Les Blog

It was meant to be a solemn symposium and sober analysis of the 2007 vintage on the eve of a new year. But something went horribly wrong.

Yes, there was a lot of great food. Yes, there were reveling guests aplenty. Yes, by midnight we’d worked through barrel samples and bottles of most of the Garagistes’ product over the last 6 years, to say nothing of nearly a case of sparkling wine and a lovely palette-coating of hop liqueur.

But how quickly we lost our focus. How quickly I lost my focus (I think it must have rolled back behind one of the barrels). Surely we are better than this. Surely we can rise above our youthful definition of wine as delightful beverage and key ingredient of a full life, and reformulate wine as something nobler, as a chemical process leading inexorably to a quantifiable score? Surely that’s the true stuffing of wine, gentlemen, surely.

So here’s hoping we can regroup from this tragedy in the new year and get back to picking apart wine until even the vultures send out for pizza. In that spirit, my incredibly scientific notes after tasting through the barrels:

2007 Cabernet Sauvignon
Like the two other wines, this baby is barely out of the crib, and considering it was pressed into this vale of tears less than 3 months ago, its immaturity isn’t too surprising — it charmingly cried out “uppy, uppy” (which of course, as parents, we had no choice but to indulge), but the rest of its discourse didn’t get much more complex than “grapey, grapey.” Nevertheless, the wine is beautifully healthy and sound, feels great in the mouth, and is nicely balanced even on so wobbly a set of new legs. I can’t wait to try this after even one racking.

2007 Merlot
Also youthful, but sweeter and simpler, like a kitten on a cookie. Again, nice feel in the mouth, but this one will really benefit from the breath of fresh air a few rackings will provide. For now, the most uneventful of the three.

2007 Cabernet Franc
I think most people liked this the best of the three, and that’s not too surprising, since the Franc is at its best on the fresher end of the aging curve. Lovely spice, great depth and balance, nestled in a pillow of pure fruit flavor.

2007 Piquette (aka Pinto)
Our “second wine” from the Cabernet Sauvignon pressings has been in the Oregon Oak barrel for 2 months, and it was the talk of the tasting. Light, but not insubstantial fruit slides effortlessly over the palette into the welcoming arms of an eager gullet. There’s still a little spritz to it, possibly due to ongoing malolactic, but the slight sweetness could also suggest one last hurrah for primary fermentation. I predict it will supplant water as the Garagistes’ liquid of choice this coming summer.

What did you like?

I took the 2005 Peugeot to a party last night, expecting it to represent the Garagistes with rectitude, if not pulchritude. Man, was I surprised.

I remember loving this blend when we put it together in the summer of 2006. 50% Cabernet Sauvignon, 30% Merlot and 20% Franc. The Sauvignon we got that year had been mismanaged by a new grower we were trying (and did not return to), who left it hanging until it clocked in at nearly 28 brix before he called us to come get it. Since rocket fuel was not our objective, we added water to ratchet back the brix by a point or so and bring the alcohol down to a less incendiary level.

Even though the water was added before fermentation, it really hadn’t integrated even 10 months later at our blending trials. My notes remark on how something so alcoholic could also be so watery in the mid-palate. Luckily, our two other grapes filled the mid with texture (Merlot) and flavor (Franc), so the resulting Peugeot was nicely complex and lingered pleasingly.

But even though I remembered the blend fondly, the odd bottle or two I’ve uncorked in the last 16 months have been uneventful, even dumb. Toward the end of each bottle, after prolonged oxygen exposure, the wine usually began to shake off its grogginess and hint at its former glory, but frankly, I’d begun to wonder if that glory had ever existed at all.

At last, patient Garagistes, I can confirm: the glory is ours! The wine I opened last night was simply stunning. Beautiful, silky tannins, lovely round fruit caressed with chocolate and deep spice, and a finish that kept tapping my shoulder even with a party raging around me. And no trace of a watery mid-palate: so while the Merlot and Franc (contributing that chocolate and spice, I believe) clearly did their jobs, I think the water we added to the Sauv has finally integrated and that grape is pulling its own weight. Mmmm.

That jibe with your recent experiences?

My wife and I stopped by a friend’s house after Thanksgiving, where as luck would have it her father had recently opened a crusty old bottle of port.

Now, I’ve always liked port, but never really embraced it. Sure, it efficiently delivers both dessert and alcohol in one convenient glass, but it’s often more like a sweet, sloppy puppy than a poised, mature animal.

This was an entirely different species. To begin with, it was from Taylor Fladgate, one of the giants of Oporto. But better, the last time it had seen the great outdoors was 59 years ago. Yes, The Bicycle Thief had just illuminated post-war Italy, the Marshall Plan had just passed Congress, and Harry Truman was only a few weeks away from gaining the White House. That 1948.

The bottle had the telltale (and traditional) swab of white paint across its base, just below where the label would have been had it not rotted off decades ago. It’s a simple marker for those lucky enough to carry a bottle home that one side of the bottle is up, so the sediment (or “crust”) settles in one place for easy evasion when you (or your grandchildren) get around to pouring it.

Michael Broadbent, the charming lion of British wine critics, had this to say about the 1948 in The Great Vintage Wine Book:

Tasted 19 times [ Ed: ! ] since 1958, invariably magnificent. Still fairly deep and intense; beautiful bouquet, lively fruit, scented, citrus, vanilla; sweet, full-bodied, powerful yet perfect flavour and balance with glorious blackberry-like ripeness. Most recently lovely, shapely, ethereal.

Broadbent wrote this in 1991, but 16 years later, it crossed my palette as if we’d shared the same glass. What’s truly remarkable is that even at the close of its sixth decade, it’s still wonderfully alive and full. Deep, resonant layers of flavor, like floating down through successive panes of tinted glass, each a slightly different tint, opacity, and delight.

“Most recently lovely, shapely, ethereal.” I say, old chum: spot on.

Last weekend, we got together for what we thought would be a relatively quick blending and bottling session. Our mission: blend the 2006 Peugeot and squirrel it away until March; blend the 2006 Deux-Chevaux and bottle it; and then bottle the remaining Merlot.

Unfortunately, we discovered too late that we aren’t quite set up to blend that much wine at one sitting: we need a much larger blending vessel. So we had to divide the Peugeot blend in half which slowed us to an escargot’s pace. In fact, I don’t think we got to bottling until 10:30 or so. That’s just too long, despite the good spirits and ample, lubricating vino.

So here’s a general call for a used, stainless steel blending and fermenting vessel, open-topped if possible, somewhere in the 750 liter (~200 gallon) range. In the Willamette Valley area and got one you want to unload? Send us an email, a few photos, and what you want for it.

Despite the long night, however, I think we were all amazed at the quality of the Peugeot going into the bottle: deep, ruby color; lovely nose; nice richness and fresh fruit in the mouth but well-integrated tannins and backbone. Can’t wait to enjoy it.

And happy anniversary to Brian and Liz, who spent a bit of their magic evening with us studiously sampling the blend for any flaws (there were none, natch). Yes, when it comes to romantic ambiance, our basement lair is unequalled.

More photos below the waterline…

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We have a blend for the Peugeot: 40% Cabernet Sauvignon, 30% Merlot, and 30% Cabernet Franc. And we’re going to make as much of it as we can.

We tasted this winning blend from the trials last weekend against a Cab Sauv-dominated blend of 70% CS, 15% M, and 15% CF, but we unanimously agreed that the Cab-centric blend lacked the depth, nose, complexity and pleasure of the 40/30/30 blend. That blend, by contrast, had a fantastic, berry-bramble nose (largely courtesy of the Franc), great sustain of flavor throughout the taste, and a wonderful, fresh and long finish. Good weight, but still young: a few more months in barrel - and maybe one more racking - will probably give this baby the weight it needs to take it to the stratosphere.

So we’ll put all the Cab Sauv into this blend, squirreling away 2 barrels’ worth until the spring, bottling the remainder as an early release with the balance of the Franc and Merlot. For those, James had the excellent idea of blending a little bit of the Merlot into the Franc, and after a few trials, we settled a on 7% Merlot addition - added weight and smoothness while keeping the spotlight firmly on the Franc.

The blends firmly in hand, we racked the Cab Sauv and the Merlot, but left the Franc alone - it tasted pretty drinkable as is, so we opted to keep it fresh.

[ Mike live-blogging our blending trials, Saturday. - Ziraud ]

Cab Sav Solo: Unimpressive, oakey beast

Merlot Solo: Varietally correct with a flavor slump in the middle

Cab Franc Solo: Intriguing acids and nose, impressive possibilities

[ all blend recipes Cab Sauv / Merlot / Cab Franc - Z ]

50/30/20: aboriginal, not meaty enough, war, oaky, ripe? but somehow… lifeless.

40/30/30: the mix to beat, oak subdued and the structure enhanced

30/40/30: nose like previous but too hot, candy-like, flabby

40/35/25: boring, candy dandy, not much nose, life savers

45/30/25: pretty good, big upfront, no middle, surprisingly long tail, no nose, many (but certainly not all) liked this one

40/25/35: meh

42/30/28: more sack, no more drop-off in the middle, sweet pillowy nose, nice finish, bacon

[ 2 favorites blended and then served back to tasters blind -Z ]

A: Nice but no cigar

B: Stronger acids, tannins, flavor depths

Ta-da! A = 42/30/28, B = 40/30/30, so 40/30/30 is da winner and still champion!

and it’s got lots of sac(k)!

[Pics below the fold -Z]
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What does Oregon taste like? After last night, I’d have to say “a 1999 Cristom Reserve.”

Simply incredible: Handsome brickiness to the rim, like a little gray at the temples. Lovely deep ripe cherry scent, wearing a thin but elegant veil of oak. Still lively and optimistic, but with a tinge of worldliness hard-won in the cellar. Silky. Dark cherry, raspberry, and ripe plum flavors that have the depth of a well — you drop in a penny and it seems to fall forever. And when it sounds bottom, that gently reverberating echo you hear is the oak and acid, somehow defining the structure with no physical presence at all. Most bewitching of all, the hard, cinnamon taste of (I’m guessing) ripe pinot stems, evoking the character of the plant, the site, the hillside in late harvest, sun-baked, orange and russet.

It’s the taste of a decade past, that 1999 harvest that came out of nowhere and seemed to last forever. Complete and beautiful, an archetype of Oregon pinot: a little wild and brambly, but pure, authentic fruit. Transcendent. Like and old friend; like Oregon.

James and I did an article on Steve Doerner, Cristom’s soft-spoken but incredibly talented winemaker, nearly a decade ago. One of his predilections is adding whole clusters to the fermenter, something you don’t do casually because unripe stems can highjack a wine and send it into the vegetable patch. But late in the season, if grapes are still hanging, the stems dessicate to a rich, warm brown and their flavor turns toward cinnamon.

I can’t say for sure, but it sure tastes like whole clusters must have played a role in this wine, and that’s in part what makes it so complex and evocative. The harvest in 1999 was long enough that Steve would indeed have had ripe stems at his disposal, and the resulting wine has those distinctive spice notes.

In short, stunning. 106 points, you Calipalate critic bastards. Read more