Burgundy dinner 25.06.10

These are notes I took earlier this year at a Burgundy dinner in the Vintner’s Rooms, Edinburgh. Looking back, it seems that notes of tea and coffee made more consistent appearances than the famous Burgundian farmyard smells. The Fremiets is showing especially well now, and after the dinner we acquired 3 bottles for early consumption, but coming from a mediocre vintage, we wouldn’t expect it to have a distinguished long-term cellar life. The Clos St.Jacques is a beautiful and powerful creation with a potentially long cellar life ahead.  

WHITE

Corton Charlemagne Grand Cru Rapet 2004

This seems rather closed, rather too young, and I am also surprised by how unoaky it is. I can’t perceive it as doing much more than sweet pea, with a slight woodiness emerging in cream. Clearly a fine wine in waiting, I think a few more years in the cellar may be in order for this one.

Drouhin Meursault Perrières Premier Cru 2002

A much darker gold hue than the Rapet indicates a longer stay in oak, which very much comes across on the bouquet as well. Altogether it offers a rather riotous nose, and I struggle for comparators, going through glühwein and spiced pears before settling on cinnamon and Malvern pudding.

RED

Hudelot Noellat Clos de Vougeot 1983

Burnt rubber and strawberries quickly give way to violets wrapped in parma ham, then pencil shavings emerge, before being substituted by prunes and old age. Pinot Noir does not make the longest-lived of all fine wines, and this wine, clearly at the far end of its drinking window, breaks down before us in about 20 minutes.

Les Groiselles 2002 Domaine Digoia-Royer Chambolle-Musigny Premier Cru

A very bright shade of cherry red, this, still looking rather young. Does do a bit of farmyard, a bit of Chinese cooking, but still seems young and ungiving; may have another 10 years to go before it’s really firing on all cylinders.

Les Narbantons 2002 Maurice Ecard Savigny-les-Beaune Premier Cru

This darker wine offers a classically Burgundian stink, rustic and tar driven, a real muddy fields, pheasants in garages wine. Definitely one to go with the stronger pieces of game.

Fremiets 2004 Domaine Jean Boillot Volnay Premier Cru

Quite a startlingly attractive nose on this wine, a very aromatic mix of raspberries and roses. Also quite structured, it develops decisively from the initially aromatic nose to a more meaty (but not gamey) one; cured ham rather than hung grouse. Pinot Noir is typically characterised as making wines that smell of raspberries or strawberries, but I find strawberry a much more common note; this is the only one of tonight’s wines that I can really say smells of raspberry.

Lafarge Clos de Chenes 1994 Volnay Premier Cru

A furious debate rages at table about whether this wine is tannic or tart; I’d say tannic by the standards of the previous reds, with distinct coffee notes.

Les Vaucrains 1993 Chauvenet Nuits St.Georges

Again, I find this wine to be driven by a strong coffee note. The fruit is less prominent, which is not surprising given its age, but it has an attractive earthy, mineral quality.

Les Perrières 1993 Chauvenet Nuits St.Georges

This wine, of the same vintage as the Vaucrains, also proceeds from the neighbouring vineyard. Given that, I’d perhaps expect them to be more similar than they actually are. However, the Perrières has quite a volatile nose, again offering Chinese food, and whereas the Vaucrains was coffee-like, this is much more reminiscent of black tea.

Clos St.Jacques 2002 Sylvie Esmonin Gevrey-Chambertin Premier Cru

A lot of power and concentration is immediately apparent in this wine, both perfumed and earthy (again, rather than gamey as such). Having noticed either tea or coffee qualities in the previous three wines, the Clos St.Jacques noticeably does both. Gives a lot now, but feels like it still has a lot hidden from view.

Opal Fruits! Made to make your mouth water!

Viña Esmeralda 2009, Catalunya, Torres 

“Esmeralda” means “emerald”, but this is a pretty pale yellow, with a green tint, like many a Sauvignon. It’s very fragrant on the nose, an unusual meeting of grapes and grapefruit, with the perfume of roses. It’s quite tart in the palate, with a fair flavour, even as it seems to lack depth or concentration. There’s not much body or length, and it’s very much an up-front experience, even if, after a while, I decide it’s leaving a leafy aftertaste not unlike green tea. 

Actually, I’m surprised by how good it is, for a not much above entry-level wine. I used to drink this as a student, and our happy memories of what then seemed to be lovely wine usually turn out to be very rosé-tinted reflections now betrayed by our more educated palates. Consulting some very fusty tasting notes that were long ago scrubbed off the Edinburgh University Wine Appreciation website, I discover I found the 2000 vintage to veer towards the confected, likening it to candied sugars or Appletise. This leads me to believe that either the 2009 vintage is very good, or simply that it is still very fresh. In fact, when, after 24 hours, I take off the vacuum seal, I discover it has acquired something of a confected character, now smelling of lime Opal Fruits (“made to make your mouth water!”)

It would be (and is, in many a seafood restaurant) a good match for white fish or shellfish, fulfilling more cheaply the function of the often sadly overpriced Albariño. It doesn’t do anything different in the glass, so one glass can feel like enough. On the other hand, the unusual notes do mean that it is said to be one of the few wines that can successfully accompany artichokes. It is also a good example of varietal character. It’s made from 85% Moscatel (whither the unusual grape-like character, an unusual exception to the paradox that wine, while made from grapes, rarely tastes of them) and 15% Gewürtztraminer (whither the classic grapefruit and rose petals).

Plum and rosemary crumble

Gran Recosind Criança (Crianza) 1999 Cellers Santa María

I’ve been drinking a lot of this recently, which I think is a steal at £11 from my favourite wine merchant, Raeburn Fine Wines. It’s a gem from Spain’s DO Ampurdán – Costa Brava (Empordà - Costa Brava in Catalan), up against the French border, where the Pyrenees meet the Med. This area is not known for world-class wines, as opposed to Priorat and Penedés back along the Spanish coast, and being a mass tourism area, it produces its fair share of mediocre rosé sold on easily to the tourist market (hello again, Provence), but this is classically styled Spanish crianza ideal for those of us who like a bit of age on our wines.

The smoothed-out fruit on the bouquet, a mixture of plum and raspberry, immediately gives away the fact that it is an aged wine, and it comes with a whiff of the classic Spanish-beloved American oak vanilla. On the palate, the tannins are smooth, and it has the feel of a mellow wine not destined to be cellared much longer. N1 insists it tastes strongly of rosemary, and we compromise on plum and rosemary crumble.

I could believe this was Rioja (the soft, plummy fruit and that American-style vanilla are classic Rioja characteristics), and it is a surprise to discover there is no Tempranillo in it. In fact, it’s a blend of 80% Cariñena (that’s Carignan to the French, but it is actually believed to have originated in the Spanish province of Navarra) and 20% Garnacha (that’s Grenache to the French, but it is believed to have originated in the Spanish province of Aragón). You can find Garnacha in Rioja, but not Cariñena, which is too busy making the rosé for the tourists.

Toujours at the rosé factory

Provence Masterclass, Edinburgh, 6.10.10

I’ve never been at a tasting with seven different rosé wines before, and I confess to being no great fan of the stuff. I have heard rumours that there are rosé wines that mature and show development – I have been told on good authority that the Château Musar Rosé is one such – but have yet to taste any myself. Since 78% of the wine produced in Provence is rosé, it only seems appropriate that it formed the backbone of this tasting. However, it has not much improved my opinion of the stuff, even if a couple of the rosés we tasted were above the calibre of those that thoughtlessly appear at summer barbecues; it just doesn’t seem to be a style of wine capable of rising beyond a certain, fairly low level. What was more of a surprise were some unexpectedly attractive reds; I’m sure it wasn’t just relief at finally getting beyond the torrent of rosé. Still, all kudos to Rose (no relation to the wine) Murray Brown for putting together a tasting that gave us a good sense of what the region has to offer. Hitherto, it seems, the vignerons of Provence have found a ready market in a relatively undemanding tourist trade, and so have grown lazy; but there are welcome signs that may be beginning to change.

WHITE

AC Cru Classé, Côtes de Provence, Rimauresque Blanc 2009

With pear drops and green leaf on the nose, I couldn’t guess what grape variety this was made from. In any case, it didn’t seem to be very good, bringing back memories of pub wine, with a lemony, slightly soapy palate. I speculated it might be either Sauvignon Blanc or Chenin Blanc, but in fact it 90% Rolle / 10% Ugni Blanc. Rolle is the same as Vermentino, a rather promising variety, while Ugni Blanc is the same as Trebbiano, a not very promising variety. (Italian varieties are prevalent in Provence thanks to the not-so-far-away influence of Sardinia.) I would have expected something better from a Cru Classé, but that may not mean too much in terms of Provençal white wine – I couldn’t get past the olfactory association of pub wine.

AC Cassis, Clos Sainte Magdeleine 2008

Cassis is a small appellation around the port of the same name, not so far from Marseille. The typical local wine is supposed to be a herby white ideal for accompanying the local Bouillabaisse soup. This wine, blended from Marsanne, Clairette and Ugni Blanc, is said to be a good example of the style, although I struggled to pick up any of those apparently typical herby notes. The bouquet is creamy with the faintest, questionable hint of oak aging – I never learned if it had actually spent time in barrel. The palate is light, pleasant, and peachy, if also short and rather simple. I was unimpressed to learn it retails in the UK at £16.75, considering what else one could find for the same money – although these days £17 stretches considerably less than it used to in wine, as in everything. Still, given that white wines make up only 4% of the wine produced in Provence, perhaps we are lucky to be tasting any whites at all; and those that are there can command a premium for rarity. It’s a shame I can’t summon more enthusiasm for this wine, as the photos on the website make the estate and the area look gorgeous, and now they probably aren’t going to invite me.

http://www.clossaintemagdeleine.fr/

ROSÉ

AC Coteaux Varois en Provence, Château D’Ollieres Rosé 2009

Bit of a blank, this wine; I could detect almost nothing on the nose. The palate was similarly void, lighter than most whites, with just a slight tannic tang. At least it wasn’t offensive in any way, and it gave me a new appreciation of the two whites. Clearly one for fresh, thoughtless drinking.

AC Coteaux D’Aix-en-Provence, Les Quatre Tours “Signature” Rosé 2009

At least there is something showing up on the nose here: peach melba yoghurt, which I would always expect to be a white wine note. On the palate, it is short, simple, relatively sweet and swiftly forgettable. The word “signature” in the name was always going to be a bad sign.

AC Côtes de Provence, St.Tropez Cuvée Carte Noir 2009 Les Maîtres Vignerons de St.Tropez

This has a little more bouquet and a little more body. It smells of a mixture of grapes (a strangely unusual tasting note in wine), dilute blackcurrant juice and coconut. With a little more going on in it than the previous two rosés, I wouldn’t object to a glass of this at the proverbial picnic on the terrace. This wine comes from one of France’s sunniest spots, and the long sunlight may have brought the fruit out, giving it that extra bit of flavour for the same runoff of juice.

AC Côtes de Provence, Sainte Marguerite Rosé 2009

A lovely colour, this wine; while the previous two rosés have been an identical shade of salmon pink, this is tinted more like onion-skin orange; beautiful. But not much flavour to boast of; there is a tiny touch of pepper (that, I guess, will be the Grenache in this Grenache / Cinsault / Mourvedre blend) in some white-wine-style citrus. Not very exciting. From another coastal estate near La Londe les Maures.

AC Côtes de Provence, Domaine Sainte Lucie “Made in Provence” Rosé 2009

From the same AC as the St.Tropez and the Sainte Marguerite, but this time from deep inland in the Sainte-Victoire mountain area, the influence of a cooler climate is very noticeable in that it is much lighter-bodied. It is quite fresh on the nose, with an attractive note falling between grapefruit and orange. Definitely a cut up, a pleasure to sip, and £1.50 cheaper than the Sainte Marguerite.

AC Côtes de Provence, Château Coussin Sainte Victoire Rosé 2009

Another wine from the Sainte-Victoire mountains, this is more of a grey-salmon colour. Sometimes the best thing about rosé wines are the attractive shades they can assume, although this is also the most enjoyable of the evening’s rosés. What is most obvious on the nose here is that it has had a small amount of oak aging, and comes across as almost Chardonnay-like, although with added white pepper.

AC Côtes de Provence, Château Miraval “Pink Floyd” Rosé 2009

Apparently Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” was recorded at this Château, hence the name – I suppose we cannot begrudge them a connection with a rosé wine. This one has a more intense reddish colour than any of the previous rosés. The nose is very clearly strawberry. It is fuller-bodied than any of the previous rosés, although I really preferred the zing in the Coussin Sainte Victoire.

RED

AC Côtes de Provence, Château Rimauresque Rouge 2006

A dark but not entirely opaque wine, the nose is a pleasant mix of cumin, jam, and smoke. Not very tannic, it is quite fresh and immediately drinkable, probably without any cellar potential, but pleasant at the moment. A picnic alternative for those who don’t want the rosé.

AC Bandol, Domaine de la Tour du Bon 2006

Notes of parma ham, leather and lavender, together with a little dust from the oak on the palate. Tannin and acid in moderation in a wine that is moderate rather than huge, but has attractive flavours. Although this does come from a very hot coastal area, the fruit is not baked (more jellied). Made from what one might call a French country blend of 55% Mourvedre, 25% Grenache, 15% Cinsault and 5% Carignan. Very pleasant.

AC Bandol, Château de Pibarnon 2004

A very similar shade as the Domaine de la Tour du Bon, only going pale at the rim with age. The fruits on the bouquet are more dried than jellied here, mixed in with some herbal backnotes. Still fairly tannic despite the age, so it ought to be aereated before serving. It’d be lovely with veal or venison. This is made from 90% Mourvedre / 10% Grenache.

Coteaux des Baux de Provence, Domaine de Trevallon Rouge 2000

Rather a grand wine (with a bit of age on it) to end the evening. It has a well-mixed bouquet of cherry tunes and beetroot; given a bit of time, wet slate and mushrooms emerge. Concentrated but with very smooth tannins, this goes down a treat now, but would not object to more aging.

Italian Wine Dinner at Martin Wishart’s

This dinner was hosted on Monday 27.09 at one of Edinburgh’s one (aspiring to two) Michelin-starred restaurants, Martin Wishart. Zubair of Raeburn Fine Wines supplied and introduced the wines, and it was these, and not the food, which really drove a fascinating evening. The restaurant sometimes seemed to be struggling with the number of covers all getting the same dish at the same time, and the re-pours of the wines for some diners seemed frankly arbitrary (which is to say, I never got any). The service at some of the finer restaurants can seem trapped between the Scylla of stilted formality and Charybdis of false bonhomie, but at least at Martin Wishart the formality is unobtrusive and the bonhomie not too forced. 

Prosecco di Valdobbiadine, Casa Coste Piane, Santo Stefano

Prosecco is Italy’s answer to cava, a light, simple sparkling wine, made in the Veneto. This rather cloudy prosecco is superior by prosecco standards – there is a touch of champagne breadiness to the bouquet and, as it opens out, a gently buttery note joins the green fruit. It is very dry for a kind of wine I would more usually associate with slack sweetness. The cloudiness comes about as it is fermented in bottle and left on its lees. Coming from 100 year-old vines, it must be one of the more distinguished expressions of prosecco available – however, at £11.99 a bottle, it’s not much more expensive than rather more ordinary prosecco.   

The prosecco was accompanying the amuse bouches. For once, I can thank my allergy to crustaceans; instead of crab marie rose, I was given a beetroot macaroon with horseradish in the middle; it looked like a tiny purple hamburger, and was quite lovely. There was also a little slab of pastry, cheese and olive (gruyere en croûte) and a delicious, gooey, tiny deep-fried slab of pig’s trotter on toast.

2003 Solea DOC, Azienda Agricola Roagna, Barolo, Piedmont

This is a wine that confused me – white Barolo. It was the unusual deep orange, almost rosé hue that first alerted me that something strange was up. Although Barolo is a village and not a grape variety, I’d always understood that it only produced red wines from the Nebbiolo grape variety. That turns out to be half right; this wine is made from 80% Blanc de Nebbiolo, that is, the juice of the grapes but not the skins, where the colour and tannins reside, and 20% Chardonnay. The nose is also very unusual. It starts off without any obvious fruit quality, instead reminding me of liqourice and corn flakes. Nor is there any oak taste per se, although it does have a texture I associate with oak-aged wines. It turns out to have spent an amazing five years in oak barrels, hence the deep colour; however, all old barrels, hence the lack of oak flavour. What is most surprising of all is the way it develops, covering a much further distance than most wines do over an evening; it becomes gravelly and dusty (that oak again) and with time, develops an orange note that reminds me intensely of Puligny-Montrachet. By the end of the evening, it tastes like I have a glass of white Burgundy. 

The Roagna was set against smoked Shetland salmon. Wishart’s smoke their own salmon, and I have to admit it was extremely good. It came with a fine foam of konbu vinegar supplying an idiosyncratically Japanese taste, and a sweet and vinegary soused pickle, which was frankly too strong both for the salmon and the wine. 

2009 Contadino Rosso IGT, Frank Cornelissen, Solicchiata, Etna

Turkish Delight in a compost heap, cloves in rotten fruit? On a slightly more prosaic note, cherries are the most accurate fruit comparison to the bouquet, but this fine wine offers up some intriguing notes. Sicily is said to be home to some of Italy’s most extraordinary wines, and this is certainly unusual. Coming from vineyards that never had to be re-grafted as a defence against phylloxera (the bug never quite made it to this very arid area), it is made from old vines of obscure local varieties, most importantly Nerello Mascalese. I find it remarkable that such a young wine can taste so like a well-aged one. It has been produced according to strict organic principles, and I suppose the lack of oak aging probably allows it seem smoothly older than it is. The palate is as unusual as the bouquet, and we come up with cabbage toothpaste and a passing note of rosewater. Letting it hang around in the glass for a while, it passes through a Darjeeling tea phase, then a powerful note of lead pencil, and ends up reminding me of black pepper in balsamic vinegar, which we like on strawberries. I was fascinated by this wine, though D.L. thought it was well-made but simple, and L.S. (among others in the room, I think) found it downright distasteful.

I was enjoying the wine so much I paid less attention than I might have to the roast monkfish and red wine risotto accompanying it (at this dinner, the food accompanied the wine, not vice versa). Still, it went well enough, monkfish being a stronger white fish, and the wine being light for a red. The risotto was very tasty, although a little underdone.

1998 Barolo Brunate, Poderi Marcarini, La Morra, Piedmont

Rather more classic wine territory now, provoking sighs of relief from some people. What I found really striking was the move from a very young wine that seemed already aged to perfection to a much older wine that still feels young, and which I would want to cellar rather than drink now. It comes from one of the “Grand Cru” terroirs of Barolo, Brunate, and it is a powerful, structured wine. It is fleshy, fruity (dark fruits), creamy and tannic, smelling of tar and violets, with two years of oak aging that show though. The fact that it doesn’t go through a gamut of transformations over the evening as the previous wine did underlines the fact that it probably isn’t at its best yet.

Barolo hits at much the same sort of food area as red Burgundy, and this went perfectly with the roast (but quite rare) grouse.

2005 “Ka!” Passito IGT, Viticoltori de Conciliis, Prignano Cilento, Campania

Chocolate, vanilla, and walnut dessert whip were all tasting notes I toyed with for this sweet wine until, along I think with the whole table, settling on salted caramel. Most unusually for a sweet wine, it seemed to have virtually no fruit character at all, but eventually I found a little lychee in with the chocolate sauce. Lovely, in any case, not too sweet, with a good measure of acid to balance against the sugar. It’s made from classis sweet grapes, a blend of Moscato (Italian Muscat) and Malvasia. You wouldn’t want it beside a slab of chocolate ice cream, but it’s ideal with the pastry dish Wishart’s have for us.

Dessert is tarte aux pomme with a glob of caramel ice cream. The tarte seems just a little tired, as the pastry was clearly made earlier, although as D.L. remarked, it’s all a question of perspective; if it turned up at his canteen at work, he would certainly go for seconds. 

The petit fours that come with coffee are fun. There is a delicious rubbery lemon bubble that bursts in the mouth releasing lemon cream. We first encountered these sort of bubbles two years ago in Spain at Arzak (black olive filled with olive liquid) and, even better, Martín Berasategui (squid filled with squid ink – how they managed to seal up the squid ball I don’t know). Then there’s a capuchin hat of biscuit, black chocolate and white chocolate, a boiled sweet that is clearly made out of strawberry jam, and a chocolate and pistachio macaroon that once again looks like a tiny hamburger. It’s these sorts of culinary odds and ends, not the main courses, where restaurants really get to show off their creativity, which is why tasting menus can work so well.