Gewürztraminer- and My Search for the Elusive Lychee

There are some wines that are said to be identifiable in a blind tasting based definitively on a single aromatic “tell”.  The theory is, if you smell X – the wine cannot be anything other than Y.  So, for example, if you get a distinct petrol aroma from a wine – you’re very likely drinking German Riesling.  (BTW – “petrol” is the Brits fancy name for gasoline).  Similarly, if you smell wet wool you’re almost certainly sipping Vouvray (Chenin Blanc from the Loire Valley).  And if you’re getting lychee fruit on the nose – it’s said to be Gewürztraminer.

Now, I know what petrol and wet wool smell like – but lychee?  I’d never even heard of this fruit previously, let alone seen, smelled or tasted it.  And since you rarely run across a tasting note for Gewürztraminer without seeing “lychee” as a primary descriptor, I set out to find it and give it a taste test of my own.  (Note:  I do not plan on doing the same when I post on Sauvignon Blanc, where one of the most common descriptors is cat pee.)

Apparently finding lychees is easier said than done.  After searching for a few weeks at several grocery stores and smaller boutique markets in my area, I remained lycheeless.  One produce guy told me that they sometimes got lychee in stock, but not frequently.  Another said they didn’t have lychee but they did have white peaches.  I asked him if those smelled or tasted like lychee and his response was “no, not really.”  Mmmmkaaaaaaaaaaay – I’ll pass.

I’d finally given up all lychee hope and figured I’d just have to drink Gewürztraminer and remain in the dark about the mysterious fruit.  But then, what should appear before my very eyes  . . .

Lychee

During one of my thrice weekly trips to the grocery store I spied it!  Hidden among the other “freak fruits” like Kiwano and Pepino Melons was a small selection of lychees.  I excitedly (seriously) scooped up some and raced home to taste them.

After first having to google how the hell to open the fruit, Hubs and I cracked the shell and dug into the lychee.  And, perhaps not surprisingly, it tasted like Gewürztraminer.  It was incredibly tart and sweet at the same time with a bold tropical and floral flavor.  It was intensely flavorful – almost obnoxiously so.  Which is basically how I feel about Gewürztraminer.

Enough about Lychees – Let’s Talk about Grapes.  Gewürztraminer is grown all over the world – from Northeastern Italy, to my beloved Washington state, to New Zealand.  The name, not surprisingly, has German roots (“Gewürz” means spice in German), but in fact represents only a very small percentage of plantings in Germany (my research shows in the neighborhood of 1-5%). The most significant plantings of Gewürztraminer are in the Alsace region of France with approximately 8,000 acres planted to the grape.  And in Alsace, they drop the umlaut (and you, dear reader, can drop that little wine factoid at your next tasting to impress your friends and neighbors!).

Along with lychee, other aromas and flavors found in Gewürz are typically roses, honey, grapefruit, gingerbread and an assortment of exotic spices.  Gewürztraminer can be made in a variety of styles – from dry to sweet.  The latter are often labelled either “Vendanges Tardives” or “Selections de Grains Nobles” – both of which are late harvested grapes after the sugars have had additional time to concentrate on the vine.

Prior to my lychee hunt, I’d purchased a few bottles of Gewürztraminer and had Hubs blind pour me a tasting of the three.  Here are my condensed tasting notes – sans lychee descriptors because I hadn’t been able to find it yet! Bottles

Villa Wolf 2016 Gewürztraminer, Pfalz, Germany. (11.5% abv)

This wine was by far the lightest colored, lightest bodied and zippiest of the three.  It was the least like a “classic” Gewürztraminer should taste like – and it was my favorite. 🙂  Refreshing with lots of pink grapefruit, crisp minerality and citrus.  In general, the Pfalz region of Germany is known for producing lighter styled Gewürztraminer than Alsace.  Which is something I’ll keep in mind for the future . . .

Louis SIPP 2013 Nature’S Gewurztraminer, Alsace, France. (13% abv)

This Gewürz had a lot going on with rich aromas of honeysuckle, melon, salinity and spices.  I also thought I was getting smoke on the nose here – but this probably because Hubs was messing around outside with his new smoker and the windows were open (hmmm…I’m getting a very strong sense of hickory!!). :-/  Each time I smelled or sipped I’d find something else in the glass.  The wine was fuller bodied than the first with much lower acidity.  Based on the producer’s website the “Nature’S” wording on the label means that the wine was made from organically farmed grapes and certified by ECOCERT (one of the largest organic certification organizations in the world).  Overall, a very interesting wine.

Seppi Landmann 2013 Gewurztraminer Zinnkoepflé Grand Cru, Alsace, France. (13% abv)

This last wine was the ripest and richest of the three with big ol’ aromas of perfume, sandalwood, tropical fruits and crushed pine needles (which I thought was odd, but I was definitely smelling this!).  As a Grand Cru, this wine is theoretically at the top of the quality pyramid as these vineyard sites are recognized for their extraordinary terroirs.  There are 51 Grand Cru sites in Alsace, yet only around 4% of all Alsace wine produced is Grand Cru.  This Gewurz would undoubtedly be considered the “best” of the three – case in point: Wine Enthusiast gave it a 93.

However, it was personally my least favorite.  I could appreciate its complexity and ageability – at 5 years and going strong with intense aromas and flavors (note: most Gewürz are meant to drink within a few years).  But it just was not my style.  I prefer something a bit more crisp and restrained – which Gewürztraminer just isn’t ever going to be.

For more information about this grape – visit my outline on Gewurztraminer.

 

Sanders and Lychee
Hmmm . . . smells like Gewurztraminer!

 

 

Barbera

I’m a Pacific Northwest wine girl.   Give me my Willamette Pinots and Walla Walla Syrahs all day long – they’re my woobie, my comfort zone, my home.  Outside of the United States, I have put a stake in the ground in France.  I’ve passed my French Wine Scholar exam, been inducted into the Confrerie des Chevaliers du Tastevin, spent two weeks tasting in the French countryside, and stocked my wine fridge with more grower Champagne than I care to admit.

All of this brings me to Italy.

I don’t know much about Italian wines and I sure the hell am not comfortable with the ungodly number of DOCGs (74), DOCs (332) and IGTs (118). I mean, seriously, that is – to quote Hubs most eloquently – a “metric shit ton” of information for a single wine producing country. So to get me out of my comfort zone and expand my palate I took a deep breath and signed up for the Italian Wine Scholar exam.

Unlike the French Wine Scholar exam in which I was studying – for the most part –  regions and grapes I at least had some degree of comfort with, with the IWS I feel like I’m starting from scratch.  Sure, I know about Dolcetto and Nebbiolo – but Freisa or Bosco?  Truth be told, before the IWS course I’d never even heard of these grapes!  Thankfully the good folks at the Wine Scholar Guild graciously indicated “need-to-know” areas in the textbook so I’m not cramming my brain with minor details that won’t be on the exam. IWS know this

My primary reasons for pursuing the IWS certification are twofold: (1) learn more about Italy in preparation for my WSET Diploma (starts in May!); and (2) get out of my comfort zone and expand my palate.  I definitely tend to gravitate towards Syrah and Pinot Noir with regularity . . . too much so to be honest.  If I can discover a few other go-to wines during my IWS studies, that would make all of these outlines and flashcards worthwhile (I think).  Also, by almost every conceivable measure Italy is the largest wine producing country in the world – so, you know, I probably ought to be conversant about their grapes!

Fortunately, early on in my IWS studies I “re-discovered” Barbera which was a little like seeing an old friend on your first day at a new school.  I’ve had it several times before, but always socially, never as part of my academic pursuits, which I honestly think makes me appreciate it even more.  It’s a classic, “everybody loves a comeback” grape.

While Barbera’s exact origin is unknown, it’s believed to have existed in the Monferrato region of Piemonte (Northwest Italy) since the 7th century.  So essentially, about a thousand years before Cabernet Sauvignon came into being!  Currently, Italy is home to almost 85% of the world’s Barbera plantings with approximately 52,600 total acres.  To put this into perspective, Italy’s Barbera production is roughly equivalent to every single grape grown in the entire state of Washington (see “metric shit ton” reference above).

Barbera used to be produced en masse and hailed as “the people’s wine”, with much of it being – to quote Miles – “quaffable, but far from transcendent.” Over the past 20+ years, Barbera has had a dramatic upgrade in its image and is no longer constantly playing second (or third) fiddle to other Italian red varietals. Producers are planting Barbera on more prized vineyard sites. Yields are being kept in check by careful pruning. And finally, to balance its crazy high acidity and diminished tannic structure, more producers are opting to age Barbera in smaller oak barrels as opposed to the traditional large neutral casks. This often results in a wine that has a layer of spicy complexity, mellowed acidity and a delicious combination of lively red fruit with vanilla notes.

When I was visiting my Dad during the holidays, we went on our traditional wine-tasting afternoon in the Red Mountain AVA (which he is fortunate enough to live practically next door to).  While at one of our favorites, I noticed an older vintage of Barbera on their shelves.  Knowing that there’s less than 100 acres of this grape grown in the entire state, I was curious what my home state’s version of this wine would taste like compared to the Italian classic.  Here are my thoughts:

Kiona BarberaKiona Vineyards 2010 Barbera, Red Mountain, WA.  14.5% abv. Medium ruby-garnet colored.  The aromatics make me think of a delicate Cabernet – red currants and an almost vegetal note (I tend to get this with a lot of Red Mountain wines).  This seriously smells like our friend Paul’s bourbon soaked cherries that he gave us a few years ago and we haven’t actually tried yet because I’m afraid I’ll be on my lips after having just one!  Lots of secondary and tertiary aromas here as well – spice, charred oak, coffee, sandalwood.  The wine is medium bodied and acidity is definitely pushing high.  There’s a little bit of heat from the alcohol, noticeable but not overwhelming.

Cantina del Pino 2015 Barbera, Barbera d’Alba, Italy. 14.% abv. Color here runs a little more ruby-purple.  This wine smells pretty – roses, black raspberries and cherries, pomegranate, but the aromatics are not nearly as strong or complex as the Kiona.  On the palate, lots of the same juicy fruits with round/smooth tannins.  This wine is very straightforward – it’s tasty, but there’s just not a lot going onBarbera d'Alba.

While I enjoyed both, I surprised myself by preferring the Red Mountain Barbera over the classic Barbera d’Alba.  The d’Alba was simple – very sour fruit driven with not a whole lot else going on.  Nonetheless, both tasted delicious with my pizza!  Barbera pairs wonderfully with a variety of foods – tomato based dishes like pasta or pizza, BBQ chicken or charcuterie.

Try it out for yourself – and check out the outline on Barbera!

 

Pinot Blanc

After several wine-related excursions to the Walla Walla area, I finally had the chance to eat at Brasserie Four last month. I’ve been wanting to try this place for years because of their focus on French wine and food – two things I love. 🙂 And honestly, even when I’m tasting in one of my favorite wine regions (which Walla Walla is), it’s always nice to give my palate a break from drinking those wines.  Although, I don’t recall feeling that way when I visited Champagne . . .  but I digress.

Brasserie Four doesn’t have a traditional wine list, what they DO have is a large retail selection in the back of the restaurant where you can pick out your bottle(s). After spending several minutes perusing the shelves and cooler, we grabbed an Alsatian Pinot Blanc to start, and a Morgon to have with dinner.

Brasserie Four
Brasserie Four’s amazing wine selection!

The Morgon was earthy and funky, with dirty cherries and a black minerality to it. Super interesting, and paired amazingly well with my Beef Bourguignon. The Alsatian Pinot Blanc was . . . well, all I really recall was that it was apple-y. :-/  It was perfectly pleasant to sip on before dinner with our cheese board, but frankly it was underwhelming.

Pinot Blanc is probably my least favorite member of the Pinot family. Unlike its relatives with their complexity and wide range – cranberries to fall leaves for Pinot Noir, minerality to citrus for Pinot Gris – Pinot Blanc often to me just tastes like adult apple juice. Not that that’s a BAD thing, it’s just very one-note and boring. It’s a very meh wine. Pinot Blanc

I’d love to try one that knocked my socks off, or just made one come loose a little bit. But thus far, I haven’t. Granted, I’ve been limited to Pinot Blancs from Oregon and Alsace, and maybe an unmemorable Pinot Bianco from Italy.

I’m not adverse to continuing my quest, but after researching this varietal – there does seem to be a rather general consensus that the grape is not all that thrilling. In fact, Jancis Robinson calls it “useful, rather than exciting.”  Here’s a bit more on Pinot Blanc.

Pinotage

Poor Pinotage. Despite being the offspring of one of the most elegant and revered grapes in the world (Pinot Noir), it has had an uphill battle pretty much since its inception less than a century ago.

After its creation by crossing Pinot Noir with Cinsault, the grape was largely ignored – its home country had much bigger issues to deal with than the wine industry. Once apartheid finally ended, and trade sanctions were removed, many wine producers focused on high volume/low quality Pinotage wines that flooded the market – frequently smelling like paint. :-/ Pinotage has been trying to overcome that reputation for several years now . . . and might finally be making some strides.

I’ve had limited exposure to Pinotage, but I must admit – I rather like it. It stands out from the mass of “Bordeaux style blends” that are overly prevalent in many markets. The fruit isn’t ripe and jammy, but more charred and smoked. Like you left black cherry skewers on the barbeque for too long.

Pinotage

Despite its uniqueness, not many consumers are keen about its often distinct aromas of burnt rubber and tar. When I smell Pinotage, I’m taken back to circa 1979 when I used to ride my banana seated bike past my crush’s house all the time. One day, my corduroy pants got caught in the spokes and I crashed right in front of his house. Pinotage reminds me of the hour I laid there in the street (ok, it was probably only ten minutes until his sister came outside to help me) and all I smelled was rubber and asphalt, and a hint of sweaty embarrassment. :-/

Compared to most major grape varieties, Pinotage is still in its infancy. Others have had hundreds of years to work out their kinks and improve. As more critics start to accept Pinotage, and even promote it (just look at how many “Give Pinotage a Chance!” articles have come out recently!), I’m optimistic that this grape will find its place in the wine world.

Until then, here’s the Pinotage outline.

Marsanne

I’ve loved white Rhône blends since well before I learned that’s what these wines were actually called. For those of you in that camp now, white Rhône blends (or “Rhône-style” blends if from somewhere other than the actual Rhône Valley) are primarily blends of Viognier, Marsanne and Roussanne. Sometimes lesser known grapes like Clairette or Grenache Blanc are added – particularly in the Southern Rhône.

White Rhône wines range from zesty with flavors of bright citrus to full bodied with floral and honey notes. The higher the percentages of Viognier and Marsanne in the blend, the more likely the wine falls into the latter category.

I first discovered Viognier around 2005 and remember being thrilled to find an alternative to my usual Chardonnay. (I can’t be the only one who started out pronouncing it Vie-og-knee-er, can I?) 😉 And while this remains a favorite varietal of mine, I’ve recently become more intrigued by its blending partner – Marsanne.

I’ve sipped on a couple of white Rhône-style blends lately, and got to thinking how perfect these wines are for this time of year. While I love my zippy summer porch pounders, I’m wanting something with a little more weight and texture right now. And these hit the spot:

Rôtie Cellars 2016 ‘Southern White’, Walla Walla Valley. 12.5% abv. Blend of 50% Viognier, 35% Roussanne and 15% Marsanne. Tons of fruits going on here – ripe peach and apricot on the nose, baked lemon square and peach nectar on the palate. Crisp acidity, maybe from the cooler Walla Walla climate or the nice percentage of Roussanne in the blend.

Cornerstone Cellars 2016, El Dorado Marsanne/Roussanne, David Girard Vineyard, California. 14.1% abv. Blend of 47% Marsanne, 47% Roussanne and 6% Viognier. Beautiful floral, peach and honeydew melon aromas. Rich and weighty mouthfeel. Slight bitter note on the finish. Not a shy wine.  This would definitely be a go-to winter white for me.

Unfortunately, it’s rather challenging to find single varietal Marsanne wines – the grape is usually a supporting player to the more well-known Viognier. Nonetheless, it does make for a delicious blending partner, or solo artist, if you can find it (Rôtie Cellars often puts out a good one)! Here’s more about Marsanne.