Trio Reserva

Viña Concha y Toro
Trio
Reserva
Cabernet Sauvignon, Shiraz, Cabernet Franc
Maipo Valley, Chile
2007
14.1%
$13.98 -- Whole Foods, Austin, TX

Color: Medium to deep ruby
Nose: Creamy cherry, pepper, herbs
Body: Medium
Front: Black cherry
Middle: Dusty tannins, strawberry, herbes de provence
Back: Roasted jalapeño, cedar
Burns clean?: Not really
Cap: Fake cork

As my several fans know, I'm not much of a Chilean wine drinker. But every now and then, I give one a shot. It's claimed by many that excellent wines at low prices are coming out of Chile. This is a reserved wine, not too bombastic either on the nose or the palate, but interesting nonetheless. I'm not eating yet, but I suspect it'll hold up--given the tannins--to a wide range of foods. And it's inexpensive, but balanced, so try it out!

Casa Lapostolle Cuvée Alexandre Cabernet

Casa Lapostolle
Cuvée Alexandre
Cabernet Sauvignon
Apalta Vineyard
Colchagua Valley
Santa Cruz, Chile
2006
14.5%
$21.99 -- Grape Vine Market, Austin, TX

Color: Deep garnet
Nose: Mushrooms, thyme, blackberry jam
Body: Full
Front: Black cherry
Middle: Plum, firm tannins
Back: Licorice, herbes de provence
Burns clean?: Yes

Cap: Cork

So far, this is my favorite Chilean wine. The second Cuvée Alexandre I ever had was described in my last post. It was the Merlot, and I liked it, though I think it did not move mountains and part seas for me. It was luscious but well-balanced, and went well with food. In fact, at times it kind of tasted like one of my favorite foods, bacon.

So what of the Cabernet? This wine is from the same year, same maker, same vineyard, costs the same, and has the same alcohol content as the Merlot. This is a true varietal test right here.

If you blindfolded me, I probably wouldn't have guessed that the Merlot was a Merlot--perhaps Malbec. And if you gave me this, I might say it was a Cab, but if you told me it was a Merlot I wouldn't be shocked. They're quite similar in terms of structure and the taste profile: a little fruit up front, some herby earthiness, then a little anise and interesting tannins towards the end. Indeed, the tannins are the biggest difference for me--these are classic Cabernet tannins, while the Merlot had odd, engaging, but chunky ones (and it wasn't in good shape on day two).

With a prime (actually 'choice,' but nicely roasted) rib the herbiness of the wine really came out, a lovely effect.

Casa Lapostolle Cuvée Alexandre Merlot

Casa Lapostolle
Cuvée Alexandre
Merlot, Carmenère
Apalta Vineyard
Colchagua Valley
Santa Cruz, Chile
2006
14.5%
$21.99 -- Grape Vine Market, Austin, TX

Color: Deep garnet
Nose: Coffee, blueberry, sage
Body: Medium to full
Front: Dried cherries
Middle: Spicy raspberry bacon, sautéed button mushrooms
Back: Acorns, tingly tannins, licorice
Burns clean?: Mostly

Cap: Cork

The first Cuvee Alexandre I had was in the Palmer House hotel in Chicago. It was the Cabernet, and I really enjoyed it. It was luscious but well-balanced, a nice complement to the luscious (though admittedly a little baroque) main lobby of that hotel (pictured here).

The Merlot has the same general profile: big, fruity and spicy, but with a strong earthy component that balances out the oak and the fruit. It has grip and would go well with many different kinds of food. It's only been open a half hour, so I can't be sure this effect is consistent, but the tannins are fascinating--like pop rocks, a little bit, fine but crumbly, lending a nice brightness to the texture.

And bacon will almost always win me over.

The Great Maderized Wine Tasting

Hello, ancient beauties.

DOWN IN MY PARENTS' BASEMENT IN WESTERN KENTUCKY are a few wine racks.  The temperature is perfect for wine storage.  For some time, there have been all sorts of interesting things down there, including a lot of white wine bottles so covered with dust that it's hard to see what they are--or were.  The oldest of them date from the Reagan Era (that's President Ronald Reagan, kids), the youngest from the middle 1990s; they span the globe in origins.

A couple of years ago my father suggested that we haul a sample of them up and taste them someday; this week, a cold winter day in Kentucky called out for a couple of good friends, a light seafood lunch, and a case of aged wine.  Today's blog entry may not have much practical use for my readers, but both of them may find it amusing.

Like white people, some white wines age well, and others don't.  But to complicate this, many white wines that are made to age are also deliberately made to taste quite unusual after a decade or so.  An open mind makes wine taste better, no matter the tendencies of the palate.  Going into the tasting, we knew that there were several possibilities: all the wines might taste the same (and awful); a few of them might have survived and be quite good; and we might be surprised by which ones were which.

Still, we did take some precautions. Many of these wines were not built to age, by any means, and none of them originally retailed for more than about $15. So we decided to order them by "guessed likelihood of not sucking" rather than from lightness to heaviness of body as is customary.  What follows are my notes on what happened, accompanied by a couple of photos to show both some of the colors of the wine and the unusual cork phenotypes that we found, ranging from white mold-covered to dirt-covered.  I was exhausted just trying to get the bottles clean enough to put on a table.

All spruced up...mostly. White mold, left; brown "dirt," right.

Monteagle Wine Cellars, Tennessee Seyval Blanc, 1990, 12.5%, Monteagle, Tennessee, USA: A mellow, deep, golden brown color, this one had a nose of burned hazelnut, apricot, and varnish.  The palate delivered old lemon peel, leather polish, and toasted acorns.  It was praised by one of the five members of the crowd, and detested by most of the others.  But in retrospect, most drinkers considered it to be in the top three of the tasting.  In this respect, a complete shock.  Also the first Tennessee wine I've ever had, and only the second Seyval.

Slaughter Leftwich Vineyards, Sauvignon Blanc, 1990, 12.5%, Austin, Texas, USA: First Texas wine I've ever tasted, too.  What a day!  A deep, clear straw color, and a nose that brought poetry from one of the assembled company: "Smells like the hill country...in a dust storm."  Do they make mango varnish?  That's what it smelled like to me; the front palate was a blast of apricot gasoline, then an eerie emptiness in the middle, and a finish of butter and oak.  If you came in on the last 5 seconds of the taste, and then left again immediately, you'd swear it was a California Chardonnay.

Sebastiani Vineyards, Eye of the Swan, Pinot Noir Blanc, 1984, 13.2%, Sonoma, California, USA: This was a piece of my parents' past, and brought smiles of recollection all around.  Yet no stories were forthcoming.  A cloudy golden brown color, this Pinor Noir blanc (meaning it spent just a little time on the skins before being bottled) was the crowd favorite for the day.  With more tannins, and also in a magnum format, it had a better chance in the basement.  Still, 25 years is a long time for what was a bottom-shelf wine at the time!  My pronouncement that it had a nose of wet dog ass mixed with Pine SolTM was mocked, but I stand by it.  Flavors of peach and oak were rapidly followed by something like kirsch-flavored paint thinner.

Cantina di Montefiascone, Est! Est!! Est!!!, Trebbiano, Malvasia, 1984, 11.5%, Montefiascone, Italy: The color of bourbon, mixed with cloudy river water.  The nose?  Sherry, all the way.  If you were a pirate, you could say from experience that this wine tastes like a bad oyster served in a moldy rag.

Federico Paternina, Blanco Seco, Viura (probably), 1988, 11%, Ollauri, Spain: Though white wines have to have a splendid balance of acidity and other things to age well, this one testifies that color doesn't work by the same principles; it had a beautiful, rich golden hue.  The nose, however, smelled like nothing more than spoiled milk (really, it's extraordinary to think such an odor could have been produced by fruit, but some kinds of education are not edifying).  The palate was of pears preserved in acetone. "Here's to temperance," my father pronounced, upon tasting it.

Rutherford Hill Winery, Napa Valley Chardonnay, 1989, 13%, Rutherford, California, USA: I love Rutherford Hill wines, as I've testified elsewhere on this blog.  This one was the best of the bunch, to my taste, but universally hated by my companions.  Its color was a dark greenish-gold, and it had oak and butter, with an aftertaste of snow tire chains--a little radial, a little metal, a little soggy ash.  I drank half a glass.

Viña San Pedro, Gato Blanco, Sauvignon Blanc, 1991, 12%, Lontue, Chile: A hideous brownish-yellow, the nose of the Gato Blanco sported oak, nail polish remover, and roses.  Yes, roses, which didn't bode well.  The palate delivered tart, tart strawberry mineral spirits, with a bit of a novacaine effect.  Admittedly, the latter might have been a cumulative effect, by this point.

Hugh Ryman Wines, Richemont, Chardonnay Reserve, 1996, 12%, Pays D'Oc, France: A sickly bourbony color, the Richemont featured lemon peel, oyster shell, and oak on the palate, in rapid succession, until collapsing into a varnishy haze.  This one was universally despised, though we did have some hopes for it at first because of its youth (and because there are 5 more bottles of it in the basement).  The fascinatingly hideous Richemont cork is pictured here.

Louis Gisselbrecht, Gewurztraminer, Cuvee Reserve, 1988, 12.5%, Dambach-la-Ville, Alsace, France: Another lesson: whatever complex chemical stuff has to happen to keep a white wine going in the cellar in the absence of nice balancing tannins does not apply to the nose, necessarily, either.  This one had a light gold color, perhaps a little dark for a Gewurz but well within reason, and a delightful grapefruity nose.  But sadly, to quote one drinker, "It smells like Gewurz but it tastes like shit!"  Ok, it didn't actually taste like poo, but a strong front of grapefruit rapidly yielded to Testor's model glue and pine needles. One drinker pointed out that glue is not universally despised, but I think glue huffers will be disappointed that the nose on this isn't more in line with its flavor.

Bodegas Olarra, Cerro Añon, Viura, 1984, 11.5%, Logroño, Rioja, Spain: We had high hopes for this one, too, but despite an interesting medium orange gold color and a roasted pear nose, the nail polish, oak, burned hazelnut, radish, and cedar that it delivered ("Agent Orange blossoms," was my phrase at the time) got it dumped out quickly by our assembly.

What have we learned, one dump bucket-full of wine and ten empty bottles and broken corks later?  First, that the variety of bad-tasting things is nearly boundless.  Second, that wine's individuality is hard even for long-term, unbalanced chemical processes to suppress.  Third, that when you do a maderized wine tasting, you should have on hand at least two bottles of really good stuff, and something pickled, to clear palates!

Root: 1 Cabernet

Viña Ventisquero
Root: 1
Cabernet Sauvignon
Colchagua Valley
Rancagua, Chile2007
14%
$8.99 -- Grape Vine Market, Austin, TX

Color: Deep ruby
Nose: Cassis, tar, cardboard
Body: Medium
Front: Cherry
Middle: Bittersweet chocolate
Back: Herbs, raisin
Burns clean?: Yes
Cap: Cork

There are two selling points for this wine, which has gotten some oenophile press. First, it's cheap and strong! Second, it's from ungrafted original cabernet vines, which are rare in the world thanks to the phylloxera epidemic back in the day. Presumably the appeal here would be that you are drinking the wine the ancients drank: that there is something about ungrafted vines that is unique.

That may be. Certainly the overly decorated bottle, with its long historical narrative on the front, would lead one to believe it, referring to the vines it's made from as "pure." I love history as much as...no, probably slightly more than the next girl. But a caveat: really, Nietzsche would warn us about the invariably impure genealogy of vines. That is to say, hybridity is hard to avoid. And what's more, whether pre- or post-phylloxera, vines channel terroir. So it's still a lot about care, feeding, and character. And not over-manipulating the grapes before they get to the emptyer.

Having said that, I think Root: 1 is reasonably tasty, and probably the best 8-9 dollar Cabernet that I've had this year. It seems to have about a two-stage delivery, fruit and a little chocolatey thing, but it's interesting and good with the aged Irish cheese I broke out before dinner tonight. It is not very tannic, compared to its acidity, so I fear it won't age--but I bet in about six months to a year from now, it'll be way better. That notwithstanding, if I were having a reception tomorrow, I'd order a case of this and a case of the Veramonte Chardonnay to serve.

Veramonte Chardonnay Reserva

Veramonte
Chardonnay
Reserva
Casablanca Valley
Chile2006
13.5%
$10.79 -- Grape Vine Market, Austin, TX

Color: Pale gold
Nose: Apricot, banana
Body: Full
Front: Peach, banana
Middle: Sour apple, a little tangerine?
Back: Beach ball, cream
Burns clean?: Yes
Cap: Screwcap

This evening I'm getting over a cold and trying to focus on writing an important article that has nothing to do with wine. In the spirit of productive procrastination (and because with a cheap white wine I can have one glass, recap the bottle, and reinfuse caffeine to keep writing), I turn to Veramonte. It's the first Chilean wine I've reviewed, I note, but it will not be the last.

One of the reasons I picked this one up was that it's imported by Huneeus Vineyards, which makes one of my favorite wines, Faust. Indeed, Augustin Huneeus is listed on the bottle as the vintner, so my hope was that the connection is deep.

I like this wine; it's full and creamy but not super-oaked, well-balanced and structured. It pairs well also with Lays Potato Chips, which bring out the wood in the wine nicely. Once again, The Ditty Bops are playing, singing, "And we like it / Because we do..."