“Between 1775 and 1818 there lived and flourished (more or less) in Malta, Naples, Paris, and elsewhere, a notable composer, Nicolo Isouard, more generally known as Nicolo. He wrote many operas, all of which are now forgotten. Having lived in Naples he was a great macaroni eater, and prepared the dish himself in a somewhat original manner. He stuffed each tube of macaroni with a mixture of marrow, pate de foi gras, chopped truffles, and cut-up oysters. He then heated up the preparation, and ate it with his left hand covering up his eyes, for he asserted that he could not afford to allow the beautiful thoughts engendered by such exquisite food to be disturbed by an extraneous mundane sight. No wonder he died young.”
—From The Greedy Book by Frank Schloesser
Whether you find such reports enticing or disgusting depends, I’d venture, on what state your appetite is in. But can you deny the appeal of the idea? A little stolen moment of opulence. A mouthful of something tasty and rare, even if only on special occasions, confirms that we’re not just surviving here – we’re sometimes actually living.
Thus, my newfound revelation about red Burgundy. Everyone who has shopped for it or ordered it in fancy French restaurants knows it is prohibitively expensive and frequently disappointing. Of all wines in the world to collect, it is undoubtedly the riskiest and most foolish investment. It is fickle, mercurial and downright thin in most vintages. But have you ever had a good one? Ah yes…..that’s living.
Try this. Acquire a pair of Cornish game hens and rub them inside and out with fresh butter, salt and pepper. Then sauté a chopped shallot with ¼ lb of wild mushrooms and some herbes de Provence in a frying pan, about 3 min. Toss with plain bread crumbs and a dash of Cognac; stuff the cavity of the birds with the mixture, and roast them at 350º for just shy of an hour, until the skin crisps and the juices from the leg run clear. Serve with buttered potatoes or noodles and a pot of good French mustard.
To be honest, you could serve almost any wine here-red, white, pink or even Champagne. As I’ve seen one wine shop in New York City cheekily advertise: ALL WINES GO WITH CHICKEN. True. But the darker meat of a small hen, especially if it has the sinew and pasture-fed gaminess of a free range bird, conjures mid-weight, earthy reds to me. In this case, the mushrooms seal the deal. Pinots from Burgundy-silken, fragrant and savory-both flatter and are flattered by this dish.
These days, decent Burgundy starts at about $20 for a basic villages-level Bourgogne. Good Burgundy with a name you might recognize starts at $35. For $50 and above, the 1er Cru and Grand Cru selections open up. It’s no bargain, but for a wine of such scarcity and devotional allegiance, it’s not unreasonable either. The real question to ask, as you pick the price and quality of your wine is how do you feel about your dinner guests?
Once you’ve committed to the region and the expenditure, there is the choice of appellation to consider. The first decision is easy. While the wines from the Cotes de Nuits in Burgundy’s northern half are generally the stars, their black fruit flavors and sturdy structures seem to me a little rich for poultry. They share more of an affinity for red meats, whose blood mingles with their molten iron core. Among the lighter, brighter, southerly Cotes de Beaunes lie the wines that seem designed for a chicken dinner.
So which Cotes de Beaune works best? Pommard has a gutsy earthiness that I admire and Savigny-les-Beaune lures with its light, treble clef jazz; but the satin elegance and cherry-sweet warmth of Volnay seems the most poetic match for these tender little birds. The wines are consistently fine, too; the unusually high number (34) of 1er Cru vineyards in Volnay means the chance of getting wine from a good site is high.
Some great organic producers include Roblet-Monnot (biodynamic), Michel Lafarge (organic), Jean-Marc Bouley (organic), and Hubert de Montille (organic). Sustainable viticulturists from the old school include Joseph Voillot and Francois Buffet.
The Roblet-Monnot Volnay ‘St Francois’ 2006, crafted by Pascal Roblet-Monnot, is especially intricate and wonderful. Pascal’s family has vines predominantly in Volnay, and in Pommard as well. I have not tried it yet with game hens, but a bottle I opened one night with a rib-eye steak, smothered in duxelles and a bundle of buttered asparagus was ravishing. All through dinner, I instinctively held my left hand near my eyes…
I’m in a cozy 1915 Craftsman in Rockridge, California. A house that, in the same auspicious week Obama won the Presidency, earned the title of Greenest House In The World. “For about 2 seconds,” says eco-visionary David Gottfried. He’s modest, and mindful that scores of homes are soon to follow the green trail they’ve blazed. David lives in the house with his wife Sara, and their beautiful girls Gemma and Maya. It’s a far cry from the sprawling flat Sara and I shared in med school, where the greenest thing was the Thai chicken curry we’d sometimes make to calm examination-eve nerves.
The Gottfrieds moved in just a few months ago, after a painstaking deep-green renovation that garnered this green gem of a house a record-breaking 106.5 points (out of a possible 136) under the “LEED for Homes” certification system. David helped pioneer the LEED (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design) Green Building Rating System in 1993.
My friends’ goals for their renovation were simple, if characteristically ambitious. “We hoped to showcase how to green an old historic home and still achieve LEED Platinum, as well as downsize 50% for a family of four,” says David, the founder of the U.S. and World Green Building Councils and now CEO of Regenerative Ventures.
When I’d last visited Sara and David four years ago, they occupied a 2,600 square-foot home in Berkeley Hills, CA. They now live one town over, in the charming Rockridge neighborhood of Oakland, in a home whose unassuming size (it’s all of 1,440 square feet) belies its style, drama, and comfort.
Knowing Sara, I’d expected nothing less. Back in medical school, when the rest of us were just trying not to look sleep-deprived, this Alaska native found time to cook and rock climb, and sported hip eyewear and clothes that would’ve made Sarah Palin jealous (with a brain that Palin could only dream about). Now, when she’s not busy running her cutting-edge integrative women’s health practice, teaching yoga, or shuttling her daughters to birthday parties, Dr. Gottfried scours the internet for environmentally-conscious design ideas and blogs about their eco-adventures in their new “old home.”
Sara’s flair is evident throughout the house: in the soothing hues of non-toxic Mythic paint adorning the walls, the peaceful bronze Buddhas presiding over the mud room, the iridescent abalone tiles studding the bathroom floors—“eco-bling,” as Sara calls it. And it’s David’s genius for green that brings their house within reach of their net-zero energy goal. Solar photovoltaic panels on the roof supply the electricity for their super-efficient Bosch kitchen appliances and elegant lighting throughout the home. The sun also fuels their water heater and stylish hydronic radiators. “Rainhogs” scored from last fall’s Slow Food Nation hoopla in San Francisco collect rainwater to fill the dual-flush toilet in the guest bathroom. Greywater from the sinks and shower is funneled to the native-species garden and raised vegetable bed outside.
For my first evening with Sara and David we toast their new home with a bottle of 2006 Madigan Cabernet Sauvignon from nearby Napa Valley. A great value at $16, the wine’s enough to convince David to abandon, for the evening, the strict no-sugar diet he and Sara have been following for some weeks (Sara’s more disciplined, though I can tell she’s tempted). The label depicts a fine castle, which we readily embrace as a metaphor for the green Gottfried abode. Though not certified organic, the Madigan winemakers hew to organic principles, avoiding pesticides and herbicides and watering their vines sparingly. Dark fruit, pepper, and wood notes combine in balanced harmony, and the tannins are soft and silky. The wine, like the house, may not be big, but it satisfies, honors the environment and hits all the right notes.
We dine that night on organic delicacies from Three Stone Hearth, the local “CSK,” or Community Supported Kitchen (only in California… but hopefully not for long). This inventive Berkeley-based cooperative sources local, seasonal products from ecologically-minded farmers and ranchers and turns them into delicious nutrient-rich gumbos, curries, pickles, salads, and stews. On this particular evening, we feast on chicken liver paté, Moroccan lemon chicken with olives and raisins, and quinoa with roasted orange cauliflower salad. Yogurty Point Reyes blue cheese dressing adorns our wild mixed greens. Gone may be the days when busy Sara whips up a Thai green curry chicken on a whim, but clearly this inspiring role model now has her green, and eats it too.
A customer goes into a wine shop to get the latest vintage of his favorite wine. Last year he drank a case of the dynamic and pure 2006 Domaine X and got hooked. So when he gets that call from his wine salesman that the 2007 vintage is in, he rushes in to buy another case. That night, with his lovely leg of lamb, he opens a bottle of the 2007 Domaine X. His first reaction is that there is something wrong with the wine. It barely has any fruit; the acid is high-toned and is sticking out on his palate. There is a mass of tannin and the finish is acrid. The food makes it more palatable, but all in all, it is a disappointment. The customer has lost faith in the wine merchant and will never buy from him again. He is actually considering returning the case.
Pretty scary scenario. Also, pretty common. You would be surprised. So what exactly happened? Having twelve years of experience in retail, I’ll tell you: Wine shop owners, managers and salespeople generally have no idea how much damage is done to the wine during the cross-Atlantic trip or in the trip across the USA.
Most consumers are aware that European wines come here on ships in containers and most of them are refrigerated. In the wine business we call them “reefers,” and some customers must think we are the biggest potheads the way we constantly talk about them. But they are a good thing and in increased demand.
In the 1970s, when iconic importers such as Kermit Lynch and Robert Kacher started shipping wine from Europe, reefers were just starting out and did not exist on the grand level they do today. It is amazing to think how damaged the wine was that came over here in the 1960s and 1970s and how no one knew. Today it is better, but not perfect. There is still a significant chance for heat or cold damage due to the long trip and all the different transfers the wine makes. The process, if you break it down, is ridiculous and is very risky with your wine.
Most French, Spanish, Austrian and German vignerons have naturally cold cellars, but as soon as the wine leaves the cellar, all bets are off. Typically it is put in a non-reefer truck, as reefers cost more in Europe. They can sit in a hot port, unrefrigerated for a long time, waiting to be loaded. And when the wines are finally put into the shipping containers, that doesn’t mean the reefers are turned on right away, either. That costs money. They can lie around the docks that way for a while as well.
After all that, the next worry is vibration. The oceans are not that calm. This isn’t the Hudson River, where you can land a 747 if you really need to. It is a bumpy ride that can expose the wine from a little to severe vibration, which will render the wine inexpressive upon arrival and for several months after that.
Even if the wine is not permanently damaged, it can take months for the wine to recover from an international trip. Three weeks is a good rule of thumb for a cross-country USA trip.
This explains what our customer experienced with the 2007 Domaine X. Did he know? No. Did anybody in the hierarchy of the store know? No, and if they did, would they really want to kill a sale right there and say, “Come back in six months and then your wine will be ready to drink”? “Trust us. Ya got to believe us.” Frankly it’s a dilemma and a shame that this type of dishonesty happens, but there really isn’t a way out of it. It’s up to the ethics of the retailer or restaurateur. Restaurants used to have the luxury of storing wine in their cellars until it was ready. Not any more. These days, wine lists contain tons of great YOUNG wines that are probably affected by some sort of trip damage.
Another small question to address is how much the overseas trip actually affects the ageing of wine. I shot an e-mail to David Schildneckt, critic for the Wine Advocate and an extremely passionate and excellent wine writer. In his expert opinion, based on tasting and comparison, a wine’s evolution might fast-forward three to six months due to the trip overseas. David admits this may be a slightly unfair observation, as most buyers, even in Europe, are not drinking directly from the grower’s cellar.
But here is the real shocker. David says most other forms of transporting wine are even more damaging than the reefers on an overseas trip. What?
Most wines delivered from the West Coast come by rail, and that is a bumpy, hot, unprotected ride. The price for a train or truck reefer going cross-country is much more than one coming from overseas. Even wine from Europe is likely to be transferred by rail once it arrives. Then the destruction starts from intense vibrations and variable temperature conditions. David says he has seen wine from California railroaded to the Midwest that has been so devastated during the trip that the ink has been torn off the labels. Imagine what goes on with the wine that is inside that bottle.
What is the retailer’s responsibility? What is the importer’s responsibility? What is the wine writer’s responsibility? It’s an interesting ethical debate, and what is so fascinating about it is who gets screwed in the process. I started with the consumer because he is the first to get screwed. Unknowingly too. The typical wine drinker does not understand or even care to understand the complexity of shipping wine. Is it the retailer’s responsibility to educate the customer at the peril of losing a sale or many sales? Is it the importer’s or wholesaler’s responsibility to notify the retailer? An importer/distributor typically will call a retailer or restaurateur to say a wine is in, but NEVER do they add it should be left alone for three to six months due to travel shock. They want that sale too. No one in this cash-flow business wants to sit on inventory. Especially inventory they know they can sell as soon as it comes in. Get it in, get it out.
So what can the customer do?
1) Ask your retailer questions. Have you had this wine since it has arrived at your store? When did it arrive? Is it as open and expressive now as it should be? Questions like that will inform the retailer that you are an interested customer and they will be frank with you, if for no other reason than they will know that you are knowledgeable and will fear losing your business if they mislead you.
2) If you are thinking of buying a case of a particular wine, try a bottle from the retailer where you are going to buy it. Better to make a mistake on a single bottle than a case.
3) Try to deal with well-respected retailers who ask the right questions of their suppliers to ensure that they are receiving wine in good condition.
Wine storage and transportation is a complex subject, and I hope this has made people more aware that the trip does indeed kill the wine, even if it is for a short time.
Let it be known that at one point in my wine drinking life, the word ”Chinon” sent shivers down my spine and right through my palate. I loathed the place. Couldn’t bear to be around anything in liquid form from it. So what did the unassuming Cabernet Franc grape ever do to me..? It stunk. Literally. There was an array of aromas wafting out of the glass that made me think that someone had let their pet defecate in it. It was that bad.
But as I stopped worrying about what was in my glass and learned to not love oak and sugar so much, I began to revisit the unsung hero of Bordeaux blends and king of funk, Cabernet Franc. Sure, it’s one of the five main grape varietals permitted in the great Bordeaux blends, and rarely ever gets past 25% there, but in a few parts of the world this funky bunch of grapes is let loose and given the run of the bottle in all it’s awkward beauty.
Which brings me to the 2002 Olga Raffault Chinon “Les Picasses” This comes from one of the most legendary producers in the the entire Chinon appellation and the family has had a long standing history of producing great wines in the Loire Valley. On a recent visit to the Chelsea Wine Vault, someone steered me in the direction of Ms. Raffault’s wines when I mentioned I had grown an appreciation for the unique earthy qualities of Cabernet Franc when left alone. What I found was a wine that is incredibly indicative of the terrior of the region given the amount of limestone, clay and chalk that is in the soil. You can almost smell the rocks in this wine (and no, I’m not talking about a Bartles and James wine cooler over ice).
In the glass, it has a somewhat translucent color (not unlike a wine from Burgundy) but there is a noticeable hue of brick that made me think that this wine had seen some age and/or had oxidized a bit. On the nose, there is an overwhelming aroma of dust, earth, minerals, and even dried leather followed by a hint of ripe cherries and currant. This made me think I was in for a big brooding wine that was going to taste like it had aged in a barnyard and had been lovingly cared for by a huge cow. I mean no disrespect, Ms. Raffault.
What I got on the palate was a very lively wine (only 12 1/2 % alcohol) that had a decent amount of acidity to it and showed more of the cherry flavor on the mid palate. It then dissipated quickly, leaving the acid behind on a short finish. The oak here seems like it was used for simply mellowing out the tannins and there is almost no hint of it anywhere. Unfortunately, the tannins were a bit too firm for my liking, but even after being in the glass for only an hour they stated to soften a bit, leading me to think this wine will get better with a bit more age.
Bottom line with this wine is that it’s not something I would just sit down to drink by itself since it just lacked a little depth to it that I like when getting to know a wine mano a mano. It needs some food (which is common for most 100% Cab Franc), and eating while you drink wine is not such a bad thing, am I right? So like any stinky friend, it just needs someone (or some cheese) who will appreciate it for what’s on the inside and not just how she smells.
Organic and biodynamic wine growers don’t feed plants, they feed the soil through the use of compost, cover crops, compost teas, and in biodynamics with biodyanimic preparations (the term biodynamic preparation is intimidating, but they are simply chamomile blossoms, oak bark, dandelion flowers, valerian flowers, yarrow blossoms, stinging nettle and silica.)
Compost is made up of organic matter such as animal manure, grape pomace, and other organic materials. A wine grower spends an entire year preparing a compost pile. They each have a particular method for preparing their compost, employing unique recipes using special ingredients that provide the right nutrients for their vineyard. Compost is filled with microorganisms that stimulate plant growth, making the vineyard healthy and disease resistant. Microorganisms eat organic materials and digest minerals that pass through their system. Mike Benziger, of Benziger Winery in Sonoma Valley, describes the process as “a huge food factory that provides a gourmet feast for plants.”
Bob Cannard, who has been providing Chez Pannise with vegetables for the past 25 years and who is the vineyard manager for Cline Cellars in Sonoma, brews huge vats of compost tea. Instead of making a rich and delicious stock for human consumption, he makes a nutritious vegetable stock for his farm and vineyards. He also spreads finely ground minerals, such as silica and limestone, throughout his vineyards depending on the needs of each particular site.
In organic vineyards, leguminous cover crops are grown in rows between the vines. These cover crops not only attract beneficial insects, which attack bad insects, but they provide nutrients to the grapevines.
Non-organic vineyards are barren and devoid of life. Organic and biodynamic vineyards are buzzing with activity, ranging from the visible to the microscopic. At a glance one sees insects, bees, birds, chickens, sheep, cows, and the variety of plants needed to attract and sustain them. In the microscopic world of the soil, microorganisms help decompose organic matter, releasing nitrogen, phosphorus and potassium, which are then taken up by the plant as nutrients.
I hope this explains a little bit about organic and biodynamic viticulture. I have the greatest respect for winegrowers and workers that tend organic and biodynamic vineyards, all of whom are sensitive to the life forces in the vineyard – the best of which can capture it in a bottle.
Not only are wines being made in Idaho, they’re being made organically as well. I spoke with Gary Cunningham who, along with his wife Martha, own and operate 3 Horse Ranch Vineyards.
The fifth U.S Return To Terroir tasting hits New York City this February 23rd at the Metropolitan Pavillion. Over 80 of the top biodynamic wineries from around the world will be showcasing their wines. Nicolas Joly will also be presenting a seminar about The Urgent Need For Biodynamics.
Registration is required for all. Go to www.terroirevent.com for more information.
I’m in a cozy 1915 Craftsman in Rockridge, California. A house that, in the same auspicious week Obama won the Presidency, earned the title of Greenest House In The World. “For about 2 seconds,” says eco-visionary David Gottfried. He’s modest, and mindful that scores of homes are soon to follow the green trail they’ve blazed. David lives in the house with his wife Sara, and their beautiful girls Gemma and Maya. It’s a far cry from the sprawling flat Sara and I shared in med school, where the greenest thing was the Thai chicken curry we’d sometimes make to calm examination-eve nerves.
My friends’ goals for their renovation were simple, if characteristically ambitious. “We hoped to showcase how to green an old historic home and still achieve LEED Platinum, as well as downsize 50% for a family of four,” says David, the founder of the U.S. and World Green Building Councils and now CEO of Regenerative Ventures.
Sara’s flair is evident throughout the house: in the soothing hues of non-toxic Mythic paint adorning the walls, the peaceful bronze Buddhas presiding over the mud room, the iridescent abalone tiles studding the bathroom floors—“eco-bling,” as Sara calls it. And it’s David’s genius for green that brings their house within reach of their net-zero energy goal. Solar photovoltaic panels on the roof supply the electricity for their super-efficient Bosch kitchen appliances and elegant lighting throughout the home. The sun also fuels their water heater and stylish hydronic radiators. “Rainhogs” scored from last fall’s Slow Food Nation hoopla in San Francisco collect rainwater to fill the dual-flush toilet in the guest bathroom. Greywater from the sinks and shower is funneled to the native-species garden and raised vegetable bed outside.
A customer goes into a wine shop to get the latest vintage of his favorite wine. Last year he drank a case of the dynamic and pure 2006 Domaine X and got hooked. So when he gets that call from his wine salesman that the 2007 vintage is in, he rushes in to buy another case. That night, with his lovely leg of lamb, he opens a bottle of the 2007 Domaine X. His first reaction is that there is something wrong with the wine. It barely has any fruit; the acid is high-toned and is sticking out on his palate. There is a mass of tannin and the finish is acrid. The food makes it more palatable, but all in all, it is a disappointment. The customer has lost faith in the wine merchant and will never buy from him again. He is actually considering returning the case.
Bob Cannard, who has been providing Chez Pannise with vegetables for the past 25 years and who is the vineyard manager for Cline Cellars in Sonoma, brews huge vats of compost tea. Instead of making a rich and delicious stock for human consumption, he makes a nutritious vegetable stock for his farm and vineyards. He also spreads finely ground minerals, such as silica and limestone, throughout his vineyards depending on the needs of each particular site. 
Not only are wines being made in Idaho, they’re being made organically as well. I spoke with Gary Cunningham who, along with his wife Martha, own and operate 3 Horse Ranch Vineyards.
