such a global demand for high quality rich and powerful red wines, wouldn't this palate also be more inclined to like a tannin-driven, rich orange wine as opposed to white wine? Is terroir transmitted or partially transmitted through skin contact, and if so, why have more white wine producers not experimented with extended skin contact as a way to enhance the emergence of terroir in their wines? With the new idea that what we perceive as minerality in wine is actually sulfides and not, in fact, trace minerals from the soil as we had all assumed/hoped, then wouldn't extended skin contact in white wines be a way to actually get real trace elements from the soil into the wine? In the tasting portion of the class we went through: Shinn Estate "Skin Fermented Chardonnay" 2009 (North Fork of Long Island, NY) I chose this wine to taste first-- I wanted to lead the drinkers into orange wine with that familiar chardonnay taste, but presented in a slightly orange way. Baby steps! Tissot "Amphore" 2009 (Jura, France) I chose this wine to taste second- it's completely different from the Shinn and immediately showcased the diversity possible with orange wines. Paolo Bea "Chiara" 2009 (Umbria, Italy) I chose this wine to show third- the color is extremely orange and it's such a classic wine with a great taste. Coenobium "Rusticum" 2009 (Lazio, Italy) I chose this wine to show the diaspora of orange wines within Italy, and to show how Paolo Bea's influence spread to Lazio. It ended on a very positive note- lots of people who had never tried it before were really interested in finding out where they could get more. The New Zealand Wine Fair at City Winery last week in Manhattan was an eye opening tasting. It all began with a great presentation by Paul Grieco; his topic was... can you guess? Riesling! We went through 5 different regions and tasted two rieslings from each-- as you can imagine, the diversity was as brilliant as the wines themselves. The seminar was pretty early (if you work in a restaurant "early" is before noon), so most of the attendees were press and trade. The sommeliers were all asleep, and I must amidst the only thing that got me out of bed that early was the promise of a huge riesling flight from all over New Zealand. Nothing beats morning coffee like morning acid! Paul made some great points- he spoke about his recent trip, partying at Pegasus Bay, but also went into some of the sticky areas of riesling: the perception of sulphides as minerality, using potassium from extra skin contact to offset acidity, the perception of "sweet", RS and acid levels, and the new IRF Riesling Scale. Here was the tasting lineup, each one so unique; I italicized my favorites: Dry River 2008 (Martinborough)- lemon meringue, white flowers, crazy acid Te Kairanga 2010 (Martinborough)- funky, petrol, wild Neudorf 2010 (Nelson)- white florals, earth, pears Redoubt Hill 2010 (Nelson)- ripe peach, strawberry, rosemary Villa Maria 2010 (Marlborough)- apple, quince, peach Forrest The Doctors 2011 (Marlborough)- grapes, lime, sage Mount Beautiful 2009 (Waipara)- lime skin, roasted coconut, earth Pegasus Bay "Bel Canto" 2009 (Waipara)- pears, peaches, petrol Rippon 2009 (Central Otago)- membrillo, apples, pears Mount Difficulty "Target Gully" 2011 (Central Otago)- peach candies, lemondrops, white flowers Fromm Spatlese 2010 (Marlborough)- ripe starfruit, pears, grapes Seifried "Sweet Agnes" 2010 (Nelson)- smelled like strawberry Special K! The rieslings were great-- but they weren't the only aromatic varietal that stood out. Time and time again I was blown away by the pinot gris (across the board- from all different producers). Do yourself a favor and pick up some of these next time you are in a wine store. They shouldn't be too difficult to find because pinot gris plantings have dramatically increased in NZ from less than 200 hectares in 2000 to almost 1800 hectares in 2010. Exports have followed this trend. Currently pinot gris accounts for 65% of aromatic white exports from NZ (riesling is at 26%). See the photo below for one of the most interesting tables at the tasting. Mt. Beautiful (North Canterbury) had a tablecloth on their tasting table with a detailed map of their vineyard topography and what varietals were planted there. Notably, you see the sauvignon blanc in green, some riesling in blue, pinot noir in pink, and a single vineyard of pinot gris in grey: A few other wines that really stood out:
Lawson's Dry Hills 2010 gewurztraminer Giesen 2011 riesling Mud House 2010 pinot noir Carrick 2010 pinot gris Peregrine 2010 riesling Elephant Hill 2010 chardonnay Gasoline Alley Coffee recently opened up (Nov 2011) in a unique space on a thin strip of street divider just outside the Bleeker Street 6 train station. 331 Lafayette St. NY, NY Named for NoHo's former nickname (you guessed it, "Gasoline Alley"), the tiny shop has breezy doors and windows on both sides, kept wide open in beautiful weather. The space has an amazing, open feel to it-- no clutter at all, which leads they eye to the one prominent feature: a bicycle hanging on the wall right above the espresso machine. A few stools allow you to linger over your espresso for a few minutes, once in a while a laughing group will take over the corner or a loner will write poetry over a cappuccino. The baristas are the real deal- nice, charming people, just the right amount of hipster, and they make great coffee. The drink in the picture is their cortado-- a really small cappuccino. I just ate at one of my favorite hangs, and dinner was amazing, as usual. Tertulia is an industry favorite known for classic Spanish tapas that are well worth the hour long waits for tables. A tiny bar greets you as you enter with two small dining areas tucked behind. In the very back of the restaurant a partially exposed kitchen showcases the busy cooks. Wines by the glass are chalked out on a slate tablet, the specials appear on an unassuming chalkboard, and the wine list is small-medium sized and very focused on great Spanish wines (a nice mix of affordable & high end). What really entices me about this place is the complete lack of pretentiousness in the atmosphere/cuisine. The environment is as intimate and personal as the food. In the crazy-amazing NYC dining scene the tendency for restaurants to gear their food program around harderbetterfasterstronger. Not so here. The approachable and classic Spanish tapas function as a delicious canvas that still allows you to put the focus on the people you are dining with. We saw this magnum of Anima Negra "AN/2" on the wine list and went for it. Anima Negra bodega is located on Mallorca-- an island in the Balearic archipelago (the other famous islands in the chain are Menorca and Ibiza). Mallorca is world famous for its incredible beaches; travel inland, however, and you will find another claim to fame: several unique wineries producing great wines from varietals indigenous to the island. Because Mallorca is such a popular tourist destination land costs are astronomical making it difficult to get wineries going in the interior, but several enterprising people have managed to do it. The tourist industry also drives an incredibly high percentage of local consumption, so it is rare to see these wines hit the global market. Anima Negra is based out of an old stone dairy barn that dates back to the 1600s. The bodega makes four wines; the AN/2 we drank tonight blends 65% callet with two other indigenous varieties, mantonegro and fogoneu. They also add a bit of syrah to the mix. The grapes are bush trained, then fermented in stainless steel followed by about a year in French & American oak (35% new). Mallorca has been producing wines for centuries; they became an important wine exporter in the late 1800s when France struggled with phylloxera. Fast forward to the wine landscape of the 1990s and we see a trend for many Spanish wines to appeal to a global market by growing "international varieties" and using heavy new oak. The three young founders of Anima Negra became disenchanted with the concept of homogenizing Spanish wine for a global market and instead focused on indigenous varieties achieving unique quality in their own ways. They also prefer old vines, no irrigation and the use of only native yeasts. The smooth yet spicy wine went great with these classics: delicious and crunchy pan con tomate, a potato tortilla, and a deviled egg with savory cod blended into the yolk. The potato tortilla was so fluffy- we devoured it in literally five seconds. Pimientos de Pardon-- they went so fast we only got a picture of the stems! The Spanish cheese plate was perfect with the wine. Before we dove into dessert we took a white wine break-- we noticed that they had Anima Negra's "Quibia" by the glass and so we decided to keep the drinking in the same winery. The Quibia (made of the varietal premsal) was a nice little palate cleanser before this caramelized toast arrived with hazelnut ice cream. The caramelized top of the rich, sweet toast smelled like fresh roasted marshmallows. This is the unsung hero of the day-- so addictive that even after stuffing ourselves all night we ordered more. Tangerine sorbet topped with thin discs of candied kumquat, served over fresh segmented grapefruit with cheese and mint. Outside the moon illuminated Washington Square park-- the same moon that had just shone over Mallorca only a few hours before. |
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ErinI’m Erin, and this is my wine blog. Here, you'll find information about wines from around the world, and Virginia. Top PostsArchives
March 2024
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