White Heron & Competitions

When we started in 1986 and for many years afterwards we entered competitions as a way to get the winery noticed. If you come into our tasting room and peruse our scrapbook you will find information about medals we have won tucked away here and there.

Eventually we realized that none of the reviews (also tucked away in our scrapbook) or medals made any difference in our sales. This was primarily because we never won the super triple gold platinum award. This is because the un-oaked, fruit forward, and unfined style of wine we make does not fare well in competitions. We then stopped entering competitions as, on average, it costs $40 per wine to enter.

Why does the White Heron style not fare well in competitions?

A recent competition near here featured over 200 wines. I have myself worked as a judge in wine competitions. You are served a flight of comparable wines, say five Chardonnays. You rate these Chardonnays without food or atmosphere. You then move on to the next flight of Chardonnays. From each flight a wine is selected, assuming enough judges liked the wine. The wine selected is the wine that tastes the best compared to the other wines in the flight in that environment. The ‘winning’ wines from each flight are then returned to be tasted where eventually the ‘best’ wine of all is selected.

A Tale of Two Vodkas

Blue Ice American Vodka and Blue Ice Organic Wheat Vodka

See, I had a problem. I have long believed that the world of drinkers fell into two distinct camps: Those who enjoy the flavors of distilled drinks, and those that drink vodka. Vodka, to my mind, was a drink that served as the alcoholic equivalent of tofu; while possessing limited properties of its own, it nevertheless served the purpose only of adding meatiness to the existing flavors of the other ingredients. Vodka and cranberry juice did not become a different drink; rather, it became an enhanced cranberry juice that made cute girls in cocktail dresses talk to me, just as tofu doesn’t change the flavor of curry, it just makes it more filling.

Leave it to an Idaho company to change my mind.

Now celebrating its tenth anniversary, Blue Ice Vodka is crafted in Rigby, Idaho, by master distiller Bill Scott, using Idaho Russet Burbank Potatoes. This potato base puts it in an exclusive company: less than 3% of vodkas in the world are made from potatoes. Mr. Scott carefully controls the removal of contaminates, and uses a five-stage filtration process to ensure clarity, while carefully maintaining the delicate flavors. This effort shone through into the pure flavor when we initially tried the vodka.

Its smooth, well-rounded and slightly sweet flavor spoke to all of us. When we added an ice cube, it filled out even more with flavor. It was easy to see why the Beverage Testing Institute called Blue Ice Vodka the “Best American Vodka” in 2003. It was easily the most full-flavored and interesting vodka I had ever had. And yet, I still struggled with how to write about it. Because I was prejudiced. I couldn’t get over that vodka wall.

I tried consulting others: Curtis and Doug called it smooth and well-rounded. Sarah called it sweet and warming. Leon commented that it was mellow, with a nice finish, and didn’t hang at the back of your throat. No less experts than award-winning craft bartenders Shane Sahr and Mike McSorley at Tini Bigs showed excitement at the prospect of working with it. And yet, even knowing that it is a wonderful, flexible, smooth vodka left me with no idea how to write about it, except to recommend it to vodka drinkers, and to anyone trying to understand the appeal of real potato vodka (think difference between Bacardi and real Jamaican rum). I started, deleted, started, erased, wrote, re-wrote, and was about to throw in the towel until something biblical, something amazing, something so mind-blowing occurred that I had to sit down and write about it.

I tasted the Organic Wheat Vodka.

How I Ate My Way Through Swiftwater Cellars’ Wine in the Pines

Roll out the red carpet, the rockstars of Washington wine and celebrities of the pairing sphere were in attendance at Wine in the Pines at Swiftwater Cellars a few weekends back at Cle Elum’s Suncadia.

Wine in the Pines was stacked with a number of events through the weekend, offering a three-day food and wine festival dedicated to Northwest juice and bites. Completely poised to food and wine pairing, Saturday’s kickoff affair was buried in the winery’s cellar with 60 sets of eyes and ears in full devotion to Master Sommelier Evan Goldstein and TV host and original Thirsty Girl Leslie Sbrocco.

Son of celebrated author and Chef Joyce Goldstein, Evan Goldstein was spawn into the world of gastronomic culture and in 1987, he became the one of the youngest Americans and globally to pass the prestigious Master Sommelier examination. Since then, Goldstein has been creating wine education programs, launching hospitality schools and writing books like they are going out of fashion, including Perfect Pairings: A Master Sommelier’s Practical Advice for Partnering Wine with Food, which brought him to Wine in the Pines.

Leslie Sbrocco, Thirsty Girl extraordinaire and Today Show wine contributor, is also an award-winning author, national speaker and wine consultant within the culinary industry. Sbrocco’s first book, Wine for Women: A Guide to Buying, Pairing and Sharing Wine, helped to put her on the map with at-home female cooks striving for the real meal deal. Sbrocco can currently be found on her PBS show, Check Please!, and regularly has guest appearances on NBC and with her friend, Oprah.

An Open Letter to Big Red Wines

So you’ve come back. Do you really think you can just come traipsing back into my life again after leaving for an entire summer? You want me to just pick you up again as if everything was fine? Am I really supposed to just take you back?

Sorry Honey. I’ve moved on. I’ve met so many fantastic white wines after you left that I barely even remembered you. I met a Torrontes from Argentina. That’s right. We saw Shakespeare in the Park together. Did you know I spent some time on the beach with a Sauvignon Blanc from California? Yup. That was in June and I’ve had that same wine three times since then. Uh huh. Unlike you, it’s crisp and it’s bright and it refreshes me like you never did.

Did you hear I met a Viognier for the first time this July? Well I did. I even brought it to my family picnic. Guess what? They loved it. I might even take it over and introduce it to the guys on game night. So don’t even try to weasel back in like you and me got it goin’ on.

Did you know I had to put the big red wine glasses away after you left? I should have known you wouldn’t be around once the weather got nice. I was so stupid! And I have no doubt that you’re probably showing up in other people’s glasses right now too. No! We’re done! Things are different now. We. Are. Done.

Don’t get me wrong. I wish you well. I mean, you always did go well with steak. Do you still go well with steak? I bet you do. Remember that night at the cabin? The night of two bottles? You were amazing. You’re always amazing on a cold night. We were good together, weren’t we? It would be fun to do something like that again. We have so much history together. It would be a shame to just turn our backs on so much history. Okay, maybe I’ll have just one glass. For old time’s sake —   but I’m not taking you back.

This week’s recommendation:

Guglielmo Private Reserve, Petite Sirah 2007 ($24.99): With flavors of smoke, chocolate, and leather, Guglielmo tastes like something we love to reminisce about but are careful not to talk about. This wine is big and meaty and buxom and delicious and a great way to welcome back the big red wine season. Grab a bottle and create some history.

To read more of Kris Barber’s insights on wine, visit his blog at www.winerogue.wordpress.com.

 

Amended Taglines for Paul Masson Wines

We will serve no wine before its time…that said, I’m also the same guy who would serve no high calorie snacks during the football game, and that didn’t pan out so well.

We will serve no wine before its time…but then again, we’re all drunk and I didn’t expect the beer to go this fast.

We will serve no wine before its time…and while I’m at it, I will serve no sushi again at the all day, fun-in-the-sun company picnic.

We will serve no wine before its time…oh, and coffee enemas are out too.

We will serve no wine before its time…unless you’re on death row and it’s your last request. We might consider it then.

We will serve no wine before its time…but if you do happen to get some before its time, discontinue use if rash or irritation occurs.

We will serve no wine before its time…and you can’t even have any when it is its time, Bob. Idiot.

Blend Seattle

A Wine Event Celebrating the Art of Blending

The measure of a chef, it’s fair to say, is his/her ability to pick the finest of ingredients, assemble them in such a way that the characteristics of each complement the others, resulting in a dish that delivers texture and flavor that pleases the palate. If, for example, you found yourself seated at Tendrils Restaurant at Cave B Inn, and ordered the special, you’d probably be pretty disappointed if they brought you a banana instead of Double R Ranch striploin on rustic blue cheese mashed yukons with black trumpet bordelaise. Nothing against bananas, but you don’t need Executive Chef Bear Ullman for that. You just don’t.

The same is true with wine and winemakers. Nearly every bottle you see on the shelf is a blend of some kind. Sure, there are the Bordeaux blends, “red wine” blends, table wines, etc., but even apparent single varietals are rarely 100%, and when they are, they’re often blends of different lots, different vineyards, different AVAs. A winemaker, like a chef, is constantly assembling constituent ingredients to make a great wine. A little of this for structure, a little of that for mouthfeel, a little of this for color, a little of that for body. (Imagine Dr. Frankenstein rolling Angelina Jolie off the assembly line.) Even if you pick up a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, for example, to be called such on the lable, the bottle has only to contain 75% of Cab. A quarter of the volume can be made up of whatever else the winemaker feels would enhance the overall composition of the wine, and it can make a big difference.

Nerds

Nerds: the untouchables of our society. We like having them around because they make us feel so much better about ourselves. I know how politically incorrect that sounds but I also know you secretly agree. Don’t believe me? Okay, do this: think of two nerds fighting each other. Now, imagine one is wearing a “Black holes are out of sight” t-shirt. Good, now imagine the other wearing a t-shirt that says, “3.14% of seafarers are Pi-rates.”  You’re smiling now, right? You’re feeling better about yourself somehow, aren’t you? Yeah, me too. Maybe it goes all the way back to junior high, watching them walk down the hallway with a Bridges of Madison County lunch box in one hand and a clarinet in the other (more commonly known as an “abstinence horn” by those residing higher on the social ladder). Seeing them there spoke to our ego, convincing us that for some reason it was better to be one of us than one of them.

But why would someone be thrust into an entirely different social class for simply playing an abstinence horn or carrying a somewhat feminine movie themed lunch box? Especially considering how well the movie was scripted and cast. The rules and complexities determining these hierarchies are often ridiculous to anyone outside looking in. For example: in the world of competitive bicyclists, if you tell someone their saddle looks too low, you’ve just called them a nerd. Or did you know there are certain brands of binoculars that die-hard bird-watchers would not be caught dead using because of how it would make them look? And even nerd circles have their nerds. For example, when you play Dungeons & Dragons do you use a character sheet to help you remember your powers? I hope not.

Navigating the world of wine is just the same.

Rhone Rangers Unite!

Not quite the Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers brought to you by the folks at the Saban TV franchise, but these are the much more feasible, golden state Rhone Rangers. The Francophile influenced organization brought their wine trade show to Seattle for their annual tasting of California Rhone-cloned wines.

As the domestic leader of non-profit dedication to promoting American Rhone varietal wines, The Rhone Rangers’ mission is to “educate the public on Rhone varietal wine grapes grown in America and to promote the production and enjoyment of these wines, with emphasis on integration into our daily lives.”

Several Washington producers can attest to that statement and did so by jumping on the band wagon for the event including Chateau Ste. Michelle, Mercer Estates and Maison Bleue, all to size up their Rhone wines to those of the original Rhone Rangers two states down.

To qualify as a Rhone Ranger, the winery must be a member of the organization and 75% of the wine’s content must include one or more of the 22 traditional Rhone grape varieties approved by the French government in Cotes du Rhone.

Now, down to business. Although the winery line up was shorter this year with a few Idaho and Oregon producers thrown in for good measure, the wines showed true to their varietals and the organization’s core mantra.

If Sommeliers Talked Like Politicians

Sommelier: "Mission accomplished."

Sommelier: Good evening. I’d be happy to answer any questions you have about the wine list. I believe the last sommelier you spoke with failed you, and if you take my advice, I’ll get you back on the right track.

Me: Uhm. Wow. Okay. Well, I’m having steak and she’s having the pork. Can you recommend a good Californian wine?

Sommelier: No. American wines have gone to pot. We need to get back to making wines like our forefathers.

Me: That sounds serious. Okay, what about an Italian wine? Could you recommend an Italian wine for us?

Sommelier: If you keep drinking Italian wine, in two years America will have a deficit of nine point two bazillion bottles and three out of every four bottles we produce will go to just paying off the Italian producers. That’s why I’m implementing my three point plan to bring America back to American wine.

Me: But I thought you said American wines have gone to pot.

Sommelier: You took that out of context.

Me: But you just said it.

Sommelier: It depends of the meaning of the word “have”.

Me: Okaaaay, will it be American or not? What do you recommend?

Sommelier: I don’t think the American people want to hear about my views on wine.

Me: Why can’t you just answer the question? Why can’t you recommend something?

Sommelier: Because if I’m going to be your sommelier, my number one priority will be to repeal the corkage fee. Did you know the corkage fee costs patrons two hundred million dollars a day?

Me: But what do you recommend? I’m asking for a recommendation!

Sommelier: If you take a look at my record, you’ll see I’ve already recommended something.

Me: That’s it. I’m going to alert the management.

Sommelier: It was a sommelier who alerted the British.

Me: What?

Sommelier: That they weren’t gonna be takin’ away our wine, uh, by ringin’ those bells.

Me: I give up.

Sommelier: Mission accomplished.

No skirting the issue or dancing around the subject with this week’s recommendation.

Talbott Kali Hart 2008, Pinot Noir ($16.99): Let me just speak plainly: This Pinot Noir is one of the best I’ve tasted. Talbott takes every flavor profile known to wine and stuffs it into the light body of a Pinot Noir the way creationists are crammed into the front row at a Palin rally. This quality is often not even found in a bottle twice this price.

To read more of Kris Barber’s insights on wine, visit his blog at www.winerogue.wordpress.com.

 

A Quick Lesson on the Gender of Drinks

(or “What Not to Order in a Lumberjack Bar”)

Before I was aware that some drinks have gender, I walked into a bar on the Iron Range in northern Minnesota, a bar filled with lumberjacks and steel workers, and ordered a pink squirrel. I know, it should have been obvious but I grew up in a home without booze and was new to drinking so I ordered the only drink I was familiar with–the one my friend’s mom drank. For anyone who tells you that it’s never too late to change your image, I can tell you that in some cases, it is. In this case there was no recovery and in spite of quickly recognizing my error and adding “and make it in a dirty glass!” my masculinity could not be saved that day.

Now anyone who reads this column knows that I don’t really believe that a drink defines you. I repeatedly preach that you should drink what you want. But there is a perception out there in the general public that begs the question, what determines whether a drink is male or female?  To help you sort it out, here are a few basic guidelines.

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