Les Blog

Looking west from the lower, still-to-be-planted part of Westrey’s Oracle Vineyard

A few nights ago we got together to rack our three wines, and of course, couldn’t help tasting them as they poured from barrel to tank and back into barrel.

2007 Cabernet Franc
I think the consensus was that contrary to any of our previous experiences with this wine at this stage, the Franc showed the worst of the three. It had a decent fragrance, but it was murky and lifeless in the mouth, oddly framed with a hint of oak (it’s in an essentially neutral barrel). And once past the tonsils, it was like it was never there. Overall, a far cry from the fresh, precocious party-in-your-mouth the Franc usually is — and the way it was in March, when last we racked it.

So, what’s going on? Theories abound — more in a future post — but it’s certainly true that most wines go through “dumb” or hibernative stages, where between one chemical state and another they’re kind of in limbo. I think of it like a construction project: you begin with one thing (nice bones, but what Nazi scientist designed that wallpaper!?), but before the shiny new thing emerges (did you notice it matches my iTouch?), you float like Dante through the undoing of one and the creation of the other, where your thing isn’t what it was, but it isn’t what it’ll become. It’s something, yet it’s also not quite anything, either. And you have to use a port-a-potty in the back yard for a month.

Anyway, that’s not unusual for wine as it evolves (for example, see my notes on the Sauvignon, below), but it’s not how the Franc has ever performed in the past. More soon.

Cabernet Sauvignon
Next up was the Cab. It was also a little shuttered, but more in a way you’d expect at this stage in its life. All the stuffing was there, and indeed, it had a lot of complexity and good feel in the mouth, though not much of a finish that night. All in all, however, showed pretty good life for so young a wine, and all present murmured approval into their cups.

Merlot
If you’ve got a weak heart, please skip the second half of this sentence: the merlot was the best wine of the evening. I’ll give you a minute to get your bearings. Sometimes a glass of wine helps.

While it lacked a little backbone (though in point of fact, it showed the backbone of a good Merlot), it betrayed surprising life, in addition to a bass marimba-like depth and velvetyness in the mouth. Almost complex, and a pretty good ride through the finish.

If this is in fact representative of where the Merlot will end up (no guarantees there, of course), I’d say this is due to a combination of three things: 1) wild yeast (so many gene pools, so many flavors); 2) crop load (we asked the grower to dramatically reduce yield in 2007: and 3) pulling a seignée out of it (in a nutshell, a seignée drains juice from a fermenter, increasing the proportion of flavor-packed skins to tasty juice). I’d give more of a nod to 2 and 3 than 1, but probably all played a role.

Next up is blending, so we’ll see if this was an aberration or a strategy worth repeating.

Last night — purely in the interest of science, you understand — Garagiste Mike opened a bottle of the 2006 Peugeot we bottled back in April. While it’s had two months to get its sea legs, it should have been far from ready for active duty; the 05, for example, took about a year after bottling to finally skate about the deck.

The 2006 seems generally on the same trajectory, but we were both surprised at how far it’s come along. After a half hour to catch its breath in a decanter, the Peug tasted rich and full, with great depth of fruit, hint of chocolate, and a generous, luxurious feel in the mouth. And the fragrance: holy olfactory! A backdraft of pure, ripe fruit that’s totally disarming.

It was still on the hard side, though — more laser-cut steel than sanded wood — and by the time we got to the finish, it was already a few miles into Mexico and out of our jurisdiction. While there’s no guarantee it will slip back into the country some day, I think all that flavor and fragrance suggest there’s a good chance it’ll do just that.

Any one else tried it since bottling?

[ In honor of the new NBA World Champions, here's a reprint of a column I wrote back in the Jordan era about basketball and wine. Check out the stars I mention -- now that's old school, baby! ]

A dark arena surrounding a gauzy, spotlit court. Everything seems slow, supercharged and saturated, almost dreamlike. Michael Jordan, lean and crouched, is facing off against some hapless guard as the ref tosses the ball skyward. Cut to a tight shot of the ball rising to the height of its arc until Jordan is just about to touch the ball. There’s the woody sound of a cork being coaxed out of a bottle, and then freeze-frame and echoy silence — maybe the distant clink-clink of full bottles — as everything stops, hanging for a moment.

“Domaine Dunquage. Red, white, and beyond…”

Didn’t see that one during the playoffs? Neither did we, but as we wandered into sports bars, asking after their corkage fee, we began to wonder why. What is it about sports in America that has made it so inhospitable for wine, and yet so welcoming for beer and other beverages?
Continued …

>????????e getting closer. This 60% Tannat, 20% Merlot, 20% Sauvignon has a subtle grapefruit-pineapple bouquet, light mineral body with an aloe-vera finish, but is still a bit light on the acid for my taste. Around $9.

In our relentless quest to compromise each of the five senses, the Garagistes have now ticked off one more: sound. Our vast, if subterranean efforts have been highlighted in a new broadcast/podcast of Destination DIY, Julie Sabatier’s “monthly radio show and podcast about revolutionary do-it-yourself projects.”

Julie actually found us through my Life in Vine site, where I store a passel of articles I’ve written, one of two of which focus on amateur winemaking. So she brought her spiffy digital recorder and photographer Tim LaBarge down the back stairs to take a listen. “This basement has the best sound of any I’ve ever been in,” she said, incredulously — how many wineries can boast that, eh?

Mercifully, the podcast isn’t just about us. In fact, it’s mostly about amateur brewers, one set of which came to a listening party at NE Portland’s Waypost Julie threw together to debut her mix. Affable brewers Nate and Matt passed around one of their batches, and it was incredibly well-made. Hmm: if we get rid of the washer/dryer, we’d have room for a mashtun downstairs…

Here’s the podcast itself, synched with Tim’s great pics, and here’s Julie’s home at KBOO. And be sure to check out Julie’s other podcasts here : she’s definitely a skilled editor and interviewer.

Les Rastellains, Côtes du Rhône, 2007.

Merde. Either the humidity levels here in northern Florida have impaired my olfactory abilities (given the size of the proboscis in question, I may actually be acting as a sort of massive desiccant, actually drying out the region, which in turn may improve my chances of actually flying instead of spending all day at the helibase waiting for ignition), or this wine just plain lacks a bouquet. Et je vous dis merde encore.

Tasting notes: anemic synthesized raspberries, picked well before ripe. During one particularly notable sip, I thought I detected a sensation that might approximate biting into a fresh, soft, pine two-by-four, if said lumber were easily masticated. Wannabe retsina, if you will; unwilling to commit yet leaving the tongue with that vaguely preserved feeling. At best, a mineral finish, or perhaps just a hint of formaldehyde.

On a brighter note, has anyone seen Charlize Theron around town?

Bisous,
–Matt