Taking a sommelier class is no guarantee of a job in the wine industry. You can’t even write it off on your taxes. This past January I completed the 24 week Viticulture and Vinification Program with the American Sommelier Association and the only certainty is people will ask me the same questions over and over.
“What does that mean? Are you a sommelier now? What’s your new job?”
Nothing and no. I’m still working as a part-time server.
“What does that do for you exactly?”
I’m full of fun factoids about Galestro soil and the Mistral winds.
“I’m serving paella for dinner. What should I pair with it?”
Are you cooking it? Alka Seltzer.
I’m typically more polite in person, though I must constantly explain that one class doesn’t make me familiar with every wine ever made, or even the one you had with dinner with last night. I know people are trying to be nice and are just generally curious. But, in our result-driven society, many seem unable to grasp this concept: how this course will affect my future is yet to be determined.
Like many things in life, you get out of it what you put in. I personally loved all 24 of the weeks I spent reading about history, soil, climate and varietals. I liked memorizing, making flashcards, stressing and the anxiety of the weekly exams. I went to Catholic prep school; I live for that kind of thing. I also live for organization and foundation, two other things you will get from this course. Sure you could sit at home and learn all the same information, if you’ve got that kind of discipline. I don’t.
There is a benefit to learning in a group setting. Call me Obama, but open forums of discussion with different points of view are a great place to come to conclusions and learn new things. This is coupled with the opportunity to meet some pretty spectacular people. Two of the best classes were lectures on Spanish wine given by Ms. Kerin Auth of Tempranillo. She provided maps, pictures, and first-hand accounts from her travels and work there.
I walked out of her classes, and the entire program, wanting more in the best way possible. Having completed the course, even so recently, I find myself in a mild state of panic. How can I retain all of what I worked so hard to learn and continue to build on that? My challenge is to parlay my passion into a career that will provide these things. I enjoy my part-time job as a server, but yearn for more challenging work and a more engaging wine program. Having also performed the duties of manager, maitre’d and host perhaps this is the time to move onto sommelier. Even with the sad state of the economy and the rising unemployment rate, I still feel hopeful that things will work out for me. Grapes will still grow, winemakers will make wine, and we will all continue to drink. Somewhere in that cycle there is surely a place for me to earn my keep.
Mark Beaman of Paul Dolan Vineyards goes over the biodynamic cow horn preperation. This series of videos is brought to us by Deborah Gavito of Counter Restaurant.
Growing into adulthood means accepting life’s bitter aspects. This is true for everything from love to the weather. But in the world of food and drink, it’s a literal transition. As human beings grow older, their palates change. They leave behind the sweet tastes of youth and learn to appreciate the subtler pleasures of bitterness.
What do kids like to eat? Chocolate pudding, Pixie Stix, Laffy Taffy and Cap’n Crunch. I used to eat full tablespoons of cake frosting while my mother looked on in horror.
But now? Hot black espresso, please. Campari cocktails and tonic water. Black Moroccan olives and lemon zest. Gravlax, broccoli rabe and crunchy green salads full of rocket and escarole. We revel in the hop tang of lager beers, the bittersweet bite of dark Swiss chocolate. And when we come back to those luridly sweet candies of our youth, we smile at their familiarity, but most of us just can’t choke them down the way we used to.
As one’s adult tastes evolve toward bitterness, what is the adult beverage to accompany such fare? One answer, bred from my successful experimentation, is to match bitter foods with bitter wines. I do not mean wine with an unpleasant bite that spoils things. Bad wine is bad wine, no matter what you’re eating. But certain wines have what the critics call a “pleasing astringency.” It is a euphemistic phrase, like “military consultants” and “pre-owned automobiles.” What it means in relation to wine is a certain textural snap in the finish, often from a combination of acidity and grape-skin tannin, that enlivens the palate and refreshes the taster after each sip. Think of apples with their skins on, or candied orange peels. It’s bitterness, yes-tamed in part by other aspects of a wine. An occasional quality in reds, it occurs more frequently in whites.
If you want to know what I’m talking about, try a bottle of Verdicchio. The Verdicchio grape grows in the Marches region of eastern Italy, primarily in the towns of Castelli di Jesi on the Adriatic coast and Matelica further in from shore. With its dry taste and citrusy acids, it constitutes the local seafood white, one of dozens of such wines indigenous to Italy. Indeed, it would normally rate just a passing mention in most wine scribblings-but for one thing. A crazy, nose-tingling aroma of licorice invades the wine; a high-toned, almost medicinal quality. In strong, old versions from Matelica, it tastes like a shot of absinthe; in light versions (those kitschy, fish-shaped bottles on package-store shelves), it’s more delicately vegetal, like anise or fresh fennel. Call it what you will, but it is there, belligerent and ineffable, and as it runs the gauntlet of the wine’s natural acidity at the finish, it turns persistently bitter. What tames such a wine?
Saltwater fish is the classic match with it; but the pairings get really interesting with bitter greens like amaranth, mustard, and broccoli rabe or (not surprisingly) dishes involving anise and fennel. The edge of the wine collides with the bite of the vegetables in such a way that both are enhanced, leaving the taster a little thirstier and a little hungrier than before. Seafood risotto with braised radicchio is marvelous with it. Throw in some sweet sausage for contrast, and you’ve achieved a sensational, regional food-wine experience. Organic labels of Verdicchio include Villa Bucci, Colle Stefano, and Cantine Bellisario. Sartarelli, grown sustainably, is more readily available.
Other white wines deliver a modest measure of the so-called “pleasing astringency” that works so well with bitter or aggressively herbal foods. Italian examples include Vermentino, Vernaccia and the Sauvignon Blancs of the northern regions. Muscadet from the Loire has it, and many lighter-styled Gruner Veltliners from Austria. Shellfish with a drop of Pernod or white fin-fish with lots of fresh parsley work wonderfully with these. If you can find a bone-dry Elbling from Germany or a Gros Plant from the Nantais, you are in for some masochistic enjoyment.
In reds, tannin provides the sensation of bitterness, particularly tannin coupled with an acidic structure to propel it. Reds that nip at you nicely are led by Cabernet Franc, the herbaceous red wine of Chinon, Bourgueil and Saumur, again in the Loire. Organic versions seem to outnumber conventional ones in the American market these days-you can practically close your eyes and point. There’s also a cluster of light red wines valued for their astringency in northern Italy, including Bardolino, Refosco, dry Marzemino and sparkling Lambrusco, which work perfectly with the salty, savory salumi and olives of the sub-Alpine provinces. Or if you want a BIG red with bite, look for Sagrantino, officially the most naturally tannic red wine in the world. Paolo Bea’s is legendary, but Di Filippo is a fine organic contender for half the price. Grilled lamb with a black olive tapenade would be miraculous with this vinous monster from Umbria. Also try the ancient ink-dark wine of Madiran, made from Tannat and Cabernet, a combination of ferrous minerality and jet black fruit encased in tannins. Sound scary? Pour it with char-broiled meat and a side of Brussels sprouts (notoriously bitter) and become a convert.
A great fortified wine with bitterness is fino sherry from Spain. Endlessly versatile, fantastically refreshing, and priced far below what it should be, it masters any and all bitter foods you throw at it, including the nuts and olives with which it is traditionally served. My search for organic sherry didn’t yield much, but Bodegas Robles in nearby Montilla-Moriles makes a fine organic fino from Pedro Ximenez grapes.
The world’s most famous and expensive astringent wine? Champagne of course. Its low sugar and high acidity scratches at your palate, while those prickly little bubbles snap at you like a jealous lover. Low dosage bottlings-those with less sugar added than conventional, mass-market brands-are especially useful for the two briniest foods associated with them: caviar and oysters. Also a hit are raw vegetables with a bitter edge like radishes and celery. A dash of salt marries them to the wine seamlessly. My father enjoys Champagne at the holidays with a crudité of raw fennel stalks spread with dollops of chopped liver. It’s a strange combination of bitterness and fat-but it works.
Ehlers Estate is pleased to announce the appointment of Kevin Morrisey to the position of winemaker and general manager. Morrisey comes to Ehlers Estate from the acclaimed Stags’ Leap Winery where he was the winemaker and general manager since the spring of 2005.
A graduate of the Master’s program in Enology at the University of California, Davis, Morrisey brings with him a reputation for making complex, structured, and balanced wines that express terroir. With dual French/American citizenship, Morrisey took an internship in Pomerol working for legendary winemaker Jean-Claude Berrouet at Château Pétrus. Shortly after his return to the United States, Morrisey joined the team at Stags’ Leap Winery, where he rapidly advanced from enologist to assistant winemaker to associate winemaker. In 2003, Tony Soter, the renowned founder of Etude Wines, hired Morrisey to work alongside him as winemaker and director of operations. In 2005, when Winemaker Robert Brittan left Stags’ Leap, Morrisey was asked back to oversee all aspects of winemaking and operations for the historic Napa Valley estate.
“Kevin is a gifted winemaker, who has learned his craft from mentors on two continents,” says Mark Larson, Ehlers Estate’s chief executive officer. “His approach to winemaking is an extension of his connection to the land and his passion for winegrowing. Kevin believes in creating site-specific, terroir-driven wines—which is at the core of our winemaking philosophy here at Ehlers Estate.” Larson added that, in addition to overseeing winemaking at Ehlers and guiding the winery’s estate wines program, Kevin will apply his extensive leadership skills as general manager of the company.
“Being a part of the small, dedicated team at Ehlers Estate is something I am very excited about,” says Morrisey. “This is a classic, proven, Cabernet terroir that is being meticulously farmed. The wines are made at a century-old winery with a rich history, and there is a passion and an intimacy to the approach that I find very inspiring. Ehlers has a great and truly unique mission. Like the Napa Valley, Ehlers Estate has a lot of heart.”
Ehlers Estate combines a historic winegrowing estate, environmental consciousness and international philanthropy. The winery’s diverse Napa Valley vineyard, which is biodynamically farmed and organically certified, is cultivated as a mosaic of 32 small vineyard blocks to produce exceptional estate-grown Bordeaux-varietal wines. All proceeds from the sale of these wines fund international cardiovascular research through the esteemed Leducq Foundation.
A major debate in the organic and biodynamic wine world is how wines should be displayed in retail stores. Some prefer a separate section, while others loathe the idea of winding up in the “organic ghetto.” Many winemakers feel if they make a Bordeaux wine they should be in the Bordeaux section, and not relegated to some bottom-shelf of a back corner. Adding to the problem are the number of wineries that practice organic/biodynamic/natural methods but do not get certification and, more confusingly, the wineries that are certified but don’t put it on the label.
I recently taught a class at Astor Wines in New York City, and was impressed with the way their store approaches this problem. They take a three-step approach which combines the best of all worlds:
The wines are displayed with all the others from the same region/country, but have a green shelf label describing the practices.
They have a separate and impressive “organic section” that displays a number of these same wines as a group.
There is a cool room, kept at a constant 57 degrees, where more delicate wines are stored.
Not every store has the size and budget of Astor Wines to do all three, but any place can take the first step and consider the other two if money and space allow. I spoke with Lorena Ascencios, the Wine Buyer for Astor, about their system.
When did Astor start putting green shelf labels for organic/biodynamic/natural wines around the store?
Since we moved to our new location about three years ago. I wanted it to be educational, but first and foremost I love these wines and wanted to promote them. The timing couldn’t be better in terms of where people’s minds are now and all the press surrounding organics.
How do you choose which wines go into the “organic section?”
All of our wines are out on the main floor. We’re lucky to have the space to have duplicate content. This way people who are specifically looking for it can go straight there. We have highlights from around the store as well as a selection at different price points.
What percentage of your wines fall into the green category?
I guess 20%. We don’t have a goal. We’re a business and our top concern is always the quality of the wine and pricing. If I’m tasting wines that are great, and on top of that they’re also organic, I’m thrilled.
How has the reaction from customers been?
Very positive. Based on their interest I can show them to the organic section, or just tell them the green labels are throughout the store. We’re large enough to have the best of both worlds.
Anything negative?
Some customers question how we know the methods if it’s not on the label. We have to explain about different countries having different regulations, how some have been organic for centuries, etc. One thing we are careful about, though, is promoting the wines for being great. Methods aren’t always meaningful to people. They want quality wine, and practices may be second or third on the list.
Since not everything is on the label, how do you do your research?
I rely a lot on my reps. Once they get to know me they learn this information is important for me so they find out. I also go online and research there.
Thanks to Robert Parker, Hollywood and some dude named Kendall Jackson, Chardonnay has gotten a bad rap over the years. It’s been over-planted, over-hyped, overpriced and truly underwhelming when produced in the United States. In the wrong hands it can taste like sugary grape juice with some toast stuck in, with aromas of an extinguished old match. But grown in the right conditions, in the right place, it can make some of the finest white wines in the world, showing an incredible amount of expressiveness and balance. So, as a certified Sommelier and someone who truly appreciates every and all wine, I was pleasantly surprised to be drinking a biodynamic chardonnay on a cold winter night in January, and actually enjoying it.
This happy meeting of fermented grape juice with my mouth took place at Counter Restaurant on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Deborah Gavito, the owner of Counter, has done an amazing job sourcing over 300 producers for her all organic, biodynamic, and sustainable wine list. The wines represent a commitment to bringing quality wines with a conscience to her customers and, for the most part, they pair extremely well with her “vegetarian bistro” fare. Lyle Fass, contributor to Organic Wine Journal, picked the Chateau des Rontets exclaiming “I really didn’t think I would be drinking Chardonnay tonight, but this is too good to pass up.” He was right.
My first impression with this pale yellow wine was the nose. What little oak it had was lost in the great aromatics of pineapple, citrus, and honey. Then there was this other note that I just couldn’t describe. It was extremely unique. But like any professional wine drinker, er… taster, I pressed on. What struck me was how bright, balanced and full this wine tasted. The oak was, again, almost nonexistent, but for a wine that tasted as though aged in stainless steel there was a real mouth-filling roundness. But, like any good wine, this was balanced by a perfect amount of acidity which kept it tasting fresh and aromatic. As I discussed the wine with my fellow diners, it struck me what I had been smelling… French toast.
Maybe it was my sub-conscious telling me to drink more Puilly-Fuisse, but I swear there was this unmistakable aroma of French toast. Not just French toast made with good old American Wonder Bread. I’m talking brioche French toast. When I mentioned this to Lyle, he said what I was smelling was the terrior of Puilly-Fuisse in Burgundy. Another explanation is that as the wine warmed up the aromas of honey, pineapple and yeast mixed together, giving me the sensation that I was back in my youth in Burgundy enjoying my Grandmother’s Sunday breakfast at the Chateau. All right, I made that last part up. I’m from New Jersey and the closest thing to brioche I ever got was the Challah my mom baked once a year for Rosh Hashana. That’s how good the wine was, though.
In fairness to this wonderful grape, I had an epiphany that I need to give Chardonnay more of a chance by seeking out small organic/biodynamic producers who let its true character and surroundings show through. There is a reason that some of the finest whites in the world come from Burgundy, and terrior has much to do with that. There is also a reason that people drink Yellow Tail Chardonnay, and that it only costs $6.99, but right now I can’t think of it.
Thanks to Robert Parker, Hollywood and some dude named Kendall Jackson, Chardonnay has gotten a bad rap over the years. It’s been over-planted, over-hyped, overpriced and truly underwhelming when produced in the United States. In the wrong hands it can taste like sugary grape juice with some toast stuck in, with aromas of an extinguished old match. But grown in the right conditions, in the right place, it can make some of the finest white wines in the world, showing an incredible amount of expressiveness and balance. So, as a certified Sommelier and someone who truly appreciates every and all wine, I was pleasantly surprised to be drinking a biodynamic chardonnay on a cold winter night in January, and actually enjoying it.
