by Julian Schultz
julian@oxfordwineroom.com
Dick and Joan Caparso said they needed to liven up our staid, genteel, black-tie, seventh annual by-invitation December wine dinner at the gourmet Castle Restaurant, where 24 of us with deadly serious miens and deeply furrowed brows consumed five food courses and analyzed 18 wines; the latter comprised 16 wines: eight French Burgundies and eight American from the West Coast, and two blind-bagged surprises.
The theme of the tasting: A comparison of Burgundy Pinot Noirs and Chardonnays to their American West Coast counterparts. I will paraphrase something appropriate that I recently read: "You may have read or heard about discussions and arguments about whether pinot noir and chardonnay wines made in America are better or worse than those made in France. Neither is better or worse but simply different.
"The assumption that wines made from the same varietal should taste the same, or that one is better than another, is misguided. Why? Answer: The difference in terroir: environment of climate, soil, weather, vineyard lie, age of vines, agricultural and winemaking techniques make it virtually impossible to produce the same taste among the same varietal wines...even among the French winemakers themselves; the same is true among American winemakers.
"Stylistically, Burgundy has a broader complexity and a slightly higher "minerality"and acidity; California's usually can drink well earlier, followed by those of Oregon and then Burgundy."
But decide for yourself the style you like best by tasting some from each region. If you are like me, you will like them all, but will prefer one or the other with different foods.
The dinner:
No surprise were the 18 sparkling clear wine glasses and the glowing red/green/silver colorful table, lavishly decorated by Dick's wife Joan and his sister, Marie Limoges.
No surprise was the Castle's smooth and efficient maitre d' and regionally recognized Master Sommelier, Jim Nicas, who again expertly perfected one-ounce pours to the 24 Caparso guests without losing a drop.
No surprise was Grand Master Chef Stanley Nicas' culinary jewels from his kitchen that perfectly matched each flight of four wines, plus the two blind-bagged surprise wines.
Surprise, however, was my dinner partner, Gorgo the Gorgonzola, whose bulk and height dwarfed the table. That, as some say, was do-able with. But when he announced himself to the guests, I wasn't so sure: "Aam a rassla!" he said. "An' I hol' da champeenship in da Fedyrayshin of Funny Phony Mayhem Artists."
"So why are you here - at a gourmet, black-tie wine dinner?" I asked nonplused, as I sipped on my Dehlinger 'Russian River' Chardonnay 2001, an absolutely stunning California wine of nationwide prestigious reputation. Its crisp multi-flavors bathed the mouth, reluctant to leave; its proper fruit/fruit acids balance, smooth swallow and long lingering aftertaste raised a hum of admiration among the guests at the 2 parallel, 12-places-each rectangular tables.
"Ta ansa ya questshin, Joolyen" he said, looking at my table place card, "Aam hea 'cuze Dick Capaaso tell me ta protec' ya if dat docta Bob Omlet try ta beat up on ya like he sometime do, Dick say. An' ef he do, den he gets me famous whirly-bird body slam dat make his teet rattle...Where is he hea?" he asked, his eyes searching, his visage vehement.
I pointed out Bob, and the good doctor and my close friend blanched when he noted Gorgo was giving him evil looks with laser eyes. I assured Gorgo, however, that the good doctor Bob doesn't beat up on me. True, we may disagree, I said; I always in an apologetic voice because he has the best wine palate in the region; he sometimes scoffs me rebuttal.
"So, anyway, what's with the cheesy Gorgonzola moniker?" I asked.
"Hey, didn' ya neva seen me rassle?" he asked indignantly. "En my conna, w'en aam waitin fa da udda fat slob rassla ta show up, aam grindin' on Gorgonzola an' sippin' suds. An' afta I moida da bum wit' a body bustin' slam and stompin' on his fat belly, aah finishes me Gorg and brewski in my conna."
He grunted, pleased with the tender, tasty, moist, sauteed swordfish medallions in an orange wine sauce, surrounded by juicy clementine sections. The swordfish - not typically dry thanks to Stanley's culinary skill -- was palate pleasingly compatible with the chardonnay. He asked Jim for seconds; Jim "didn't hear" him, too frightened to refuse him.
"Gee," I said, "I thought you were supposed to bound across the ring and congratulate your fallen foe."
"W'at! Me bounce ova ta da slob!" he exclaimed incredulously. "Ad 360, I don' bayly make id ta his conna ta trow a chunk a Gorg ad him. Dat's me shtick, da cheese; Aah even trow chunks ad da referee an' ad da lousy booers ad da ringside."
"Well, I must admit," I said, "the cheese shtick is a novelty. I've seen wrestlers enter the ring dressed in mink trunks, in gold lamé leotards, in tiger skin and lion skins, in ballet dancers' tutus - really in all divers costumes."
"Geeze, aah ain' neva seen a gazook dressed like a deep sea divas." He described his latest match: "a pussy, paintid wit' roudge an' lipstick, who tippytoes aroun' d' ring trowin' kisses wit' his two han's."
He raised his clasped hands over his head in triumph: "Aah slam da poor bastid so haad ta da canvas da'd his store choppas jump oud, so he coundn' even bite da cheese."
He sipped his Olivier LeFlaive St. Aubin "En Remilly" chardonnay '00, from Burgundy, loudly smacking his lips. "Hey, dis sissy stuff ain' so bad. Ahh tink I maybe ask me main squeeze, Lustylips Lulu, ta buy me some."
He poked me so enthusiastically in the rib cage that I thought he broke it: "An' me Lulu is vavava voom, ef ya get me meanin'! godda fulla uppa body an' a rounda lowa finish."
I had heard enough. I asked him, "Please tell me, are you comfortable here among us oenophiles at this gourmet wine dinner with everyone - reserved gentlemen and svelte ladies - formally dressed to the nines, who are serious sniffers and sippers?"
"Hey, man, I don' do no cocaine!" he protested. "W'at's wit' da' sniffas hea? I kin get me kicked oudda da Fedyrayshin ef dey catch me wit' cocaine sniffas." He put is wineglass down, hefted himself to his feet and made ready to leave.
"No, no, Gorgo! These are wine sniffers, not hophead coke sniffers," I said reassuringly. "We sniff wine to ascertain its bouquet, taste it to determine its body, swallow it to note its finish, concentrate on its length of aftertaste."
"Well, it don' smell like no boukays I breen ta Lustylips Lulu." I noted a sharp impatience in his words.
"Tell me, Gorgo, doesn't this wine scene impact you as being elitist?" I asked. "Aren't you out of your customary milieu?"
"Aam outta here!" he roared, his deep voice fired with anger. "Like (four-letter-word bleep) now!" "Hey, aah don' know wad da (four-letter-word bleep) you talkin' about. Soun's like a lotta bull (four-letter-word bleep) ta me. Ahh ain't learnin' nuttin' here. Aam haulin' ass oudda here!
"Aah tink aal get me a brewski in dat baa over there before aah ride me Ha'ley cycle ta visit Lulu an' rassle wit' her - if ya get me meanin'. I don' like ta rassle wit' words aah don' know."
As he ponderously stomped to the door, Dick Caparso said something to him. He turned, and again gave Dr. Bob a long searing baleful look. Bob, trembling, shielded his face with his napkin and seemed to try to slide under the table.
Dick brought the group to order again and continued the procedure of his having our group discuss the food and the wine after we finished each flight, calling on different persons - alternating each flight with women and men only -- but always with Dr. Bob and me as anchormen.
Flight I only comprised four chardonnays. Most of us rated them as very good to excellent, only Burgundy's Puligny-Montrachet 1er cru "Champ Gain," Olivier LaFlaive, although acceptable enough, surprisingly was not as good as expected or reputed. Even Bob, former founder and Grand Senéchal of New England's Burgundy Chevaliers du Tastevin chapter and former Delegué General of all Northeast Chevaliers chapters, and avowed Burgundy aficionado, didn't disagree. All wines were deliciously simpatico with the swordfish.
The already mentioned St. Aubin Burgundy was rated excellent as were Dehlinger Chardonnay '01 from Russian River, and Black Jack '01, a California Santa Barbara "Reserve."
As I recorded the descriptors, metaphors, adjectives, spoken flights of fancy and stretches of imagination, the latter two mostly from me, I remembered something I had read many years ago about "winespeak," in describing wines: "Smell and taste descriptors often exceed the resources or abilities of our nose and palate to understand or accept, for they have no written or standardized language.
"There has evolved a somewhat standardized language to favor the language of wine. But in essence the vocabulary of wine tends to be imprecise, overblown and self-indulgent, especially as used by egotistical writers and yak-yak-yaking oenophiles."
And I weigh in: Descriptors of obscure fruits, spices, and flowers, many of which -- honestly now - like acacia blossoms, leechee nuts, tiger lilies - with which most of us are unfamiliar are bewildering, as are wild, imaginative metaphors. How do these grab you? "A sultry provoking Pommard like a nymph's thigh in the underbrush," "a shy Montevina Sauvignon Blanc that gambols on the palate graceful as a gazelle."
Flight II (III and IV and the surprise wines were pinot noir only). Again most of us agreed three of the Flight II wines excelled, but were better when sipped without food than as consort to the peppery - did I say peppery? - I mean searing, fiery, turkey bratwurst sausage with cranberry/orange chutney, shredded parsnip and carrot. Tasty as the dish was, it tended to overwhelm the now fragile, fruit fading Faively Burgundy '88.
Conversely, Faively's Burgundy Mercurey "Clos des Myglands" '88, Dehlinger's California Russian River "Goldridge Vineyard" '00, and Robert Mondavi's California Napa Unfiltered '94 had us commenting enthusiastically, often interrupting one another in our anxiety to express our pleasure. Evidently the peppery bratwurst was acceptable with the wines, as it was not mentioned.
Flight III, with the exception of Burgundy's Prince de Merode "Les Chaillots" Ladoix '02, which was too young, raw, sharp and lacked a forthcoming nose; Burgundy's Pansiot "Geantet Gevrey-Chambertin '96 - prominent plums and cranberries that just wouldn't leave; California's Failla Russian River "Keefer Ranch" '01, and Oregon's Roads End '01 were triumphant with the veal and sage raviolis with sage browned butter or when sipped sans the delicious food. Lush lingering fruit, mild spice varieties, proper balance, smooth swallow and persistent aftertaste best describe the wines.
Here Bob and I disagreed about the Prince de Merode. His voice elevated three octaves, he extended his arms in supplication for confirmation; by his demeanor he questioned the integrity of my palate or perhaps sobriety. Before he could continue, I called into the bar for Gorgo -- to tell him that Dr. Bob was beating up on me.
Gorgo hurried in with beer in hand, wiping his mouth, seeking Bob with mayhem pending in his eyes. Dick stopped him and told him his presence was not necessary. After Bob straightened up in his chair from bending under the table, he uncovered his face that he had concealed with his and Lu's napkins.
Flight IV: All wines were superb, the Patricia Green Oregon '02 was super superb! I sipped it in awe with the wild rice, shiitake mushrooms and high protein grains dish.
Oregon's Brick House "Cuvée du Tonnelier; Burgundy's Bouchard famed Le Corton, "Domaine du Chateau de Beaune," '90, its nose still closed, held up perfectly at age 14; and Morey Saint-Denis '95 from Burgundy's Domain Dujac completed the Caparso challenge part of the magnificent and educational event.
Warmed crumbled Tobais blue cheese, dried plums and walnuts in aged balsamic raspberry vinegar targeted the two surprise wines, Burgundy's Savigny Les Beaune '79 and California's ZD '77.
They were better suited to those of us who have what is called the "British Palate," wines on the downside or near bottom of the slope. I have that palate, but these wines -- alas! -- were flat at the bottom of the slope. The food was great...but isn't it always at the Castle?
Descriptors standardized or not, I heard similar adjectives that the group applied to the pinot noirs, among the following: (reminiscent of, reminds you of, not what you buy at fruit stands or taste from barefoot wifies' kitchen stove, etc.) cherries, blackberries, raisins, mint, toasty oak, black tea, meat, game, smoke, dusty, leather, nuts, dried leaves, earthy, game-y, cinnamon.
Applied to the chardonnays: apple, pineapple, lemon, butterscotch, grass, vanilla, smoke, mineral, wood, toast, nuts, flowers, bell peppers.
And now to the Limoges' home for the annual Grand Repast of Marie's great
sweet tooth, caloric pastries, varied liqueurs, cigars, continued camaraderie and a comfortable feeling of well-being and sobering gratitude for the love the Caparso's and the Limoges' extended to all of us.
The pastries made by Marie: fruit cake, chocolate covered strawberries, pistachio cups, brownie walnut cookies; contributed pastries: white chocolate cheesecake with cranberries, lemon tart, tiramisu, turtle/pecan tart; and I swear there was more - so it seemed to wine-infused Julian. No need to tsk, tsk me: Ever caring, concerned and loyal friends, Dr. Bob and Lu drove me to and from.
I speak to our hosts for all of us: "Thank you, dear friends. You have brought the love and spirituality of the Holidays season into the hearts and minds of your guests. God bless you for your kindness."
Wine Pick: Stephen Ross Dante Dusi Zinfandel 2000, $25.99. Loaded with jammy red berry aromas and varied spices; transfers to the palate to augment plums, briarwood, raisins, black pepper, soft wood tannins and lingering spice-accented berries...somewhat reminiscent of Port. A super zin of outstanding quality.
Email Comments to Julian at:
julian@oxfordwineroom.com