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.

Négociants With A Mission

A look at Maison and Cork House wines

Up until about twenty-five years ago, the world wine market was largely dominated by négociants, wine dealers who bought grapes, must, or wine in various states of completion from smaller producers, and assembled it all into their own signature wine programs. Because individual producers couldn’t make enough wine, were too small to afford production equipment, or had limited access to consumers, they’d sell to a négociant who could make better use of it.

The last couple of years has seen a resurgence of négociants in the wine industry. It was bound to happen. In retrospect, the return of the wine négotiant seems inevitable.

The growth of the Washington wine industry has been nothing short of explosive. In 1999, there were a mere 160 bonded wineries in the State, and according to a report by the Washington State Liquor Control Board, there were 686 wineries operating with non-retail licenses in 2010. According to a recent report by the Washington Association of Wine Grape Growers, grape production increased by three percent in 2010 from the prior year, which may seem small until you consider that this number represents a record high in Washington. We crushed 160,000 tons of wine grapes last year, whereas we were producing a mere 70,000 tons back in 1999. As far as bottling goes, we bottled 21,468,124 gallons (equivalent to about 81,265,690 1.5-litre bottles) of still and effervescent wine in 2010, and in 1999, we bottled just 6,815,620 gallons (about 25,799,924 1.5-litre bottles) of still and effervescent wine. And consumption? According to statistics from the Wine Institute, nationwide wine consumption was at about 2.02 gallons (about eight bottles) per person per year in 1999, and has increased to 2.54 gallons (about ten bottles) in 2010.

	1999	2010	% +/-
Washington Wineries	160	686	+328.8%
Washington Grape Production (tons)	70,000	160,000	+128.6%
Washington Wine Bottled (gallons)	6,815,619	21,468,124	+215.0%
U.S. Wine Consumption (gallons per capita)	2.02	2.54	+25.7%

The question, then, is where’s the limit? Wine consumption continues to grow, but it doesn’t appear to be growing nearly as fast as production. The law of supply and demand would dictate that either prices should fall to move more goods, or that supply should decrease to match the demand. What we’re seeing is a little of both.

With the economy in the crapper, we’re still seeing trends of increased wine consumption, but by and large, the increase comes from less expensive bottles. Some wineries have adjusted the pricing of their wines, and some, to protect the integrity of the brand, have released second labels with lower price points to generate revenue through volume rather than margin. Still more are simply bottling less. But, if you’ve got contracts on the fruit, or you’ve got an estate vineyard, bottling less means that you’ve got a bunch of leftover vino that you’ve already paid for with dollars and labor that becomes a financial liability. If you want to recoup your costs, you’ve got to liquidate.

That’s where the négociant comes in.

We’re all familiar with the Charles Shaw model (now a Trader Joe’s exclusive)–buying up surplus wine at pennies on the dollar, dumping it all in the hopper and churning out cheap wine by the tanker-full. Savvy business move, and occasionally even palatable, but as anyone who’s consumed any amount of Two Buck Chuck will tell you, you never know what you’re going to get. My friend Valerie once told me that she’d go to Trader Joe’s and buy one bottle of Chuck, open and taste it in the car, and if it was drinkable, go back in to buy a case.

Today’s négotiants aren’t peddling cheap bottles of plonk, though. On the contrary, we’re seeing talented winemakers buying up nearly-finished surplus wines from premium wineries and seizing an opportunity to blend tasty vino that can be sold at a value price. And some of them, like Paul Beveridge and Travis Scarborough, are also using négotiant wine programs  to pursue worthy causes.

Pico Maccario 2009 Barbera d’Asti Lavignone

*Bottle #112: Pico Maccario 2009 Lavignone Barbera d’Asti DOCG

*Price Tag: $15

*Running Tab: $1,415

*Restaurant: La Vita e Bella

I once worked service. Okay, I worked the restaurant scene for nearly four glorious years. Still haven’t made as much paper as I did when I was shaking up cocktails and cutting off frat boys.

As much as I loathed my last culinary employer (I will not name!), it did lead me down the path of wine and its service that followings. So, thanks, I guess, sexist, hellism restaurant chain I worked for.

From the point of the server and from the patron, I believe the best wine service is when you’re challenged.

In true duel format, you order a Nebbiolo Langhe based upon its dryness and dark red fruit, your server tells you that you should order the Barbera d’Asti instead and a staring contest commences as he convinces you with free tasters.

Relinquishing your arms, you take on his win and realize that he was correct. This Barbera is what I wanted.

At least this Barbera. From the well-known Barbera specialist, Pico Maccario Barbera is placed in Mombaruzzo, Piedmont, falling into the Asti DOCG. The vineyards on the estate cover nearly 173 acres, making it the heftiest of the individually owned vineyards in the Piedmont region.

A Few Last Minute Wine Reviews Before The Apocalypse

With only one day before the rapture, I realized I had to hurry to taste all the wine I had left in my cellar. By taking one sip from each bottle, I could sample everything. Below are the reviews entered into my tasting journal on 5-20-11.

8:00 am. 2004 Brunellos: These have aged well. What a great vintage for Italy. Good structure and use of tannins. Finding it difficult to keep samples to one sip.

8:30 am. 2002 Burgundies: Delicious! Still young but what potential! Great power for such light body. Must try harder to keep samples to one sip. Lots of wine to get through today.

9:00 am. Woo Hoo! On to the Bordeaux! Who gives a crap about fruit and balance! All I know is these wines are AWESOME! One sip samples blow!

10:15 am. CalifoooorrrrnnnniiiiaaaWiiinnneeess!!!! This is MARLBOROUGH COUNTRY!!! Finally figured out how to keep samples to one sip: DO ELEVEN OF THEM!!! HAHAHAHAHA!

12:20 pm. Oregon Pinots: I lov Ponits! Do goodly drink for everyone.

A Conversation With My Financial Advisor

Advisor: “I see you’ve put together a budget. That’s good. Let’s have a look at it. Savings…good. Retirement account with company matching…good. Roth IRA…good. I see you’re diversified, that’s good too. Hmmm, what’s this? I see you’re pretty heavy on this entry–this “W” entry. What is that? Are you investing with William Blair? Winston Hill? The Woodbridge Group?”

Me: (Shifting uneasily in my chair) “Uh, no, that’s my wine allotment.”

Advisor: (Long pause as he stares at me over the top of his glasses the way my math teacher stared at me when I explained I didn’t need to show my work because I did all the work in my head) “Your what?”

Me: (Feeling more uncomfortable now) “My wine allotment. That’s…what I’ve…been setting…aside for wine…” (trailing off).

Advisor: (Still staring) “Kris…” (Another long pause and I recognize the face of someone struggling for words to describe the lunacy of my poor judgment. I recognize this face on people instantly now thanks to a lifetime of lunacy and poor judgment). “Kris” (repeated for effect), you can’t continue on this financial path. You’ve really only been contributing significantly since 2003.”

Me: (Brightening somewhat because I was about to drop a great line) “That was an awesome California vintage!” (Immediately wishing I could take that one back).

Vinyl Wines 2009 EQ Grenache, Walla Walla

*Bottle #111: Vinyl Wines 2009 EQ Grenache, Walla Walla

*Price Tag: $25

*Running Tab: $1,400

*Retailer: Homie-hook-up

Chip McLaughlin of Vinyl Wines is masterful at the art of sorority girl style hazing. After social media attacks of the wine kind and four guilt-infused invites to Seattle area events for his Walla Walla winery that I had already missed (I’m really busy!), I finally made it to an outdoor tasting of his wines at Madrona’s most adorable recent addition, the Bottlehouse.

Sweater-clad in 70 degree Seattle weather, McLaughlin looks the part of a gentrified Capitol Hill refugee, transplanted to Walla Walla and clinging on to his city remnants for dear life. With a smile, McLaughlin effortlessly romances the crowd of middle age ladies as they giggle and sip his rose, listening to his every word as he paints the picture of his winery concept for his audience without a stutter in his stroke.

With his business partner, Spencer Richards, McLaughlin launched Vinyl Wine as an ode to new wine experiences. Offering to take wine to the next level with a music industry tie-in, Richards and McLaughlin handpick their wines alongside of their music. Each bottle label is detailed with its individual guitar riff, more often than note, a sentimental favorite of McLaughlin’s.

With the purchase of each bottle, Vinyl offers digital playlists available for download through a passcord on the cork. The playlists include local and national artists, and of course, McLaughlin himself strumming to his modern rockabilly cross house music fusion.  

Otis Kenyon 2007 Matchless Red, Walla Walla

*Bottle #110: Otis Kenyon 2007 Matchless Red, Walla Walla

*Price Tag: $22

*Running Tab: $1,400

*Retailer: Homie-hook-up

James Otis Kenyon was a bona fide bad ass.

Rumored to be the profession with the highest suicide rate, James was a struggling dentist and couldn’t take it any longer when a new practice popped up in his small town of Milton-Freewater, OR. He snapped. Instead of taking it out on himself, James took his competition down. Literally – with a fire that took the building to the ground.

Judgment from the townsfolk and banishment by his wife led James to a disappearance that lasted nearly 50 years and took his family to Walla Walla. James was a mystery and presumed dead to his sons and grandchildren until his grandson, Steve, was able to locate him on the Oregon coast and reunite the family. Passing on at the ripe age of 101, James was able to see his family relationships replenish and establish a valid redemption, leaving a positive legacy in his name.

The motive for James’ actions are still unknown, however, Steve deemed his grandfather enough of a rebel hero to slap his silhouette on his label for Otis Kenyon Wines.

Like Wine, Even “the Whip” Matures

“I bought him the most adorable Phoenix Suns shirt,” my friend said, as he calmly stirred his coffee. I hadn’t seen him in fifteen years and I couldn’t believe my ears. This coming from the guy I partied my way through Europe with. This coming from the guy who squandered most of his twenties with me as a ski bum in the Bavarian Alps. Coming from his mouth, it couldn’t have been more at odds with how I remembered him than if he started the conversation with, “Ya know, the great thing about cancer is…”

This guy had been the human equivalent of the Tasmanian Devil from the Bugs Bunny cartoons. He was the guy you invited to your party to help get it going but then secretly hoped would leave before he set your closet on fire and convinced all the other party goers to dance around the blaze while beating on your pots and pans. He was the guy whose exuberance, mirth, zeal, and outright madness could not be contained in a simple name, and had to go by a nickname. And now, fifteen years later, there he sat, The Whip, right across from me, tame, and talking about his child. The fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree, I mused as his little boy turned a bag of sugar upside-down on the kitchen floor.

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