Guest writer JEB has joined our staff to write about wine.
How many things have to happen before you’ll admit that you’re wrong? I had to admit three times that I was wrong about wine, and the admission didn’t come too easily.
I grew up in a Jewish house. My only exposure to wine for the first 19 or so years of my life was Manischewitz. With non-drinking parents, I was never taught about the “real” stuff. I came of age thinking I hated wine altogether.
I grew up a little and drank a little and tasted a little more wine and realized there was more to life than kosher blackberry wine. I came to the conclusion that there were lots and lots of good wines out there, and I liked all sorts of varietals. I just couldn’t stand chardonnay or merlot.
I worked at an upscale bar for a few years, and at the insistence of my manager, I tasted a French chardonnay. I expected to hate it, but I was proven wrong. It was bright and fruity—nothing like any of the other chards I had tasted. I liked French chardonnay, I reasoned, but California chardonn…keep it away from me! The bottles I had tasted from California seemed too grassy and oaky for my tastes; I preferred my whites lighter and fruitier.
It was a recent trip to California’s wine country that opened my eyes. On the drive from the Bay area to Mendocino County, the boy and I stopped at four vineyard tasting rooms. My only stipulations: I would not taste any merlot or chardonnay. I was convinced I wouldn’t like them. After some…um…discussion, I gave in. I would taste, I just wouldn’t like. The girl behind the counter at Sonoma County’s Foppiano was very friendly and poured us heaping glasses of their featured wine of the week. Which happened to be a chardonnay made under their Riverside label. I took a sip…not bad. Another…and I actually…liked it. The wine was citrus-y, but not cloyingly so; bright, but not as light as a pinot gris.
The girl behind the counter explained that, unlike most California chards, their wine was aged in steel barrels, not oak. It really changed the flavor. Wines aged in oak barrels tend to use malolactic fermentation, where malic acid is converted to lactic acid. This gives most California chardonnays their buttery taste. Malolactic fermentation is absent in most steel barrel-aged wines, giving the wine a taste more reminiscent of bright citrus than heavy butter. Naturally, wines not aged in oak barrels never gain an oaky taste.
There are some very good oaky California chardonnays out there, Sonoma Cutrer, McNab Ridge, and Selby Winery are among them. They just aren’t my personal taste. I still haven’t tasted a merlot I really like. But one thing I’ve learned from all of this admitting that I’m wrong: I’ve got to keep tasting.
By the way, most of these vineyards are more than happy to deliver if you can’t find their products in your local wine shop. You must, of course, be over 21 to order (be prepared to show ID to the delivery person), and due to state laws and regulations, those drinkers in Virginia and Maryland cannot ship wine. Those of you in DC, however, can get wine delivered right to your door. You can always ask your local wine retailer to order a case or two for you.
One Response
It’s not entirely true that California wineries cannot ship to Virginia consumers. All the winery has to do is get a $65 license from the Virginia ABC, and they can ship direct to the consumer. The winery probably has to ship two or three cases per year to Virginia consumers to break even on the license, so small wineries probably figure it’s not worth the hassle. Most medium or large wineries will do it, though.
Not that you’d want your wine shipped in the summer, of course, because of all the time it’ll sit in overheated warehouses and delivery trucks.