Mar 30 2010

an artsy cafe & a smokey jazz club

Category: Wine tastingadmin @ 8:11 pm

 

As a disaffected youth, I spent my fair share of time in small cafĂ©s, cramped coffee shops and impromptu art spaces – the kinds of places where larger-than-life images of found objects are projected onto once whitewashed walls while an erratic drum beat plays through blown speakers. Those places. I love those places. They take all comers and everyone mingles with the same intentional, vacant stares plastered on their faces.

It’s in one of those spots that I tried my first glass of wine. And every once in a while I remember what that a) tasted like, b) felt like and c) gave me a forewarning of. It tasted terrible. It felt freeing. It made me realize that I should never waste time on wine I didn’t like.

I’m drinking wine as I write this, reliving memories of being at one of those impromptu art shows in an abandoned warehouse in Montreal, Quebec, sometime around the summer of (I think) 1994. Or maybe 1995. It’s a bit hazy. Hey, it’s Montreal. If you’re not hazy, you’re not doing Montreal right.

Located outside of Kelowna, Gray Monk is far from those artsy events in Montreal. And the 2007 Merlot I’m drinking is most definitely a good wine experience. But something about it makes me think of those times without a mortgage, without car payments. It’s youthful abandon squeezed out of grapes and poured in your glass. It’s the nights you stayed up so late that it was almost morning before you stumbled home with a smile on your face, subway tickets falling out of your pockets as you tossed your jacket on the floor before you fell into bed. This wine is easy, familiar and adventurous. And it’s under $20 a bottle. You should buy one.

Wine isn’t all about youthful abandon. Those bottles are around, and they’ll happily welcome you back. But there may come a time when you want something a bit different. Unique. Unusual and unexpected. Have I got a winery – and a wine – for you.

Welcome to the new winery on the Okanagan block: Painted Rock Estate Winery outside of Penticton. I tasted their 2007 Syrah, and fell in love. This baby is sexy, smokey jazz club. Thick, juicy steak with peppercorn and brandy-dipped, hand-rolled cigars. Something curing nearby with hickory in the pot. If the allure and mystique of a speakeasy could be bottled, this might be it – and that far from does it justice. I met my first intensely crafted wine. This wine is selected, refined and lovingly slaved over. Buy it, then stash it away to keep for yourself – and maybe someone you love. Maybe.

It’s a Tuesday, and I’ve managed to visit an abandoned warehouse in Montreal and a speakeasy somewhere unmentionable – all without leaving the comfort of my home. And all through the unsuspecting glass of Okanagan wine. What a great way to un*wine*d.

Cheers!

~ Jeannette

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Mar 23 2010

cotton candy, deep hole earth & a rainy day

Category: Wine tastingadmin @ 5:59 pm

Appies, dinner & dessert – a fairly standard order. There’s also a “recommended” wine tasting order: whites before reds, lighter before fuller-bodied and sweeter dessert or late harvest wines last. Makes sense, right? Sure – but that doesn’t mean it has to happen that way. As for talking about wine, well, I’m going to make you wait until the end of the blog-meal before I serve up the (lighter) special treat. Because I can.

Wine tasting is something I recommend you do with a buddy, friend or random stranger you meet outside the tasting room. You know what I’m talking about: you’re on the tasting circuit and realize you’re following or being followed by that sylish couple with the cool glasses or the gentleman that likes to talk to himself. It’s inevitable.

Where was I? Right – tasting with friends.

My fella likes to dip into the wine with me, but sometimes I like to bring along a friend who has a) different knowledge than me, b) a few spare hours and c) a good sense of humour because my descriptors aren’t standard WSET lingo (as you might have guessed by now). One of the friends I like to taste wines with is Luke, the empire builder from an earlier wineopoly post.

Luke joined me for some tasting the other night; here’s an sample of how it went.

Me: Deep hole earth.

Luke: Hmmm, really?

Me: It’s like I’m in a big hole and it smells like earth from deep down.

Luke: That’s interesting.

See what I mean? There was some cursing involved (in a good way – sometimes descriptors need a bit of oomph), discussion about cropping and yield per acre (on Luke’s part – I sat and listened) and talk of good barnyard smell versus bad barnyard smell. On the whole, I learned (as usual) a bit from Luke and he (I’m sure) got a good laugh. Deep hole earth says it all.

I tried my first BC Zweigelt, from Arrowleaf in Lake Country. A long, deep inhale on this baby took me to carnivals and cotton candy. That’s right – cotton candy. But it’s a spicy little grape, and on shorter sniffs I could have been walking past the spice aisle in a grocery store. I fell in love with zweigelt (say it like svy-gelt) in Ontario’s Niagara Region, and I’m happy that BC wineries are producing it too. This one’s a bit more cherryish than peppery, and it looks like purple, velvet curtains. Very cool.

On the docket was a Merlot from Twisted Tree in Osoyoos – and damn it’s a nice looking bottle! Seriously folks, the bottle itself has presence, and is pretty sexy. When I think BC merlot, I think dark and sexy. This is the wine that made me think deep hole earth. It also made me think of rich liquors and cassis, and blackberry porter (yes, I drink beer too). Get your hands on a bucket of overripe blackberries and some deep hole earth and you’ve got this merlot. I warned you that I wouldn’t use wine-speak.

It’s time for dessert. Not that this wine tasted like dessert – it’s just that it’s the bomb, the bee’s knees, the freakin’ stellar event of our wine tasting night. It’s the Pinot Noir from Howling Bluff on the Naramata bench. Two words: rainy day. A whiff of this little gem was like walking on a sidewalk after a summer rain, when the stones and ground are still wet and everything’s got that clean-rain-smell. The more we sniffed and slurped, the more we oohed and aahed over it. Simple tasting, like chocolate and cherries and summer, but with that fantastic rainy day smell. Perfect.

It’s nice to enjoy a glass (or two) of wine by yourself – I’ve been known to do that myself on occasion. Don’t look in our recycle bin. But it’s way more fun when you’ve got some friends with you and you’re just drinking and chatting. That’s when things like deep hole earth happen. And there’s nothing more un*wine*d than that.

Cheers!

Jeannette

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Mar 17 2010

getting blasted with a diva

Category: Wine tastingadmin @ 2:54 pm

 

If you’re reading this blog there’s a high probability you’ve been Blasted. And I’m pretty sure there’s a good chance you’ve met a Diva. After all, this is Okanagan wine country.

I got Blasted recently with a couple of friends, and it made me realize that I need to get Blasted more often. I live minutes away from the source, so I have ample opportunity to get Blasted with the good stuff.

This is not about me getting drunk. While that may be a side effect occasionally, it’s not the intention and I’ll keep those bits to myself. Right now I’m talking about Blasted Church. What did you think, silly?

I’ve had my gulps of their white blend, Hatfield’s Fuse, and clinked glasses full of the red blend The Dam Flood, so this time I chose something a bit different: the RosĂ©. Summer’s knocking at the door and the red wine lover in me sometimes craves of a taste a wee bit beyond the white wine world. In that case, a good rosĂ© is in order.

The Blasted Church RosĂ© was all tart-y goodness. It made me think of cherries, the kind that aren’t quite sweet but aren’t quite sour – like ones your friend who makes the really good pies bakes with. Everyone has a friend who makes good pies; if you don’t, you should. I’ll be taking a bottle of that RosĂ© on a picnic this summer, especially when we’ve got leftover pulled pork for sandwiches. Mmm


Didn’t I mention something about a Diva? Ah, yes. There’s a Diva in the Okanagan. You can find her at Summerhill Pyramid Winery, and she goes by the name of Diva’s Delight– Late Harvest Ehrenfelser. Plus, she comes in a very unique case.

 I’m not a big fan of late harvest wines. It’s not about the sweetness – for me, drinking coffee is a vehicle for sugar delivery (yep, I’m one of thosepeople); it’s that I find so many late harvest wines too similar. And like I’ve said before, everyone has their own taste, so this is the game where nobody’s wrong and everybody wins. Yay!

The Summerhill Late Harvest Ehrenfelser is a pleasant, pretty wine. It’s not overly sweet, and can be sipped on its own or after a meal. If enjoy late harvest wines I’m sure you’ll be quite happy with this one. Give it a try – and it’s got some of the most unique packaging around.

I think that’s what wine’s about: trying new things, sharing experiences with friends and getting Blasted with a Diva – once in a while. Don’t be so uptight; un*wine*d a little. It’s fun.

Cheers!

Jeannette

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Mar 10 2010

chardonnay: nay? no way. yumm-ay!

Category: Wine tastingadmin @ 7:30 pm

Before you think “ugh, chardonnay”, let tell you about my recent chardonnay experience – and past experiences – which might change your mind. Maybe not, but you won’t know that until you read.

So chardonnay has a bit of a bad rep from the last however many years. There were a few nasty chards out there. Like Aunt-Mable-big-flabby-upper-arms bad. That descriptor has been used to describe many early BC chardonnays: flabby. I don’t know if I could spot flabby when I tasted flabby, but I do know that I’d likely spot yuck.

BC chardonnays are now something completely different, my wine-o friends.

When I worked in a tasting room I found that if I announced I was pouring a chardonnay people would cover their tasting glass and cringe. So I changed my tactic: I didn’t tell them what I was pouring. It worked. Like gangbusters. They loved chardonnay when their ideas of what they should like didn’t get in the way.

A few weeks ago I tasted two Okanagan chardonnays with my fella and some friends – because wine is social. Grab a friend when you uncork a bottle. That being said, I’ve been known to do a little solo wine-ing when I write, but I’ve got my fictional characters for company. They’re like invisible friends for grown ups.

First was the 2007 Unoaked Chardonnay from Dirty Laundry. They’re a smaller winery in Summerland and they’re finding their spot in the Okanagan wine market. I haven’t had much exposure to them yet; I need to get out there for a visit. Soon.

Disclaimer: my chardonnay preference is that I love oak. Buttery, creamy, oak-y chardonnays do it for me. Think peaches and cream corn, smooth jazz crooners. It turns out the Dirty Laundry chardonnay isn’t that. Darn.

It’s an unoaked chardonnay, which means it spent life in stainless steel tanks that keep the fruit in the spotlight. Not so much to my taste, but that’s okay. We’re all different. I’m not a light, fruity, crisp chardonnay type gal. I already said that. And they make an oaked chardonnay which I have yet to taste. I’m looking forward to it.

Next was a 2007 from Cedar Creek (2008 is out now). It wasn’t too oak-y, which some say is good but I say more oak please. Now, these cats make my kind of chard. Buttery, creamy… you can smell yummy vanilla on this baby. Nice.

The unoaked chard from Dirty Laundry didn’t do much for me, but that oaked one from Cedar Creek had me thinking of smokey campfires and nights underneath the stars. I’ll definitely take a bottle of that one with me to the next campfire night.

Whether oaked or unoaked, you should give BC chardonnay a try. After all, they’re called tasting rooms for a reason. Taste. Sample. Spit if you must, but go try something new or re-new for you.

Chardonnay is one of my faves to un*wine*d with – if it’s big, bold and unapologetic about its time in oak. That’s just the way I like ‘em.

Cheers!

Jeannette

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Mar 05 2010

monopoly + wine = wineopoly

Category: Wine tastingadmin @ 2:34 am

Question: What do you get when you cross wine with Monopoly? Answer: Four happy players.

Think you know the game? Think again. Monopoly has come a long way from Baltic Avenue, and a game played recently with friends showed me it’s not the game of our youth. It’s now Wineopoly. That’s right. Monopoly with a wine theme. How could I not play?

You buy vineyards and plantings, sometimes countries and regions (I held on to France; Luke was after an empire). Instead of buying houses and hotels you purchase grape bunches and bottles. And rather than going to jail, players go to the cellar to age. Nice touch.

We started the game with a Pinot Blanc from Lake Breeze in Naramata. Game? What game? I was surrounded by big, leafy trees and sitting on a patio on a warm afternoon. When I closed my eyes I could almost smell the apples; the fresh, ripe granny smith type. I’m easily distracted so it’s a good thing I’m not very competitive.

When the game got going, and I remembered to buy a property or two, I got into a Marsanne Rousanne white blend from Inniskillin, outside of Oliver. These grapes are less commonly planted (they’re originally from North Rhone in France – see, I hung on to France for a reason) and combined here at a ratio of about 50/50.

Inniskillin has a series called ‘Discovery’ that produces small amounts, but done very well. The Marsanne Rousanne is in that series, and it’s a sweet discovery indeed. You can read the flavour profile on the Inniskillin website because I won’t do the wine-speak thing (it’s less fun). But I’ll say this about it: grade school recess.

My elementary school in Ontario had a huge expanse of lawn and most of the lower slope wasn’t often mowed in June. That’s when the wild strawberries were just coming into season. My friends and I would hustle down the hill at afternoon recess, throw ourselves on the ground and root around for the little berries. They always tasted so much sweeter than the store bought kind.

No, the Marsanne Rousanne didn’t taste or smell like strawberries. I’m not done yet.

When we’d found all of the ripe berries we’d spend the last bit of recess hunting for clover. The kind of clover with big, fat purple-pink heads and individual sections. We’d pull each section out, suck the pinhead of sweetness off the bottom and repeat.

That’s what this wine reminded me of: laying on my stomach in the grass on a June day and tasting little bits of sweet clover goodness. Now that’s a good wine.

As for the Wineopoly; I lost. But I was being silly with my fella and our friends Heather & Luke on a Saturday night – and we were drinking awesome BC wine. What a great way to un*wine*d.

Cheers!

Jeannette

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