A curated collection of wine reviews from the top wine writers in America. Every day, we highlight the best wines available in America. From the staff at the National Wine School in California.
Just a quick hit today to tell you about my most recent articles for the Napa Valley Wine Academy. The latest is my final report from my Alentejo media jaunt, focusing on a handful of the region’s producers who are turning Alentejo’s reputation as a hot area pumping out ripe, enormous wines a bit on its head: New Kid, Old Towns.
The next, released a bit earlier in August, is What Does the U.S. Wine Business Need to Combat Racism? It Needs You. As you can almost certainly discern from that title, it includes my thoughts on systemic racism in the U.S. wine industry, and specifically how wine education can help to combat it. And yeah, I’ve already received some hate e-mail for it, which I think underscores the need for pieces like that to be written.
If you’ve ever found yourself shopping for a wine-lover, you’ll know that it’s a lot harder than one might think. And with so many gifting options available, the last thing […]
I taste a bunch-o-wine (technical term for more than most people). So each week, I share some of my wine reviews (mostly from samples) and tasting notes in a “mini-review” format.
They are meant to be quirky, fun, and (mostly) easily-digestible reviews of (mostly) currently available wines (click here for the skinny on how to read them), and are presented links to help you find them, so that you can try them out for yourself. Cheers!
It’s true! I can actually talk about wine books that aren’t mine, I swear! My pile of wine book media samples has been piling up here at 1WD HQ, not because I haven’t found anything worthy to recommend (quite the opposite, in fact), but because, well, it just didn’t feel prudent to offer critiques of other people’s books while I was busy promoting the release of my own. It just felt like a huge invitation for Karma negativo.
But enough time has wound by since my books were released that I think we’re in the safe zone for a handful of wine book reviews, and so I give you four recent releases that I think are worth a look (and maybe some of your hard-earned cash):
At this point, I have pretty much run out of things to say about this small-but-mighty tome, which I recommend every year because, simply put, it has no equal in the wine world in terms of packing as much useful information as possible into as small a format as possible. Every serious student of the vine should have this pocket book.
If you don’t yet own a copy, or haven’t refreshed your edition in a few years, you should pull the trigger on this one, ASAP. For 2021, Johnson devotes the books glossy latter pages to the topic of terroir, and in his inimitably British way, he pulls no punches (e.g., there is a small section entitled “How to kill your terroir”).
How to describe this little delight? Simultaneously one of the strangest, most endearing, and surprisingly useful wine books that you’re ever likely to encounter, How to Drink is a translation of Latin epic poem written in a sort of ancient Greek style by Vincent Obsopoeus, first released in the 1500s in Bavaria.
If that combo isn’t odd enough for you, the entire thing is meant as a treatise on how to drink without succumbing to the pitfalls of drunkenness; and, if you do happen to get drunk and/or get involved in drinking games, how to manage those scenarios, as well. I am, I suspect, failing miserably right now in trying to relate then cleverness and readability of this updated, modern translation of the work of a talented poet of whom you probably have never heard before… just buy it, you won’t be disappointed!
Never has a wine book had a subtitle that so accurately describes its contents. A collection of musings from longtime wine writer Jamie Goode, who has a PhD in plant biology and, therefore, tends to do his best work when explaining wine in more scientific terms. Is this gathering of wine advice tidbits his best book? Probably not, but it is his most accessible. Somehow, despite a premise that could easily have devolved into arrogant mansplaining, and a penchant for utilizing sentences so short that it suggests a phobia against punctuation, this book manages to come off as friendly, informed, and useful.
Full disclosure: I was asked by the author, who I was lucky enough to meet and hang out with during some of my wine media travels, to provide an endorsement for this book (which also happens to share the same publishing house as my recent books). So with that in mind, I’ll refrain from a detailed review, and only tell you in a friendly way that if you’re in the market for a cookbook that has wine at the center of its beating spiritual heart, this is one to put high on your list. The style is accessibly straightforward and knowledgeable, the layout and photos are excellent, and the recipes look (to my untrained eye, anyway), pretty damned delicious.
I taste a bunch-o-wine (technical term for more than most people). So each week, I share some of my wine reviews (mostly from samples) and tasting notes in a “mini-review” format.
They are meant to be quirky, fun, and (mostly) easily-digestible reviews of (mostly) currently available wines (click here for the skinny on how to read them), and are presented links to help you find them, so that you can try them out for yourself. Cheers!
Add yet another locale to the list of gorgeous places that I’m supposed to be visiting, but the opportunity for which has been heinously denied to me due to the USA’s botched response to the current pandemic: Fort Ross Vineyard on the Sonoma Coast.
My experience with FRV, as has been the new normal lately, comes via media samples and an on-line live tasting, courtesy of Fort Ross Vineyard & Winery, and their winemaker, Jeff Pisoni. But dammmmmmn, this is the kind of place that I would rather be feeling under my toes.
FRV, according to Pisoni, is “such a remarkable site, it’s almost intimidating. It’s just a very interesting place. The vineyard is the style.” Founded by a South African couple (owners Lester and Linda Schwartz) in the late 1980s, this is the kind of vineyard that exists due to sheer force of will. Located in a sparsely populated area with few vineyards, and taking four years to prepare for plating vines, UC Davis believed that the spot – roughly 1600 feet in elevation; located above the fog line; and at one measly mile from the Pacific, closer to the ocean than any other vineyard in all of California) was simply too cold to properly ripen grapes.
UC Davis was, of course, very wrong, and FRV now stands as one of the most visually striking and vinously impressive places growing Pinot Noir in the U.S. To wit…
A newer label, blending estate with some purchased fruit, and meant to be the gateway drug into the FRV Pinot style, this is brighter than a clear summer’s day, as juicy as freshly-picked wild red berries, and as energetic as an un-grounded electrical outlet. You also get a lot of aromatic complexity even for an ambitious “entry level” price as this one, including plums, cloves, tea, saline, flowers, and tart cranberry. Delicious stuff.
The main FRV wine, blended form about six blocks growing four different Pinot clones, and meant to be a balanced showcase of the vineyard’s “very narrow growing window” as Pisoni described it. Dried herbs, spices, forest floor, tea leaves, dark berries, licorice, all with lithe structure, depth, and class… it’s a hard glass to put down.
Utilizing fruit from two of the highest elevation FRV blocks, this red brings the savory. While structured, there is lovely richness and a crap-ton of intense spiced plum action, salinity, and sexiness, along with dried lavender, bramble, blue plums, Bing cherries. A red that gives you bedroom eyes.
Sourced from a single block consisting 100% of the Calera clone (whose origins at the site are, apparently, of dubious legality), where the land is steep, the yields low, and the fruit seemingly very damned good. With mulberry, juicy black cherry, dried citrus peel, sandalwood, Christmas spices, and a long-ass wild raspberry-filled finish, this is an insanely balanced, supple, and structured PN. It brings the muscle, but doesn’t forsake technique or fanfare.
Interestingly, this wine’s namesake road is notorious for being where the Wells Fargo stagecoach would get robbed. Despite the lofty sticker price, this PN won’t leave you feeling fleeced in the slightest: think boysenberry, beet root, cocoa, earth, black raspberry, baking spices, and boldness. With this site being on well-drained, gravelly-loam soils that are within the fog line and sit quite close to the Pacific, the fruit sees somewhat cooler conditions, supposedly responsible for this wine’s dense, meaty, grippy, and powerful mouthfeel. Hella good, and should age with grace.
A library selection from Pisoni’s first vintage with FRV (which he described as “a really great year”), this Pinot is still fruity, with lifted aromatics, lots of red plums, raspberries, currants, forest floor, and spices. The palate shows maturity, and floral overtones, along with hints of cocoa, grilled orange peel, and enough umami to stock a Japenese restaurant’s kitchen. It’s drinking wonderfully; too bad you’re unlikely to find it (don’t hate me!).
I taste a bunch-o-wine (technical term for more than most people). So each week, I share some of my wine reviews (mostly from samples) and tasting notes in a “mini-review” format.
They are meant to be quirky, fun, and (mostly) easily-digestible reviews of (mostly) currently available wines (click here for the skinny on how to read them), and are presented links to help you find them, so that you can try them out for yourself. Cheers!
First, they’re fans of lagare foot-treading their grapes, an effort that is full of, well, effort. Next, when they do use basket presses, they’re covered in a specially approved blue paint that has to be reapplied annually. They’ve gone all-in on the ancient Alentejo tradition of aging wine in talha (clay amphora), topped off with olive oil as a seal against oxidation. And when I say “all-in,” I mean all-in: José de Sousa houses 114 amphora, most larger than a fully-grown adult human male, some dating back to the 1800s (the talha, I mean, not the male), and each requiring stirring twice per day when full, to keep them from potentially exploding. Finally, they have to contend with finding the occasional Stone Age era relic on the property; some of which, according to winemaker and vineyard manager Paulo Amaral, were worshiped as phallic symbols in ancient times.
Also according to Amaral (who I met during my media jaunt to Alentejo last year), winemaking utilizing clay pots adds additional headaches that aren’t easily remedied: primarily, the fact that it’s simply not easy to get a replacement when they do happen to explode. Crafting talha is largely a lost art, especially in Portugal, where newly crafted pots are both expensive and their durability not yet time-tested. Replacements can be found in Italy and Georgia, but they don’t come cheap…
Are the results worth the extra efforts? In a word: yep.
Named after a cork tree forest, this lively blend of Antão Vaz, Verdelho, and Sauvignon Blanc from clay soils is chock-full of lemon grass, pear, just-ripe tropical fruits, and white flower action. It’s lovely stuff, textural, fresh, and likely to turn heads and quickly empty glasses at your next cookout.
Taking its name from old-style grape sorting tables, you’d be hard-pressed to tell that this mineral, spicy, and bright mix of Syrah, Aragonez, and Alicante Bouschet has 9 g/l of residual sugar. It comes off as fresh as a daisy, with a grip, pepper, blue flowers, and possessing a distinctive chill-it-for-lunch-on-the-bistro feel.
Including Grand Noir, Trincadeira, and Aragonez, this tinto comes off as pure, fresh, spicy, and vibrant (sensing a pattern here?), with red and black cherry flavors, and great persistence. There is power here, and there are dusty tannins or sure, but despite those factors it’s a total foodie wine, and one that’s punching above its list price’s weight class.
Same blend as the Tinto, only adding a bit of Moreto, and undergoing foot-treading and some time in old wood chestnut barrels and clay. Already on the oxidative side, with baked red fruits and tons of spices, the palate feels younger than the nose: vibrant, edgy, and textural. Tangy red fruits wrap things up on the finish of this unique sipper that’s still a crowd-pleaser despite its eccentricities.
Another foot-trodden blend of Grand Noir, Trincadeira, and Aragonez, but coming from older vines and spending time in all new French oak, this one is young, very long, and very fresh. Chewy, concentrated, big, and deep, the fruits are red and black, the aromas herbal, floral, and woody, the overall feeling expertly crafted and delicious.
Last week, I had the fortunate honor to be the guest on Leslie LIVE!, the new lockdown-inspired live broadcast by fellow wine judge and author Leslie Sbrocco. I’ve had the fortunate honor to have known and judged wine competitions with the lovely Leslie for a decade, and she wrote a touching and thoughtful endorsement of the Wine Taster’s Guide (for which I still owe her several cocktails!).
You can check out our wild, woolly, and wine-soaked interview on Instagram, in which we drink (of course!) and go into details about my recently-released books – if anything, it’s a brief respite from arguing about politics online!
Speaking of the books, a brief update on that front: they managed to spend several weeks among the top ten new releases in Amazon’s Wine Tasting category, with reviews well above 4.5 stars, so thanks to yo all! Also, if you’re signed up for Kindle Unlimited, you can already read the Wine Taster’s Guide for an additional cost of $0.00 (you lucky dog, you).
I taste a bunch-o-wine (technical term for more than most people). So each week, I share some of my wine reviews (mostly from samples) and tasting notes in a “mini-review” format.
They are meant to be quirky, fun, and (mostly) easily-digestible reviews of (mostly) currently available wines (click here for the skinny on how to read them), and are presented links to help you find them, so that you can try them out for yourself. Cheers!
J Wilkes 2017 Chardonnay Santa Maria Valley This exemplifies the ever-evolving style of Central Coast Chardonnay. A deft balance of vibrant white fruit with decadent hazelnut creaminess. Apricot, cardamom, […]
On the border of Bolgheri, within sight of the legendary Sassicaia and equally-legendary Ornellaia, nestled in Tuscany’s gorgeous and golden-lit rolling hills, protected by surrounding forests, sits the former horse ranch and now premium wine producer Tenuta Sette Cieli.
I know that those rolling Sette Cieli hills are gorgeous because I’ve seen them. Over Zoom video.
I was supposed to see them in person, mind you, on a media jaunt, but the USA has so royally f*cked its response to the Covid-19 pandemic that I couldn’t legally take them up on their offer to visit even if I wanted to risk the travel at the moment. And considering how good there wares are, I juuuuust might have entertained the notion. They say that happiness is a choice, and so I’m going to just choose to be happy, rather than give in to the red-faced abject rage that fills my dark heart whenever I briefly consider the fact that I should have been standing in the golden sunlit on those hills, feeling the clay and limestone vineyard soils beneath my feet, and enjoying the sea breezes wafting in over the vines from a mere 12 kilometers away…
Not an in-person media tasting with Tenuta Sette Cieli
First, a bit of context: according to Ambrogio Cremona Ratti, Tenuta Sette Cieli’s Owner and Brand Ambassador, the estate owes its creation, at least in part, to the miracles of modern science. The house on the estate dates to the 1300s, and was abandoned for about five decades after the swampy lower elevations in Bolgheri were finally drained, effectively ending malaria in the area and engendering a migration of the local population to the easier-to-farm plains from the harder-to-work hillsides (theirs being about 400 meters in elevation). Tenuta Sette Cieli’s vines are hand-tended, a testament to the difficulty of farming this rocky locale.
“Malbec is a little more delicate in Tuscany,” cautioned Ratti during our video call, “but also rewarding.” This blend of Malbec, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Merlot (in roughly thirds) is a deep, powerful, and tangy homage to the fact that Bolgheri enjoys conditions similar to those of Bordeaux, where those varieties originated. Ripe and structured, with black olive and tobacco notes galore, this is a red that strikes a unique tone: French in spirit, Italian in style, and Mediterranean in conviviality.
“You cannot make a great Cabernet Franc every year,” noted Elena Pozzolini, Tenuta Sette Cieli’s CEO and Winemaker since 2012. “Don’t force anything.” Spending two years in barrel and another two in bottle, this 100% Cab Franc brings a lot of vinous kung-fu. Earthy, spicy, and built around a tangy red fruit core, there are blue plums, crushed violets, dried herbs, blackcurrants, and wild, brambly berries all in friendly competition for your attention. Vibrant, with grip, there’s ruggedness here, and wildness, and great scaffolding in its tannic structure. And while it’s great now, it probably will be even better in a few years. Or when imbibed on the Tenuta Sette Cieli property in person… not that I’ll know what that’s like anytime too soon…
, you can already read the Wine Taster’s Guide for an additional cost of $0.00 (you lucky dog, you).
