Gattinara - Just one of the many neglected Nebbiolo wines
Barolo, Barolo, Barolo, Barbaresco, Barbaresco, Barolo, Barolo, Barbaresco, Barolo, Barolo, Where are your Barolos? I love Barolo. Barbaresco is like Barolo, right? Barolo, Barolo, Barbaresco, Barolo…
In my opinion, wines like Barolo, Barbararesco, Amarone, and Brunello, as great as they are, hold far too big a wedge of the Italian wine pie. With the nearly limitless variety that Italy possesses, it’s just short sighted and parochial to only drink these expensive, gold-plated appellations. And then we can go a level deeper…If folks know anything about Nebbiolo, they know that Barolo is made from this grape. I’d guess that about half of this number also know that Barbaresco is also made from 100% Nebbiolo. Once you’ve passed this signpost, the knowledge about Nebbiolo just drops off the shelf, and that’s a shame.
Nebbiolo is unquestionably one of the WORLD’s most “noble” grapes - Its color, aroma, flavors, and the places in which it can be grown are rarified and quite particular. The variety is absolutely and irrevocably linked to its birthplace of Piedmont in northwestern Italy. And despite many attempts to cultivate this variety elsewhere (California, Argentina, New Zealand et al.) results have ranged from satisfactory at best to COMPLETE, rapid failure - like planting the vines, and watching them die outright in the span of only a couple of years. To say that Nebbiolo gets homesick is one of the greatest understatements in the wine world. Some day, someone might overcome the great difficulties that growers have encountered in cultivating Nebbiolo outside of Piedmont, but thus far the results weighed against the costs and difficulties just don’t come out for most growers, so Nebbiolo often gets ripped up almost as fast as it went in…
So let me introduce you to Gattinara. Gattinara is one of the many, other-than-Barolo-and-Barbaresco, Nebbiolo-based wines that also hail from Piedmont’s hallowed soils. Other such appellations include Ghemme, Carema, Boca, Sizzano, Fara, Lessona, and Bramaterra…yes, all those, (and all of them are in Piedmont) and if one includes neighboring Valle d’Aosta and Lombardia, there are almost that many more! Of all of these “other” appellations, Gattinara is undoubtedly the most famous, and the one with the greatest reputation.
Believe it or not, before WW II, Gattinara held the place that Barolo now holds in terms of prestige. Traditionally, Gattinara, which sits quite a bit further north and east of the two “big B’s”, was the area that was best known for, and more heavily planted to Nebbiolo. The areas in and around the Barolo and Barbaresco zones had always been associated with the cultivation of Nebbiolo, but never to the degree that Gattinara was.
In Gattinara, the local name for Nebbiolo is Spanna , and the current DOCG regulations do allow for the addition of up to 15% of two local grape varieties - Uva Rara and Vespolina - in any percentual combination. These grapes are softer and fruitier than Spanna (Nebbiolo), and consequently can be useful in rounding out the final wine in colder, leaner vintages which are a bit more common this far north. Of late however, as climates continue to warm, and as growers learn more about clonal selection, fewer and fewer growers choose to include any Uva Rara or Vespolina. In terms of elevage, Gattinara, like Barbaresco, must be aged for a minimum of three years, one of which must be in wooden barrels, while Barolo requires at least 4 years of aging.
So why get up on a soap box about an oenological “also ran”? Well, for one thing, this “second best” status is mostly undeserved. Gattinara can be, and is often as good as its more famous neighbors - just as profound and complex, but due to differing soils, climate, and history, just DIFFERENT. But, with perception being the lion’s share of reality, Gattinara, if known to consumers at all, is thought of as a lesser thing. But not surprisingly, there’s a silver lining here, and I think that you can guess what it might be…yes, I think heard it from someone in the back…it is indeed PRICE. Now this is not to say that Gattinara is CHEAP, but it often costs less than half of what many Baroli (the Italian plural) do, and usually about 50% less than most Barbareschi (pronounced “Bar-bar-ESS-ki - the Italian plural again). So if QPR or “bang for the buck” are criteria that are high on your list, get to know Gattinara. If however, you want at all costs to cultivate a snobby edge, or just LOVE spending more than you have to for the wines you drink, by all means stick with the Baroli…obviously, my tongue is planted firmly in my cheek, but I do it to make a point, and that is not to let your buddies or collegues or your family who read a few wine rags cast aspersions on your selections because they’re not sexy or enough of a status symbol. Gattinara offers another “take” - and a great one I might add - on the nearly endless story that is Nebbiolo, so why not avail yourself of it, and keep a few extra bucks in your pocket while you do?
Just a short note - I’m taking a few days off across the labor day weekend, so I won’t be posting again until September 3rd, so until then, be well, and drink good wine!
TOM CIOCCO
When you say “wow”, remember the toil
Enjoying a bottle of wine is as easy as falling off a log. The most anyone has to do is debate a bit about whether it should be this bottle or that one, carry the bottle home from the store, set up a few glasses, find the corkscrew, pull the cork, and sip. But the experience of the winemaker and his or her staff could not be more different…
First, there’s the year in and year out worrying - What will the whims of the market bring this year? What kind of weather will we experience? Will my labor force be stable? Are my relationships with my distributors solid? What if the economy goes south? - “luxury” goods like wine are the first thing to go…These sorts of anxious concerns never really leave the heads of winemakers, despite the fact that these preoccupations are beyond the control of most vignerons.
Then there are the concrete financial concerns. Many wineries, especially in the New World, are in serious hock. And as all of us who have mortgages know, when the bank wants its money, it wants its money. The problem for winemakers is that they’re never sure that they’ll actually HAVE the money, and if they don’t, whether they’ll have sell the tractor for a mule, or learn to eat less to make up the shortfall. Many winemakers walk this knife-edge year after year with little real hope of getting ahead of the curve. There’s an old saying in the wine business that some of you may have heard that goes:
Q: “How do you make a small fortune in the wine business?”
A: “You start out with a large one?”
Clearly this is an example of a cynical joke, but there’s more than a few grains of truth to this old saw…
And then we reach the actual, backbreaking labor that is winemaking. Many winemakers (especially the really wealthy ones) never touch a grafting knife or drive a tractor in 100 degree heat, but LOTS of them do, and most of them because they have no other choice. And I can tell you from direct experience how hard at least the harvesting end of the pursuit can be. When I was living in Florence in the late 80’s just post-college, I was living basically hand to mouth off of savings and by teaching some English as a supplement. So when a friend of mine asked if I was interested in making a few Lire picking grapes in Chianti, I jumped at the chance. The money was better than anything else I could get legally (not that this was techically “legal” either), and I was already fairly deeply immersed in all things oenological, so it was a no-brainer.
My friend picked me up at 4:30 AM so we could be at the winery with pruning scissors in hand, and ready to pick by 6 AM. It was late September, and up in the hills of Chianti at that hour, it was dark, damp, and cold. In Chianti, most of the vines are set up in various mid-height training systems. The tops of the vines are usually about at eye level, but the bunches themselves hang between chest and knee-level, so this clearly means bending over ALL DAY (12 hour day by the way). We were instructed to take all but the most damaged or underripe bunches (which requires digging through layers of foliage) and fill the coal bucket-sized plastic pails provided. Once full, we were to pass the pails under the row we were working on to the nearest row that had a tractor with a wheeled bin hooked up behind. The pails were emptied into these bins, passed back, and the picking continued. Needless to say, this is literally back-breaking work, and there’s no better way to do it. Some tried working from their knees, but soon found out that this was just as fatiguing, and even slower going, which elicited some serious castigation and whip-cracking from the old-timers…
And let me add a little wrinkle to all this sweet misery (there’s alwyas a “wrinkle” or two, isn’t there?). The vintage year was 1989, and those of you who know their Chianti vintages know that this was a cool, wet year which brought plenty of rot. Rot equals split berries, and split berries bring BEES and WASPS. Guess what happens when you separate these critters from their lunches…yes, I think I heard somebody mumble the answer - you get STUNG - REPEATEDLY…It took 5 days to complete the harvest…
The list of obstacles, hardships, hidden costs, and general frustrations involved in winemaking could go on for pages, but the little vignettes outlined above give a fair “core sample” of how decidedly UNROMANTIC winemaking really is for the most part, unless of course you’re a millionaire industrialist that can hire others to sweat and worry while you attend gold-plated wine galas and pose for slick magazine ads in vineyards that you may have only ever set foot in for the photo shoot, sSo the next time you raise a glass of nectar to your lips, remember those who truly sweat, strain, and bleed to make it.
TOM CIOCCO
Dornfelder - Germany’s great red hope?
The “RARE GRAPE” series continues…
This might come as a shock to some of you, but Germany does make red wines - granted they are few and far between, but regions like Baden,and the Pfalz in the southwest, and the Ahr further north and east are just as well known for their red wines as their whites. The more southerly climes and more hours of sun in these regions allow growers to cultivate traditional, uncrossed red grape varieties like Lemberger (a.k.a. Blaufrankisch) and Spatburgunder (the German name for Pinot Noir - yes, Germany makes Pinot Noir, and some pretty damned good ones at that), but the problem even in these warmer regions is consistency. Though global warming may make this phenomenon a thing of the past, German red wine makers always had difficulty fully ripening their red varieties with any real consistency. Certain particularly hot years could yield wines with enough color, weight, and alcohol to make them universally appealing, but all too often when Mother Nature caught a little cold, the results were often thin, pale, and pinched - wines that were more like roses than reds, and were consumed locally for reasons more having to do with local pride than for the ultimate quality of the wines.
And then there’s Dornfelder (sounds like the title of a scrapped Woody Allen movie script, no?). As I alluded to above, Dornfelder is not a “natural” variety. Dornfelder was born in Germany only in 1956 to a single (agronomist) parent named August Herold who crossed two other hybridized varieties, one called Helfensteiner, and the other called Heroldrebe (Herold’s “child” as well as the name clearly illustrates). But despite all the good efforts of dedicated scientists, hybrid grape varieties tend to be ultimately underwhelming. They nearly always display the storied “hybrid vigor” that crossed varieties often possess, and in fact, this is often the primary reason for their existence in the first place, but no matter how carefully this or that charteristic is selected for, the final result is quite unpredictable, so many crossed varieties exist nowhere else than in a genetics bank. No grower that doesn’t have to deal with crossed varieties does so willingly, but historically, Germany’s only chance to make red wine was via this route.
All that being said, and though not perfect, Dornfelder stands out as one of the most succesful modern crossings. First, Dornfelder yields very deeply colored juice even in cooler vintages. This is a big plus for for a place whose reds can perhaps best be described as a bit wan. The second plus to Dornfelder are yields. Also due to the often chilly German climate, those that make wines from uncrossed Vitis Vinifera vines can’t make very much wine - the place’s climate just naturally reduces yields. No such problems with Dornfelder - harvests are bountiful. Third, Dornfelder ripens quite early, so any chances of getting burned by an early frost are dramtically reduced. Finally, true to its crossed roots, Dornfelder is indeed highly resistant to most of the major vine diseases.
So what’s it like in the glass? As already stated, Dornfelder wines are deeply colored - often a sultry, purply garnet color. The wines always show a fresh acidity, and also react quite well to moderate amounts of wood aging that can add another level to the wines. Flavor/aroma-wise, Dorfelder is often said to possess a velvety “sweet” texture with flavors of exotic spice, berries, and a violet-y florality. If I had to make a specific comparison to another, traditional wine, I’d say Dornfelder most resembles one of the big cru Beaujolaises like Morgon or Moulin-a-Vent.
As might be inferred from the similarities to serious Beaujolais, Dornfelder wines pair well with dry salamis and hams, as well as grilled fresh sausages, chicken, and rabbit, and soft-ripened cow’s milk cheeses as well as herbed goat cheeses.
Below is a link to the two Dornfelder wines we’re currently stocking. As always, if you pick up one of these, or any other from elsewhere, please post your tasting notes here.
TOM CIOCCO
DR DORNFELDER, PLEASE REPORT TO THE DINNER TABLE - DR DORNFELDER
Hey everybody, I’d like you to meet Brett…
I wouldn’t quite call Brett a friend…let’s call “him” an infrequent collaborator, and more often, a frequent adversary…Brett’s full name is actually Brettanomyces, and Brett is a yeast. Brett in fact comes from a big family - nine “brothers” and “sisters” actually…to be honest, most of them are problem children, though one or two are not so bad…OK, sustaining the “family” metaphor might get a bit difficult, and probably would also get a bit annoying, so I return to my regularly scheduled style…
Many of you are familiar with Brettanomyces, though you may not know it consciously. Brettanomyces is most often considered to be the source of certain (primarily) flawed aromas in wine. The smell of a brett-infected wine is most often said to display aromas of “sweaty saddle”, or “wet fur”, or even that most evocative descriptor, “barnyard” aromas. Due to some fairly complex chemistry, Brettanomyces is more likely to effect red wines than whites, but encountering Brett in a white wine is not impossible.
But as I’ve alluded to above, Brettanomyces isn’t all bad - there are particular strains of Brett that produce certain kinds of volatile phenol compounds that can lend, in moderate levels, notes of ground brown spices like clove or allspice that can be quite appealing. The problem is is that actually courting the growth of Brett in one’s wines is a dangerous dance indeed, since identifying and isolating just the favorable strains can be nigh on impossible, and if you wind up with the wrong ones, you’re in deep doo-doo. And even if one could be sure that one had 100% of the “good” Brett, a surplus of even these strains, at too high levels, can also unpleasantly distort a wine.
Brettanomyces, once ensconced, is a formidable and tenacious opponent. Like TCA (the acronym for the chemical that causes the “corkiness” smell), Brett can take up residence in so many places in the cellar: in barrels, unsanitary hoses, fermantation tanks, crushers, etc., so idenifying the source of the infestation can be elusive, and one can only be ABSOLUTELY Brett-free by assiduously cleaning EVERYTHING (this includes the floors, walls, ceiling - EVERYTHING), and divesting yourself of every barrel in you cellar. Clearly this can only be done in the “off season”, and is obviously VERY costly to the winemaker. It is for this very unpleasent possibility that most winemakers do not encourage the growth of even the “good” Brett strains…
Thankfully, the rampant growth of Brettanomyces can be prevented and controlled. Those who often wonder why there are sulfites in the wines that they drink can look at least in part to the role that sulfites play in inhibiting the growth of Brett. But sulfites are not a “magic bullet” either - Brett can, and all too often does, fully or partially overcome the effects of the sulfites, making its smelliness quite easily detectable. The only sure ways to elimate Brett is via an involved sterile filtration process that some winemakers feel can damage the final product, and is quite expensive as well, or with the use of a chemical called dimethyl dicarbonate. But while DMDC, as it is abbreviated, can be used in The United States, South Africa, and New Zealand, it is strictly verboten everywhere else, and therefore ceases to be an option for so many wineries.
So let’s get down to the drinking - you’ve got a wine that you think is infected with Brett - what to do? Well, the first thing to make very clear is that Brettanomyces is not toxic in any way, it’s just stinky, so don’t worry about getting sick if you’ve already taken a few sips of the wine before you figured out what that funny smell was…So what to do?…Despite the seeming gravity and irreversible nature of a Brett infection, “Brettiness”, if it is not too intense, can actually “blow off”. Exactly what is afoot in the “blowing off” process I don’t really know (if anybody knows for sure, please educate us), but I’d GUESS that the exposure to air either kills the odor-producing yeasts, or that there is only a small and finite part per million count to begin with, and the inevitable give and take with the air dilutes the compounds below the level of detectability. There are cases however, in which a wine is irredeemably “Bretty”, and in such cases there is little that one can do other than trying to get a refund from your retailer, or failing that, dumping it down the drain. Like corked wines, Brett-infected wines are not even suitable for cooking because the unpleasant aromas can and will be imparted to your food. No good.
TOM CIOCCO
Looking at the world through rose-colored glassware
So many really sound wine-drinking advices and provvisos now seem so much part of the canon of wine-drinking knowledge that many now seem almost too silly to mention, but here’s one that I just need to be sure that everyone has grasped (though one could argue that anyone reading this blog already knows what I’m about to say all too well, but I raise a glass to the few who perhaps don’t, and perhaps more so to the friends and families of those who know, and just need a little extra push to broach the subject…)
…the subject is glassware, but it’s not the same old dilemma about whether this or that glass makes the wine taste different, better, or whatever. This topic is much more basic…
We’ve all been invited to friends or relative’s houses (usually not the residence of an oenophile as we shall see) for some pretty fancy dinners. One if not more of the hosts are excellent cooks, love to, and know how to really entertain guests, are great converstionalists, and really pride themselves on setting a beautiful table, as well. Everything sounds good, right? And for the most part it is, and in the end, this is all one could ask for as a guest, except for one small part of that last point - the part about the table settings…Real care is taken in this arena - matching the linen napkins to the dishware, silverware, tablecloth, etc. If the dinner’s theme is Armenian, this thoughtful host or hostess might even utilize the red, blue, and orange colors of the Armenian flag for that little extra something. Very nice indeed.
But all too often, those that like to fuss that much in their table preparations are also a bit prone to gilding the lily, and this unfortunately can sometimes extend to the stemware. Sadly, in trying to play the theme out past it’s natural level of real functionality, wineglasses wind up dressed up for Halloween, i.e. made up and costumed. I’m talking for instance about those sapphire blue goblets that look more like little vases than wine glasses. I’m also talking about those 9 inch-tall, super thick-rimmed, “antique” styled glasses with the green rims, and the charming bubbles trapped in the ripple-textured glass. Though these types of table settings certainly add a certain “mood” to a table, their presence is nearly wholly aesthetic, and only minimally functional.
I don’t want to make too much of the notion that wine glasses are “tools” to drink wine, but rejecting any such notion out of hand leaves one faced with possibility of drinking wine from crockery coffee mugs or children’s plastic sippy cups. Hyperbole? perhaps, but the glassware mentioned above, not to mention these sorts of vessels, just won’t cut it for the real wine lover.
First, those who love their wine want not only to appreciate it’s aromas and flavors, but its color as well. This is not possible in a tinted or opaque glass. Second, the shapes of many of these more flamboyant glasses are not conducive to either swirling the wine or even maximizing the collection of aromas in the empty space above the wine. Many of these kinds of glasses are V-shaped for example which makes swirling wine more likely that you’ll spalsh it onto the tablecloth or your friend’s wife. That shape also encourages more of the wines aromas to dissipate into the air than to collect in your sinuses. Another aspect of shape can also diminish the wine-drinking experience, and that is glass thickness. Precisely why this is the case no one is sure, but experiment after experiment has shown that the thinner the glass from which one drinks is, the more subjects seems to enjoy the wine. The main theory holds that some microcurrent-related phenomenon or oxygenation effect may be at work when wine spills across a very thin, delicate brim as opposed to a thick, clumsy one. But whatever the actual “scientific” reason for it, I think we’ve all experienced it. For the doubters, take it to the extreme - pour yourself out equal quantities of your favorite wine - one into a $40 glass or crystal stem, and the other dram into a plastic coffee mug, and see from which vessel the wine tastes better…
So at your next dinner party, by all means pull out all of the stops - often the little details are what “make” an evening, but whether your guests are oenophiles or common winos, resist the urge to trade the tried and true elements of a good wine glass for a more obviously, purely “aesthetic” choice.
TOM CIOCCO
