by Leslie Stephens
on Apr 24, 2014
When Scott Holliday visited Chateau Tour Grise in the Loire Valley just before harvest time two years ago, it had been raining for weeks, leaving the grapes to soak up water. Everyone feared a catastrophe — “You could see it on everyone’s face – just weary from the battle.” But instead of a wasted season of diluted wine, the final result was stunning. Resembling a Rosé, Holiday remembers, “It was simple little sandwich wine but I enjoyed that more than any other wine I’d tasted all year long.”
It’s personal experiences like these that Holiday likes to incorporate into the wine list at Rendezvous in Cambridge, where he serves as co-wine director with Nicole Bernier. They have many Italian and Spanish wines to match the mediterranean cuisine, but France makes up the majority of selections, reflecting Holiday’s belief that this is the best country to start a wine education with. “The French are very comfortable with hierarchy and structure,“ he says. A Burgundy or Bordeaux often represent their regions consistently, so it is easier ”to explore wine within these categories.”
Since joining Rendezvous in 2008, Holiday has shifted the wine list towards organic and biodynamic wines. While offering organic selections from several larger producers, he strives to support smaller winemakers as well. “I’ve worked in small independent restaurants, and there’s a certain kinship between what we do and what they do. I relate to them on a very visceral level.”
While supporting the practices, Holiday does not indicate which bottles are organic or biodynamic on the menu. Instead, he prefers to discuss the wines in person with his customers, so they can make their own informed decision. "I feel like there are more people drinking, but I think the baseline knowledge has gone down. There are all these people who we have the opportunity to educate and to encourage.”
One of his favorite customer interactions came last year, when Holliday explained the biodynamic process to a young graduate student. She was very taken by it, and came back repeatedly over the next year saying, “I want the wine that was made with the moon.” Holliday reflects, “She got it. Maybe not in all its technical aspects, but certainly in the poetry behind it.”
502 Massachusetts Avenue, Cambridge
by Fabio Bartolomei
on Apr 21, 2014
Vinos Ambiz Table at the Real Wine Fair.
Winemaker Fabio Bartolomei from Spain’s Vinos Ambiz traveled to London to present his wines at the Real Wine Fair 2014. Here’s his experience:
I’m just back in Madrid after an intense 4 days in London, 2 days of which were taken up by the REAL Wine Fair itself, and 2 days of which were for me!
My main mission: to boldly seek out an importer for my wines in the UK.
Sunday was the day the fair was open to the public, and the forecast was that it would be busy. And it was! I have to say that I’ve never had to work so hard at a fair in all the years I’ve been exhibiting at wine fairs.
The time just flew from 10:00 to 18:00. I did nothing but speak and pour wine, and I had sore feet and a sore throat! Usually, at wine fairs, I prepare a sign that says “I`ll be back!” and I go off and taste as many wines as I can and chat about wine stuff! But this time… I didn’t even have time to prepare the sign!
I suspect that something viral or ‘word-of-mouth’ happened, as the first thing that many people said to me was “I’ve been recommended to come taste your wines by….”. It was awesome, thinking about it. It’s really the best and most sincere compliment that can be given to a wine producer. It has encouraged me no end, and has reconfirmed my belief that I should listen to myself, my heart and my intuition. I generally do, but there are moments when I’m assailed by doubts. The memory of that day will help to keep me on the right path. The path of low-intervention, terroir-expressing wines!
The next day, the Monday, was a trade day, and I was also quite busy, though not as much as the Sunday. And in fact I had a volunteer helper: Leila, a friend who I was out with the day before, and she asked me directly “Can I be you wine bitch tomorrow?” I was shocked and speechless for a few seconds! Because, not living in the UK, I’m not really sure these days what’s politically correct or socially acceptable to say or not anymore, but if she said it then I guess it must be OK!
Fabio Bartolomei and his wine b$#@$ Leila.
So, thanks to her, I was able to escape from my table a few times and taste some other wines, but not nearly as much as I would have liked to. Apart from restaurant and wine shop people, I also got some growers coming round to taste my wines, which is quite unusual for me (unless they knew me previously from some other occasion). I could tell they were growers because they were silent and didn’t ask any of the usual questions. They would just hold out their glasses, sniff, taste and look each other in the eye silently, and then go away!
So I don’t know what to think about that! But I think I’m going to take it as a compliment, because they must have had some kind of recommendation from someone, and they actually took the time to get away from their table. Unfortunately I don’t actually know what they thought of my wines, as they were so taciturn!
And then lastly, to round it all off, was the Georgian banquet, or Georgian supra, as it’s called. This is a wonderful way of having a dinner or banquet. Basically, instead of just one or two main courses, there was a constant flow of small dishes of different things.
But the main distinguishing element of a Georgian dinner, is the custom of giving toasts to all the guests. Every so often during the meal, you hear the ting, ting, ting of a knife on a glass and that’s the signal that the toastmaster is about to give a toast. I think this is a great custom, and we should adopt it here in Western Europe too. It has the effect of bringing all the guests at the different tables, together and of uniting everybody in a way. I found, at any rate.
Yet another distinguishing feature of Georgian banquets, is the singing. This time there is no ting ting ting on the glass, but every so often you hear the melancholic, minor key, sad, sad singing of two or more voices. You may or may not like it, but I’m a sucker for it, and it actually really did bring a tear to my eye. What with all that Georgian wine flowing too, and me being like the way I am! Of course I have no idea what the words in Georgian mean, but I’m imagining deep tragedies and laments, and yearnings; maybe from the Persian invasions of a few thousand years ago! I don’t know.
The next day, I was to fly back to Madrid – but in the afternoon. I decided a few years ago, that life was too short, not only to drink bad wine, but also to take early morning (or even morning) flights!
Which gave me time to go to the Doodle Bar, in the TestBed1 space/project/thing, which is in danger of being “redeveloped”. I hope my little contribution helps.
And then it really was time to go home. But wow, what a weekend, what a refreshing, illuminating, and encouraging few days. Just what body and soul needs, maybe just a few times a year
by Andy Besch
on Apr 14, 2014
South American wines have enjoyed quite a run in the United States, thanks to their reasonable prices and their boringly even quality. They aren’t terrible, but they aren’t, for the most part, the least bit special. So when one comes along that truly breaks the mold, it really stands out.
Louis-Antoine Luyt is a winemaker who saw an opportunity in the sea of completely ordinary wines he tasted in Chile. Bored with living in France, he arrived there as a 22 year old, got a job as a dishwasher and worked his way up to wine buyer. After studying winemaking in a class, he decided to go back to France to learn more. He studied in Beaune and worked five harvests under the tutelage of Mathieu Lapierre (the son of the legendary Marcel Lapierre) in Morgon, and then returned to Chile determined to make extraordinary wines. He found a number of small vineyards with very old vines (some as old as 300 years), but their grapes were either being sold off to huge wineries or being made into so-so wines by the locals for their own consumption. So he took over the vineyards and employed Lapierre’s techniques, converting to organic farming, plowing with horses, and staying away from irrigation. Now he makes arguably the most interesting and complex Chlean wines out there.
In the winery, Luyt uses only natural yeasts and minimal sulfur. The wines undergo carbonic maceration and they are all remarkably low in alcohol. The result is Chilean wine that can stand up to the finest red wines anywhere in the world. The Carignan Trequilemu is made from 70 year-old vines, and is a rich, dark, earthy beauty that’s amazingly vibrant and alive. 12.9% alcohol levels are a big reason why.
We sneak slightly over the $20 a bottle criteria with this one, but for a couple of bucks more you’ll get a whole new take on Chilean wines. I remember all too well my reaction to Luyt’s wines when I first sampled them, and I know you’ll enjoy that same revelatory experience. The label, inspired by the Santiago transit system, is a standout, too. You can’t miss it in a retail environment.