Catavino » Wine tasting descriptors

Judging the Quality of a Wine by How Much of It you Drink

Oliver Styles — Sat, 02 Jul 2011 11:12:11 +0000

Several years ago top wine writer Ch’ng Poh Tiong wrote a piece in his Decanter magazine column that basically said that you could (perhaps ‘should’) judge the quality of a wine by how much of it you drank. If your glass was emptied relatively quickly (the abuse of alcohol is dangerous for your health, enjoy wine moderately), you could be pretty sure it was a good – maybe a great wine. If you struggled to finish a glass, something was obviously not right.

It’s obvious, right? But it’s an approach I like. It’s an approach to rating and drinking wines that works (and yes, it works for tasting – i.e. spitting out – wines too) and is immediately quantifiable.

So I used it with two Prieto Picudos from Tierra de Leon, that quasi-unknown region that, for people outside Spain, sits between the Galician mountains and the Castillan plain (where the rain, apparently, mainly stays). Both wines are from the same producer, Gordonzello – a very big winery in region – the first a 2008 Tinto called Peregrino Mil100 (the label sports the Leonese lion, commemorating 1,100 years since the foundation of the Kingdom of León), the second a 2007 Crianza: Peregrino 14 (the fourteen stands for 14 months in barrel). (Photo Credit: Rob Warde)

Some winos will sometimes be heard to tell a captive audience that Mencia is Spain’s Pinot Noir. Which is rubbish. Spain’s Cabernet Franc, perhaps. I’d controversially say it’s more like Spain’s Merlot but neither grape comes out well from that comparison so we should probably leave Mencia out of it. What I’m getting it is that Prieto has far more claim to be Spain’s Pinot – much more natural acidity, smaller berries (shaped almost like a tiny rugby ball), and just as difficult to manage. Where León’s Prieto can trump Burgundy’s Pinot is in vine age. Yes, in some small, dust-blown areas almost forgotten by humanity, there are vines older than your mum. Some people – stubborn old viticulturalists and dutiful co-operatives (some of whose bunker-grey, brutalist buildings were designed, it seems, by the love child of Albert Speer and Konstantin Melnikov) still harvest this almost unknown grape. It is a shame that, as economic issues start to bite into the expanding market for Spanish wines abroad, Prieto Picudo will unlikely follow on from Mencia’s successful introduction to the likes of the US market.

But, as ever, I digress.

It’s clear, from Poh Tiong’s method, that I preferred the Peregrino 14 Crianza. If Prieto is like Pinot, use of oak is judicious and the Mil100 is just too oaky right now to be anything like a pleasure to drink. If you like your wine to smell like the aftermath of a forest fire, by all means get yourself a case. You’ll have to deal with the mighty oak tannins on the finish too. Which is a shame because both wines have pretty darned decent fruit (after a day open, the Mil100 certainly shows it on the palate, but the oak still takes over on the finish). Will the oak ever soften out? I don’t know. My instinct is that it won’t, but I would (for once) sincerely hope to be proved wrong in 20 years’ time. The Peregrino 14 Crianza is much more amiable. It’s vintage wasn’t great (2007 was not good for much of Spain) and it is definitely quite funky on the nose. The best way I can describe the palate is to imagine a bloody steak dropped onto straw and the whole wicker/wagyu mass put into a blender and strained. I apologise to vegetarians but it tastes like bloody steak and barn floor. Which I quite like.

On the Poh Tiong scoring chart, Peregrino 14 beats Mil100 by seven glasses.

Gordonzello, Peregrino, Mil100, Prieto Picudo Tinto, 2008

Very smoky woody nose when first poured. This dissipates a little with time and shows a classy, perfumed French oak, spices and red fruit nose. There is more wood on the palate although after a day of being open, it was showing some nice, juicy fruit (which suggests that if you have this wine and open it today, you should decant it). The finish is dominated by the oak and their tannins, which is a shame because within all the ‘classy’ oak is some really nice fruit that should be allowed to compete. I hope against my cynicism that it will.

Gordonzello, Peregrino 14, Prieto Picudo Crianza, 2007

Also has some oaky aromas but this comes with nice hints of cherry and red fruits and some funky, rustic Prieto notes. On the palate: nice, supple fruit with gentle weight and a good, cherry fruit finish. On first opening, the oak seems a little heavy-handed but give it some time and air and the fruit starts to sing. Yes, this is a funky style of Prieto that is meaty and whiffy but it’s also juicy and drinkable.

Cheers,

Oliver Styles

A Foreigner’s Guide to Spanish Cheese: Mixed / Mixto (Part 5 of 5)

Rick Fisher — Mon, 04 Apr 2011 13:06:34 +0000

Our journey has taken us through mountainous terrain and spacious pastures; it has introduced us to the sprightly goat, the demure cow, and the helplesssheep. We have also eaten some of the most amazing cheeses produced in the world today. Our final gaze turns to those cheeses produced from a combination of two or three of these animals. (flickr photo by paul goyette)

Greater than 50% of the cheese produced and consumed in Spain is made from a mixture of cow’s, goat’s, and/or sheep’s milk. The largest quantity of the milk comes from cows with the other two being blended in to shape the outcome of the finished product. Typically, the greater the amount of the cow’s milk the more simple and less expensive the cheese. Cow’s milk is added for mass and flavor, while goat’s milk adds whiteness to the color as well as a tangy and tart flavor. Finally, sheep’s milk normally provides more flavor and richness to the cheese.

Mixed milk cheeses are produced primarily in Central Spain and Asturias (the north-central area near the coast) with a few cheeses produced around Cataluña, along the Eastern coast (the Levant), and among the Canary Islands. In 1987, in an effort to standardize some incongruent practices, the Ministry of Agriculture set regulations for three mixed-milk cheeses: Hispánico, Ibérico, and Mesta. These regulations designated the minimum milk content for each of the three cheeses. Ibérico is the best known and most widely consumed in Spain (I have only seen Ibérico in the U.S.).

This cheese tasting was a bit more unique than the others. Although the single variety cheeses provided diversity amongst the types, the mixed milk cheeses exhibit a vastness of depth and character that only cheeses produced from a variety of milks can turn out. Our tasting takes us from the light and savory Taramundi to the depths of flavor experienced in the Cabrales blue-veined cheese. Five absolutely wonderful wines accompanied these cheeses and all provided extremely enjoyable and delicious pairings. Bring along a hunk of crusty bread and sliced fruit and sit back and enjoy.

Mixed Milk Cheeses:

Ibérico: Produced in Central Spain (and D.O.P. designated), Ibérico is a pasteurized hard cheese closely resembling (and often mistaken for) Manchego. By law, it must be made from a minimum 50% cow’s milk, 30% goat’s milk, and 10%, sheep’s milk. It is aged for roughly six to 12 months and has a light yellow color this slightly oily in texture. Ibérico is mild, yet aromatic, exhibiting the softness of the cow’s milk along with the grassy and herbaceous notes of the sheep and goat milk. It is a great all-around cheese which paired nicely with all of the wines.

Campo Montalbán: Much like Ibérico, Campo Montalbán is a blend of the three milks. This cheese was actually considered Manchego (which contains only sheep’s milk) up until 1985 when the regulatory board decided to designate Manchego unique status. It has a very similar look, but the taste is quite different because of the blend of the three milks. Semi-firm in texture and aged for three months the cheese has a slightly tangy and buttery essence. As with the Iberíco cheese, the Campo Montalbán also paired nicely with all five wines. (Flickr photo by jlastras)

Taramundi: A blend of cow and goat milk, Taramundi is a semi-cured artisan cheese hailing from the remote mountains of Asturias. Produced for over 1000 years, Taramundi is cured for a minimum of 60 days. The cow’s milk adds a buttery texture and taste as well as helping to keep acidity at low levels. This cheese is not spicy and has toasted hints alongside fresh, country meadow flavors. The Taramundi paired beautifully with the two white wines and the lighter red wines (La Nevera and Chateldon).

Valdeón: Produced in the Picos de Europa Mountains in Castilla y León from either pasteurized goat and sheep milk or cow and goat milk, Valdeón is a pasty, fatty blue cheese. It is the milder of the Spanish bleu cheeses and is rich and creamy with a hint of tang and sweetness (partly from the chestnut leaves in which it is wrapped). This cheese is made year-round and is an extremely aromatic cheese. Valdeón is has lesser intensity due to the fact that the caves in which is ages are slightly drier. Valdeón also carries a D.O.P. designation. In addition to the cheese itself I was also able to taste a Crema de Queso Valdeón. This cheese was perfect on crusty bread or sliced fruit. I particularly like the two Priorat wines and the Penedés red with this cheese.

Cabrales: The King of the Spanish blues, Cabrales is also produced in the Picos de Europa Mountains in eastern Asturias and carries D.O.P. status. Made with cow’s milk and either or both of goat and sheep milk, Cabrales is the best known of the Spanish blue cheeses. The cheese is slow-aged in cold, damp, and humid caves. They are turned periodically during this process until the entire wheel has been grown with mold (naturally). This process normally takes a minimum of two months. I was also able to enjoy a Crema de Cabrales with is a creamed blend of Cabrales cheese and Asturian cider. This cheese was also incredibly paired with the Priorat wines.

Wine Pairing Recommendations:

This was an extremely enjoyable pairing due to the considerable diversity of both the cheeses and wines presented. Five wines (two white and three red) accompanied the tasting and each provided a unique and delicious experience. I would highly recommend any of these wines. (Check out Wine Searcher or your local retailer for more information on where to find them.)

2009 Ochoa (Navarra): {70% Viura, 30% Chardonnay} From the vast wine-producing region of Navarra comes this wine fermented in stainless steel tanks. Light straw in color, this wine is very aromatic on the nose with smells of melon, tropical fruits, and stone fruits. Medium-bodied and dry, the Ochoa has a medium finish. This light and crisp wine paired particularly well with the earlier cheeses in the tasting.

2009 Odysseus Garnatxa Blanca (Priorat): {100% Garnacha Blanca} Sylvia Puig (the winemaker) has hit a home-run with this wine. Pale yellow in color, this wine exudes aromas of pear, citrus, melon, and minerals. On the palate one tastes stone fruit, ripe apple, and minerals followed by a long finish. Crisp and lightly acidic I must admit this wine (previous vintages as well) is one of my favorite wines. Always consistent, this wine is a crowd-pleaser. (Photo by Rick Fisher)

2008 La Nevera (Navarra): {100% Garnacha} Produced from 60- to 80-year-old vines this Garnarcha-based wine is fermented in stainless steel tanks with no oak aging. Aromas of fresh red and black fruit and a bit of smokiness fill the nose and lead to similar on the palate, specifically raspberry and blueberry. Smooth on the palate with a medium finish.

2003 Chateldon Reserva (Penedes): {100% Cabernet Sauvignon} This wine was quite enjoyable to see a Spanish expression of the single varietal Cabernet Sauvignon. Deep red in the glass with aromas of dried fruit and oak, this wine has a delightfully smooth mouthfeel with flavors of jammy preserves and hints of oak and white pepper.

2008 Akyles (Priorat): {40% Garnatxa Negra & Peluda, 45% Cariñena, 15% Cabernet Sauvignon} This wine is a powerhouse and I absolutely loved it. The fruit is hand-harvested and after fermentation is left in the same barrels and aged for anywhere from 10 to 12 months. This wine is deep crimson in the glass with scents of blackberries, spice, and toffee which lead to flavors of predominantly black fruit laden with minerality. It is extremely well-balanced with mature tannins. Another hit for the Puig family of Priorat. This wine paired particularly well with the stronger cheeses.

Where to find these and other cheeses:

Whole Foods Market – Stores nationwide
Dean & Deluca – NYC stores (ships nationwide)
Murray’s Cheese – NYC stores (ships nationwide)
La Tienda – Virginia store (ships nationwide)
The Spanish Table – West Coast (ships nationwide)
D’España – NYC store (ships nationwide)
La Española – LA store (ships nationwide)

Well, our journey throughout the Spanish countryside is over. I would be remised if I did not thank the many artisan cheese-makers throughout Spain who tirelessly continue the craft and produce some of the world’s finest cheeses. Of course, we cannot forget the goats, sheep, and cows that give their milk so freely (not that they have much choice). To them the world will be forever in debt. Now celebrate Spanish cheese by visiting your local cheese shop and selecting a variety to taste alongside any of the incredible wines described throughout our series.

Part 1: Guide to Spanish Cheese
Part 2: Guide to Spanish Goat/Cabra Cheese
Part 3: Guide to Spanish Cow/Vaca Cheese
Part 4: Guide to Spanish Sheep/Oveja Cheese
Part 5: Guide to Spanish Mixed / Mixto Cheese

¡Buen Provecho!

Rick Fisher

Rioja Reserva, Pandering to the Lowest Common Denominator?

Oliver Styles — Thu, 24 Mar 2011 08:21:47 +0000

It is a fashion, of late, to praise ‘modern’ winemaking and its techniques. Up until very recently – if it isn’t still going on – the argument held that because US wine guru Robert Parker liked a certain style of wine, most wines were made to this standard (Parker wielded great power on behalf of the consumer, so winemakers made wines to please his palate and therefore sold more). Parkerisation, modernisation, globalisation and standardisation of wines became synonyms.

Parker liked new oak and lots of fruit. So wines were made with new oak and lots of fruit. And it was the fashion for people in the wine world to rail against this. But now, while in many areas ideas about what good wine should be have moved on (see, for example, the proponents of Natural Wines), it has become a bit boring to attack ‘modern’ winemaking techniques. So a lot of us have become apologists – we are unwilling to defuse the Parkerised fruit bombs – and we even let them go off in a controlled environment. Even I have done this – my review of El Puntido, on these very pages, would be a prime example.

But what is the point of having an appellation – a strict list of proceedures to be religiously adhered to – if it isn’t to stop this modernisation? Wine, like language, changes.Of course, though, we accept that the person about to drink a Beaujolais Village or a Bordeaux Grand Cru or – as in this case – a Rioja Reserva, should be able to define a few aspects of flavour in these wines. It’s why you wont find Cabernet Sauvignon in Burgundy or Bobal in Rioja or Tempranillo in the Veneto.

But let’s return to new, highly toasted oak? Should that be in Rioja Reserva? As far as I’m concerned, it shouldn’t – or at least the people in charge of setting these appellation standards should ensure it’s kept to a minimum. I understand why consumers like a lot of vanillin and mocha in their wines – even I’m not immune to their charms – but you don’t really want to see your best friend debasing herself in order to be popular. So why cannot a decent Rioja Reserva 2004, namely that from Bodegas Muriel, avoid such an obvious use of new, toasty oak?

Is it to help the consumer on his or her voyage of discovery? Is this how we lure people in to the world of wine: use a lot of friendly trickery before we give them the really dry stuff? I don’t think so. Sure, you can buy Bodegas Muriel’s Reserva in the UK for £9.99 (at the Co-op, if you want to check up on me), but why is it the bosses at the bodega and the boffins at the wine department in the Co-op have so little faith in their customer? The problem isn’t just that the wine is toasted and mocha-like, it’s that it’s hiding some really decent fruit (yes, I found it in the end).

Should we simply always pander to the lowest common denominator? Is this a vision of the future of wines you can get on the shop shelf? Is this a worrying portent that all those anti-Parkerites were right to be scared of a globalisation of wine? Too difficult to tell from just one bottle. I hope it’s not symptomatic.

Bodegas Muriel, Rioja Reserva, 2004

Perhaps the lunar phase is muting the rest of the fruit or bringing the toasted, oaky notes to the fore but a seven year-old wine – a Rioja Reserva to boot – should not smell and taste like a toasted mocha bomb. In a way, it tasted nice (a bit like a caramelly coffee ice-cream) and there is some really lovely fruit in there – all raspberries and red berries with a lovely, fresh, bright finish that – I must admit – sits nicely with the tannins. But why so much toasty oak? It would have been even more enjoyable without.

Cheers,

Oliver Styles

4th Annual NY Wine Expo: Taking a Trip through Portugal’s Wine Regions

Sonia Nolasco — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 15:11:03 +0000

Letting loose wine lovers in a tasting of the size of the New York Wine Expo is like putting a child in the middle of a candy store. It can get ugly. With exactly 760 wines from nearly 200 wineries from around the world, the three-day 4th Annual New York Wine Expo at the Javits Center was packed with folks hungry (thirsty really) for new wine discoveries.

My modus operandi for the day was to get through as many Portuguese wines on the floor as possible. There were about 40 tables in the Wines of Portugal section alone, so I had to pace myself. I also decided to skip over some of the wines I’m quite familiar with—and in many cases love—like Aveleda, Ciconia, Esporao, Defesa and Fado. I couldn’t, however, pass up on Graham’s 20-year-old Tawny Port. It was delicious with subtle notes of butterscotch and nuttiness. Mostly recognized precisely for these types of mouthwatering Port wines, Portugal’s still often undiscovered table wines are ever more exciting to me. The names of the grapes are unusual, hard to figure out, some are synonyms for others, they offer new flavor notes and are full of history—even if this old wine producing country is perceived by some to be an “up and coming” wine region. The truth is that there’s always been good wine in Portugal, but it’s gotten even better and more readily available in the recent past. The trade association viniportugal reports that as of November 2010 exports of Portuguese table wines increased by 30.2% in value and 12.4% in volume from 2009. A big contributor I’m sure has been—finally—a more robust marketing strategy. Hallelujah!

The new wines I discovered at the NY Expo were top notch, but sadly not all are distributed in the U.S. Hopefully their presence at the NY Expo will change that for them (and for consumers like me and you). There was the Lisbon region DFJ wines that included a bottle of Pinot Noir blended with the Portuguese grape Alfrocheiro, which gave it a boost of fruitiness resulting in similarities to the popular single variety (and often expensive) fruit-forward Pinot Noirs from Oregon state. The most delightful surprise of the afternoon was the Douro region Vinhas Da Ciderma whose wines were being poured by its engaging winemaker and owner Monica Figueiredo. These wines, among many other’s left a lasting impression on my palate.

What follows are a handful of Portuguese wines that I would love to get my hands on and pair with a few choice recipes this spring and summer:

DFJ Vinhos (The New Portugal)

In addition to the Pinot Noir and Alfrocheiro blend mentioned above, DFJ had an entire line up of excellent wines, including a 2008 white Alvarinho and Chardonnay un-oaked blend that had body but enough crispness and acidity that both white and red wine drinkers alike would certainly enjoy. I’d love to pair it with herby roasted Cornish hens (slightly cooled) topped with capers. For me, if a wine can evoke a food pairing on the spot, it’s a winner. Naturally, there are those wines that need no food, but as a passionate cook, that’s generally what makes my light bulb go off. From DFJ’s wide-range of reds, I also enjoyed a 2008 full-bodied Caladoc and Alicante Bouschet blend with hints of spice ideal for drinking with a steak hot off the grill covered in generous amounts of freshly cracked black pepper. Great was also their 2007 Grand ’Arte special selection bottle that left a velvety smokiness lingering in my mouth. (No U.S. distributor to date)

Roasted Cornish Hens

Cut excess skin off the hens, wash, pat dry with paper towels place in a tray (earthenware is my preference) on a bed of chopped onions
Sprinkle the hens with coarse salt to taste
White and black pepper
Lemon juice
Sparingly sprinkle with paprika
Dry rosemary
Mince five cloves of garlic and rub on hens
Pour a cup of dry white wine over them
Same amount of olive oil
Pre-heat the oven to 450 degrees (depending on oven)
Drop four bay leaves in the marinade
Roast for 25 minutes on one side, when toasty turn the hens and marinade them
Roast for another 25 minutes or until toasty
Ten minutes before removing hens add half a cup of capers to the sauce
Serve with your favorite side dishes or a simple salad

Vinhas Da Ciderma (Solar do Prado)

Monica Figueiredo’s selections of wines are inspiring. Both the 2009 Donzel Colheita and the Reserva with blends of Codega do Larinho, Malvasia Fina and Rabigato are light, but show a round, lush mouthful. They’re refreshing yet remind me of a fluffy zest-infused cake, likely attributable to Malvasia Fina’s traces of molasses and nutmeg with the refreshing citrus of the Rabigato. The Colheita is lighter than the Reserva, which uses the same grapes but that were picked a week later, adding more body. Then there are the reds. My favorite, the Donzel Reserva Tinto 2005, is a delicate wine at first but quickly reveals complex notes of honey, fig jam and vanilla. The wine is fermented in open-air granite press tanks and made using the foot treading method of old. This red would be a hit with dark fowl, like roasted duck, squab or quail. I usually make my duck similar to the Cornish hens, but without the capers and add lots of shallots and marinade overnight. Plus, I add a cup of Moscatel, which has hints of fig and raisin and would really open up the jammy notes in the Donzel red. Let the duck roast for an hour covered in foil at about 375/400 degrees, then let roast for another hour uncovered. (No U.S. distributor to date) Photo by Paulo Nolasco

Quinta Do Mondego

Made with the Dão restricted Encruzado grape, Quinta do Mondego’s Munda’s use of the varietal results in a refreshing and mineral wine that is perfect for the warmer days ahead of us with or without food. It’s a cooling, crisp wine that’s not overpowered by acidity. The Rosados Tinto wine, a blend of Touriga Nacional, Tinta Roriz, Alfrocheiro, Jaen (also known as Mencia in Spain) and Baga, is as complex as it sounds. It’s a wine that would likely pair well with a variety of meats, especially pork and turkey. For a deeper red, the 2008 Munda Touriga Nacional is chocolaty and smoky, and though a bit too dry at first, I could tell it would open up beautifully if decanted or left sitting in the glass for a little longer. Find Munda wines, not these unfortunately, but others at Tewksbury Fine Wine, Oldwick, NJ.

Orange-infused Pork

Clean any excess fat from two pork tenderloins
Sprinkle with coarse salt (to taste) on both sides
Add black pepper
A bit of paprika
Squeeze the juice of one large orange over them
Pierce the meat in a few spots to create pockets and fill them with fresh cilantro
Mince four cloves of garlic and rub on the meat
Pour a cup of white wine over them
Pour a table spoon of white vinegar into the marinade
Pour in a cup of olive oil
Let sit overnight covered in the fridge or for at least two hours before roasting
Pre-heat the oven to 450 degrees and put the meat inside
After 20 minutes, lower the heat to 375 and remove the meat to marinade it
Put back inside for another 15 minutes or so
Let rest on a wooden board covered for a couple of minutes before slicing and serving with freshly chopped cilantro and lemon wedges

ROQUEVALE

One of the varietals I always find myself defending is Trincadeira, which is commonly found in Alentejo and Terras do Sado wines. It generally creates a medium red with hints of freshly dug wet soil, herbs, olives and dried prunes. I like to say it tastes of Portuguese terroir, and is one of the oldest and most widely planted varietals in the Alentejo. When used in a blend like the Alentejo Roquevale Redondo that combines Aragonez (Tempranillo in Spain), Castelao and Moreto (also an Alentejo grape used for blending) it’s less noticeable amid the ripe fruit and spiciness but it comes through adding a balanced dryness and marking its territory to remind us where the wine we’re drinking is from. I would pair this with one of the 1,000 cod fish recipes Portugal has to offer (stay tuned for my next article featuring a few of these recipes). It’s also a good wine to pair with soft cheeses, like a Serra da Estrela, which can be found in New Jersey at The Cheese Store Hoboken; other cheeses not so readily available in the U.S. are the Amarelo da Beira Baixa and Azeitao cheese. Find Roquevale wines, not these specifically, at Planet of the Wine Linden, NJ; Cellar, Washington D.C.; Primo Vino, Denver, CO.

Encosta Longa

Encosta Longa’s reds and whites are elegant and an ideal example of the quality wines the country can produce. A more commonly known region for reds, Douro whites had remained relatively undiscovered to me until recently. The Encosta Longa un-oaked, a blend of Malvasia Fina, Rabigato and Siria (synonymous with Codega do Larinho), is refreshing with loads of minerality and hints of eucalyptus. The more full-bodied Encosta Longa oaked (for four months) mixing Malvasia Fina, Siria and Fernao Pires would be delightful with roasted red snapper topped with lots of red peppers. This producer’s 2004 Encosta Longa red, a blend of Tinta Roriz, Touriga Franca, Touriga Nacional and Barroca, is everything I expect a full-bodied red to be. It filled my mouth with smoothness, just enough spice and ripe fruit, refreshed by a very light acidity and well-balanced tannins. (No U.S. distributor to date) Photo by Paulo Nolasco

Roasted Snapper with Red Peppers

Ask your local fish market to gut and scale your fish
Wash it and pat dry
Add a generous amount (or to taste) of course salt on both sides and inside
Lay the fish on a bed of onions and five bay leaves
Make two incisions on both sides and stuff with garlic cloves
Stuff additional garlic cloves and fresh rosemary sprigs inside the body of the fish
Squeeze the juice of a lemon over it
Sprinkle black pepper on it
Pour a cup of white wine over it and another cup of olive oil
Cut red bell peppers into strips and add to the marinade, stuff some in the carcass
Pre-heat the oven to 450 degrees
Roast for 20 minutes, remove and marinade, and put the fish back in the oven for another 15 minutes or until flaky at the touch of a fork
Remove fish and sprinkle with freshly chopped parsley

Conceitos Vinhos LDA

This producer’s wine, which is named exactly for its Douro region grape called Bastardo, has on its label the face of a young boy who has neither nose nor mouth and two large black holes for eyes. It’s a serious kind of playful, if you will. For lovers of the Gamay grape used to make Beaujolais, this is a wine for you. Though I’m not a fan of Beaujolais, I do think it has its place and can be a paired with foods that often go well with a dry rose, like shrimp or scallops sauté in butter, white wine, black pepper and parsley, and accompanied with olives and presunto (cured ham). Borrowing from the producers own name “Conceito,” which translates to “Concept,” I would say it’s definitely a different concept compared to the Portuguese wine I’m accustomed to. Do I like it? I’m not sure yet. But I do keep giving Beaujolais a chance, so why not Bastardo. Find it at Vindeterra, Springfield, VA.

Quinta de Gomariz

Like the lighthearted inviting colors on its bottles, the wines from Quinta de Gomariz are full of vibrant flavors. It’s made in the northern-most tip of the country, Minho, where Portugal’s Vinho Verde’s source from. The single varietal bottles of Loureiro and Espadeiro were vibrant and inviting, an emblematic trait of Vinho Verde, but at the same time, showed a surprising amount of body and structure. The Loureiro’s floral, yet grassy and zesty, bouquet with hints of peach makes this wine a gorgeous pairing for shrimp or crab cocktail and salads this summer instead of your usual Sauvignon Blanc. A bit more robust, and a perfect pairing for ripe beefsteak tomatoes drenched in olive oil, coarse salt, black pepper and fresh basil, is their Vinho Verde Rose that has a well-balanced mix of sweet and tart berry flavors. Find the Loureiro at Flickinger Wines Chicago, IL; Loureiro and Espadeiro at PR Grisley, UT and PA.

I truly hope you can get your hands on some of these bottles, potentially experimenting with either some of the recipes listed above or some of your very own. I’ll be scavenging retail shops far and wide in search of these wines, and will share any updates on my findings. Please do the same!

Note: Mark your calendars! Wines of Portugal will be showcasing more wines during its New York City Grand Tasting on April 4 (RSVP: info@dunnrobbinsgroup.com) and its San Francisco Grand Tasting (RSVP: www.winecouch.com/rsvp) on April 6.

Cheers,

Sonia Andresson-Nolasco

The Olive Harvest in Portugal: A Delightful Aromatic Adventure

Guest Blogger — Thu, 17 Feb 2011 16:39:25 +0000

Editor’s Note: Last year, Fiona Lynch and her husband Jonathan, two passionate geologists, moved from Scotland to the Lima Valley in Minho region in Portugal. Fiona has kindly been submitting articles to Catavino based on her varied experiences, and we couldn’t be more appreciative. Today, Fiona brings you her take on the Olive harvest in Portugal.

We had every intention of picking the olives from our modest but productive olive trees but being rather unsure of how to go about it we kept putting it off. It was late November in Alto Minho region, northern Portugal and every day we passed groups of people collecting olives. Often we would stop and watch the different methods; some climbed the trees and bashed the higher branches with sticks allowing the olives to fall onto tarpaulins arranged around the base of the trunk, others cut the upper branches and let them fall to the ground before hand-stripping the olives onto the tarpaulins or straight into buckets. Others still used sticks to beat the fallen branches or used a special tool rather like a wooden claw or rake to rip the olives off the branches.

The worldwide production of olive oil is dominated by those countries surrounding the Mediterranean and despite its relatively small size Portugal manages to rank as the world’s 8th largest producer of olive oil at around 50,000 tons. It is somewhat overshadowed by its larger neighbour Spain which enjoys the number one position with an annual production of 1.4 million tons.

Although Minho region is not among the seven DOP (Denominacao de Origem Protegida) regions of Portugal – “Azeite de Moura”, “Azeite de Trás-os-Montes“, “Azeites do Ribatejo”, “Azeites do Norte Alentejano”, “Azeite da Beira Alta“, “Azeite da Beira Baixa” and “Alentejo Interior” - olive trees form an important part of the local landscape in this area. Olive trees line fields and vineyards and most small holdings will have a few wizened old trees in amongst the orchards and rows of vegetables. Olive trees prefer calcareous soils however they successfully grow on the thin sandy soils derived from granite, the predominant rock type here in Minho.

There are seven varieties of olives in Portugal with the most prolific being the Galega a small dark brownish black olive. Galega olive trees are mainly grown for their oil however they also make delicious table olives. The olives have a sweet delicate fruity flavor in contrast to the green rich fleshy Spanish Manzanilla olives or the dark smooth meaty taste of Greek Kalamata olives.

When picking olives for pressing timing is key if you want to achieve the right balance between oil content and acidity (the darker the olive the higher the oil content but also the higher the acidity) so one afternoon we tentatively harvested olives from one tree by sawing off branches and ripping off the olives by hand into buckets. Needless to say the wastage was high. Once we had collected the olives into buckets we spread them out on our balcony and painstakingly removed all the leaves and twigs. This took hours. Heavy rain showers then washed the olives clean. The next step was to find out where to take the olives for pressing.

Our neighbor Arminda came by with a bottle of bagaço, the local firewater and I seized the opportunity to find out where to take our olives. She had already noted that our remaining olive trees were heavy with glossy black olives. ‘There is not a moment to lose’ she announced (or something to that effect). She would round up some helpers and return after lunch.

About mid afternoon a team on a tractor turned into our yard and tarpaulins were spread about between the trees. Old João climbed up into the branches with his chainsaw and began slicing off branches. Those of us standing below scattered, dodging the falling branches. Once it was safe to do so we gathered up the branches and began stripping off the olives onto the tarpaulins. We then carefully lifted the corners and gently tipped the olives into buckets.

João meanwhile seemed to be getting carried away with his chainsaw and before long the olive trees were reduced to low stumps. There was some debate about whether he had gone too far but he was adamant that the trees would recover and new branches would soon grow. Vamos ver – we will see.

I was not looking forward to the next part – separating out the leaves and twigs. We loaded the buckets of olives onto the trailer and took them next door to Carolina’s yard with its large flat drying area typical of the quintas in this area. Here I fully expected to spread the olives out on the floor and spend the evening on this laborious task. However a wooden contraption was dragged out from the back of a barn. It works like this; you pour the olives in at the top of the slatted chute and the olives roll down to the base while the leaves and twigs miraculously disappear through the gaps. The whole operation took about half an hour and after putting the olives into the regulation white sacks we were soon on our way to the local olive press.

We hauled our sacks of olives into the warm and clammy building and placed them on the scales. In the next room there were huge circular steel presses squeezing crushed olive paste spread between circular hessian mats. We stood watching the dark reddish juice ooze out of the mats and into channels. The oil was then separated out from the watery liquid by centrifuge.

The reward for our efforts? Well, from roughly 100kg of olives (taken from four trees) our share came to 10 litres of olive oil (the press kept the other 10 litres). We now have a row of recycled bottles in our kitchen filled with thick green fragrant olive oil or azeite, perfect for pouring over a winter diet of boiled cabbage and potatoes served, of course, with bacalhau.

Cheers,

Fiona Lynch

How Should Albariño Taste? A Palatable Debate

Oliver Styles — Thu, 10 Feb 2011 10:12:46 +0000

A few weeks ago I found myself in the midst of a blind tasting with five Masters of Wine candidates. I will tell you how I came to be there another time, but part of it was down to my – dare I say childish – love of blind tastings. Once we had spent a couple of hours trying to pin down 12 wines, it was time for the enjoyment of discovery: time to unwrap the bottles. I will not bore you with the lineup but draw your attention to a bit of a spat concerning one wine: Pazo de Senorans Albarino 2009. While this wine is considered a classic by the Institute of Masters of Wine (the 2008 figured on the exam last year), one of our number (himself a Spaniard with no small degree of tasting experience) complained: this wine was not a classic example of Albarino, this was not how Albarino should taste, this wasn’t right.

So how should Albarino taste? Back in September, Ryan asked pretty much the same question of Rioja, and I don’t think he’ll ever get a straightforward answer (even the joke that Brettanomyces is considered a defining characteristic of some Gran Reservas is by no means universal). Similarly, I doubt we’ll ever get one for Albarino. Winemaking techniques evolve – mainly for the better – and although that means regional characteristics get distorted (if you were of Gallic philosophy you might say that no matter what the winemaker does, the terroir shines through), we perhaps become freer to approach and discover new regions through this manipulation.

My first great Albarino experience was several years ago with an older vintage of Nora de Nieve – a barrel-fermented style, with the butteriness of a Burgundy Chardonnay and the – can I say characteristic? – zip of Albarino acidity. A classic style of Rias Baixas it may not have been. A fantastic wine it certainly was. It’s utterly absurd to say it, but I’ll be honest: putting Albarino in oak and giving it some lees helped me make a transition from something I understood (Burgundian Chardonnay) to something I didn’t have much idea about (Albarino). Purists might shake their heads but it did make me more interested in Albarino and Rias Baixas, and I flatter myself to believe that many other people would have similar experiences.

But it’s not all one way traffic, and I’m sure not everyone is quite so fortunate in their first sip of Albarino. I remember last year, sitting in a Vinoteca in the heart of Rias Baixas, tasting wine after wine that, had I not know Albarino could have been more interesting, would have left me bored and unimpressed.

But what are the classic characteristics of Rias Baixas Albarino, then? This is debatable but probably: a very aromatic nose of something like peaches and apricots; decent palate weight; but not broad or flabby; and a lovely, fresh, zippy acidic finish. OK? Well, good luck.

Last year I took three Rias Baixas Albarinos of roughly different price off the supermarket shelf to try at home. Ranging in price from around €3 to €13, the best was the cheapest (the Anae 2009, at €3.50), but that was hardly saying a great deal. The 2009 Senorio de Sobral – which proudly sported a Concours Mondial de Bruxelles gold medal on its neck – had quite an uninspirational level of residual sugar and a touch of spritz to boot. The 2008 Leiras, which is made by Cava giant Cordoniu and has a very stylish – if a little passe – frosted glass bottle, smelled like stewed riverbank reeds. I tried them again later to be sure. And the next day. But they hadn’t improved. One lesson was definitely learned: if you don’t know what you’re getting, buy the latest vintage possible. But surely this wasn’t representative of all Albarino?

So last weekend I tried the experiment again but went a bit more up-market in my choices: a 2009 Terras Gauda, a 2009 Martin Codax, a 2009 Fillaboa and – this time – the 2010 Senorio de Sobral (still sporting its Concours Mondial de Bruxelles gold medal tag). For those of you doing the mathematics, the Senorio de Sobral was indeed from last year – picked about five months ago – but apparently this is how Albarino used to be: picked, fermented and bottled for the new year.

The possibility that the residual sugar (also known as RS in tasting circles) in my 2009 bottle was the consequence of a strange batch and not a winemaking decision was immediately quashed. The wine smelled lovely but, for me, there is no need for semi-sweet Albarino in this world unless you’re trying to ape Alsatian aperitif wines – and I don’t think there’s much need for that either. To my mind it’s a shame that what is clearly some very nice fruit (as evidenced by the beauty of the aromas) is not being left to go dry – but I suppose there may well be fans of that kind of wine. [As an aside this merely the observation that peer group tastings (blind or not) favour wines with a bit of RS. I don't think the Concours Mondial de Bruxelles judges aren't up to it just as much as I doubt they believe this kind of wine is classic Albarino. Of course, it may well be that the gold medal was given to a different style of wine - from what I can work out Sobral got the gold in 2008 - in which case, we should direct our complaints elsewhere - i.e. towards Sobral's marketing]

Moving on, though. The Fillaboa I was unprepared for: a wine built around acidity. It was the very definition of linear – ‘a purists wine’ my tasting companion informed me. It wasn’t unpleasant but you probably should be a fan of the linear, racy, jangly, tight, searing wines before buying and drinking this. I kid you not – the wine’s finish literally did taste like I had been sucking on a cold stone. And I actually quite liked it.

Now, I know Martin Codax is a big name in Rias Baixas. But it wasn’t that impressive. In fact, I can’t think of a great deal to say about it. So let’s move on to the Terras Gauda, which was the best wine of the bunch. Although it had that slightly reedy nose I find a lot in Rias Baixas, it was an attractive aroma (not necessarily one that bought peaches immediately to mind) – almost heathery – with a great, textured, balanced body. The peaches certainly came out on the finish which was lovely and fresh. It was easily my pick of the bunch. To give you a league table, (in order of most wine missing from the bottles that evening) the Terras Gauda came first, very closely followed by the Fillaboa, then Martin Codax, then Senorio de Sobral.

This morning, being nothing if not assiduous, I wanted to remedy the poor excuse for a tasting note I gave to the Pazo de Senorans when we tasted it all those weeks ago – especially given that it was the bottle responsible for this long post. And to be honest, it was a pretty fair representative of Rias Baixas Albarino – better than the Codax and the Sobral, similar to the Fillaboa and the Terras Gauda but without either’s acidity.

Empirical (though limited) research therefore suggests (a) that those wishing to dip into Albarino from a supermarket selection should always go for the youngest wines; (b) that most Albarino doesn’t smell of peaches that much – in fact none of the bottles I tasted were hugely aromatic; and (c) what Rias Baixas Albarino actually is – or at least what it should be – is still wide open to debate.

But my final point (yes, I will shut up) is that surely, if Albarino is meant to be a fragrant, fresh, aromatic wine, for the most part made to be drunk young and purportedly displaying aromas of peaches, why on earth is it that only one of the wines I tried was sealed under screwcap?

Cheers,

Oliver Styles

Wines tasted (notes copied more or less verbatim):

Anae, Albarino, Rias Baixas, 2009
Very cheap. Nice, gold colour. Fragant, blossomy, peachy, although smells a touch sweaty. Reminiscent of Austrian Gruner Veltliner on the palate with a certain grippy depth. Not very complex but a decent white wine.

Senorio de Sobral, Albarino, Rias Baixas, 2009
Nice colour. Muted, floral, blossomy nose. Quite a touch of residual sugar. Spritz (small bubbles), honeyed, sweet. Would be okay for an aperitif but much else. Concours Mondial de Bruxelles, eh?

Leiras, Rias Baixas, Albarino, 2008
The only wine under screwcap and unfortunately it’s getting a bit tired. Very stewed and weedy on the nose. There’s the vestiges of a decently made wine here but I think this has just gone over the hill without so much as a goodbye kiss. Albarino might be able to age, but not this.

Senorio de Sobral, Albarino, Rias Baixas, 2010
Quite nice floral, fresh(ish), attractive, peachy (yes), grassy aromas. A bit of spritz – again – and still quite a fair bit of RS – why? Decent enough for aperitif.

Fillaboa, Albarino, Rias Baixas, 2009
A bit stewy/reedy/composty a first although this blows off and opens up a bit after a few minutes. Nice, bright fruit on the palate. Very linear style, with a backbone of pure acidity. Very much like sucking a stone.

Martin Codax, Albarino, Rias Baixas, 2009
A hint cheesy, stewy, although, again, I think this does blow off a bit after a while. A decent helping of acidity here although not a great deal of fruit in there though.

Terras Gauda, Albarino, Rias Baixas, 2009
Actually quite an attractive, heathery nose. Very attractive balance, with nice Albarino (peachy) fruit and a great finish with good freshness. The best compliment I can pay it is that when retasting it this morning, I struggled to keep myself from swallowing it. King of the crop.

Pazo de Senorans, Albarino, 2009
Nice, aromatic nose. Decent body but doesn’t quite have the depth of the Terras Gauda. Decent acidity and a pleasant finish. Pretty good.

Pairing Portuguese Wines with Roasted Fowl

Sonia Nolasco — Thu, 20 Jan 2011 09:00:37 +0000

On cold winter evenings there’s nothing more heartwarming for this writer than a chicken roasting in the oven. The scent of herby seasonings enchant my senses and transport me to my mother’s kitchen in New Jersey where she roasts to perfection just as she learned to do back in the Old Country. In America, roasted turkey is considered one of the coziest meals in this country’s culinary repertoire. To meld the flavors of the Old and New worlds in my own kitchen, I need only to turn to my mother, Maria do Ceu, who along with her seven siblings was raised in the sleepy village of Bemposta do Campo in the interior Beira Baixa region of Portugal where roasting in a communal brick oven was the norm during her younger years. Though she and most of her brothers and sisters left the village for greater opportunities in Lisbon, France and America they recreated the roasts in their modern-day ovens, treating new generations of children (yours truly) to the succulent Mediterranean flavors of their countryside home. (Flickr photo by Alice Harold)

In America, my mother’s roasting adeptness is most venerated on Thanksgiving Day, which not traditionally a Portuguese holiday, we adopted as our own and celebrate it as our fellow immigrants do as “the day of the turkey.” For Portuguese families, the downfall to this American holiday is in fact its centerpiece—the turkey—which does make its way onto some Luso tables back in the Old Country but usually takes a back seat to chicken and duck. The complaints about the bird’s “dryness” have generally been unanimous. But when November came around each year in Newark, where I grew up among a vibrant Portuguese community, my mother (dubbed “Ceu” by friends and family) did indeed trade in her chicken for turkey. Unlike our neighbors who dreaded eating their bird (in some cases substituting it entirely with some other fowl), I, my father (Jose Luis) and my younger brother (Luis) had no reason to beg that the gobbler become an afterthought on the holiday dinner table. And as our family has expanded over the years, my mother’s turkey remains a godsend during our annual autumn festivities.

The new challenge has become finding the right Portuguese wine to pair with the turkey, which in American homes a California or Oregon Pinot Noir tends to do the trick, since it’s a light red that doesn’t overpower the white meat on the bird but is fruitful enough to stand up to the dark meat as well. But the bird’s mixed meat isn’t the only factor to take in to consideration when pairing wine with Ceu’s turkey (or her fowl in general), it’s also the thick olive oil gravy infused with herbs and loads of garlic that make the roast so moist and appetizing. The robust Mediterranean flavors beckon for an equal wine. This time around, I left the Pinot Noir on the shelf and decided to bring the New and Old World traditions a little closer by pairing the turkey with a Portuguese red and a white.

Foral 2009 (Alianca): The herby gravy was complemented by the dry finish in the Douro red; however, at times it overpowered the white meat I had allowed on my plate for the sake of our pairing (dark meat is more up my alley). The medium to full-bodied wine appeared to be a too intense, spicy, dry and inconsistent pairing for this mixed meat bird. It would likely pair well with duck, rabbit or lamb. With April on the horizon, it might be a wise choice for gamier Easter meats. But for turkey and chicken, the suggestion is a less tannic Trincadeira red from the Terras do Sado, such as a Casa Ermelinda Freitas, which has been pleasing in such pairings in the past. Or, a rose blend like Eugenio de Almeida from the Alentejo region.

My second choice of the night was a white, Follies 2006 (Aveleda): Containing 60 percent Chardonnay and 40 percent Maria Gomes from the Bairrada region. This medium to full-bodied white was light enough that it paired well with the subtlety of the white meat but just as well with the charred, gravy-covered, crispy skin on the wings that I enjoy so much. The strength and smoothness of the Chardonnay grape blended with the refreshing acidity of the Maria Gomes made this wine an excellent choice for our roast. It also awakened the seasonings in the sauce. I could taste more of everything; the bay leaves, the citrus, oregano, basil and rosemary. Nothing foul about this fowl and wine pairing! May it warm your hearts this winter season.

Cheers,

Sonia Andresson-Nolasco

ROASTED TURKEY (A LA CEU)

Note: This recipe can be applied to any type of fowl

Turkey (any size)

Coarse salt

Orange peel

5 lemons

5 bay leaves

Black pepper

Dry basil, oregano, rosemary

Fresh parsley

Paprika

White wine

2 heads of garlic

Olive oil

Instructions:

Two days prior to roasting

Soak turkey in a basin with water

Throw in a handful of salt (or to taste)

Add the orange peel

Squeeze in the juice of 2 lemons and throw them into the mix afterwards

Add the bay leaves

Black pepper (to taste)

Add the basil, oregano and rosemary (to taste)

Let soak until the following afternoon

One day prior to roasting

Drain the water from the basin

Dry the turkey with paper towels

Cut and discard any unwanted fats

In a large bowl, crush the garlic cloves (entire two heads of garlic)

Add a mug of olive oil

The juice of three lemons (discard lemons)

Add freshly chopped parsley

Black pepper (to taste)

Paprika (4 table spoons)

Blend all in electric grinder

Add more dry basil, oregano and rosemary

A handful of salt

A mug of white wine

Rub the turkey and leave marinating in the fridge overnight

Roasting day

Preheat oven to 380 degrees (adjust for your oven)

Place foil over turkey for the first hour of roasting

Remove foil and roast for another hour

Remove turkey from the oven and turn it and baste with gravy

Increase the temperature to 450 degrees and put the turkey back inside for another 30 minutes

Serve with your favorite side dishes

Spain’s Greatest Wine: Vega-Sicilia Unico 2000

Oliver Styles — Mon, 20 Dec 2010 15:47:18 +0000

It’s not often that the fates conspire to have me taste the latest release of Unico twice in as many months and I would be foolish to pass up the opportunity to share my thoughts on what is (I think we can all agree?) Spain’s greatest wine. Of course, there are pretenders but Vega-Sicilia has the pedigree. And lots of people put lots of store by pedigree.

Pedigree is the main argument for not tasting wines blind. For instance, if you taste Unico next to a whole lineup of similarly highly-rated wines (see my previous post on the Penin tasting), I’ll forgive you for thinking Unico is slim, ready-to-drink (almost as if it was on the downward slope of maturity), unimpressive and unexciting. Indeed, these were my immediate reactions to it. But, knowing that it is Vega-Sicilia, this has to be offset by the irrefutable fact that Unico can age, and age very well.

Luckily, I tasted it again last week, and more importantly I tasted it without a lot of big-hitting, high-fruit, high-alcohol, high-tannin wines clamoring around it for attention. It became immediately clear that Unico 2000 is a wine of great finesse. By ‘finesse’ I mean that it has everything you want in a so-called blockbuster wine but it’s all toned-down and harmonious. In a strange way, it might seem a little weak but like a good Burgundy, it can stand up to hefty food surprisingly well. Although I think there is an element of over-sweetness on the nose (in the sense that a rose just after full bloom smells almost sickly), it is undoubtedly a very good wine.

But anyone familiar with my blogs and my outlook knows that I disapprove of high-priced wines. You may disagree with me, you may not, but it would be wrong – and insulting to my readers – not to mention the price of a bottle of Vega-Sicilia Unico: €150-200 is the minimum you will pay. To me, no wine in the world is worth that much. Therefore while I can happily praise Unico for being a great bottle of wine, I do not praise its price and I wish such wines were more accessible to more people – for the good of the wine world as a whole, not simply as a money machine for a few, select families.

Vega-Sicilia, Unico, Ribera del Duero, 2000

Spicy, dark berry fruit, inky, almost sickly-sweet. On the palate this is lovely, soft, spicy, warming, slender but with muscle and controlled power. There is great structure and length to this wine. Fantastic. But remember, it’s just a wine.

Cheers,

Oliver Styles

Tawny versus Moscatel: Which Pairs Best with a Classic American Pie?

Sonia Nolasco — Wed, 08 Dec 2010 11:14:52 +0000

When Warre’s, one of the great Port wine companies put its Otima 10 bottle on the market, it was targeting a younger crowd with its cleaner and more modern packaging. It apparently worked for this 30-year-old wine drinker, who normally has a soft spot for the ornate, but in this case couldn’t resist how the minimally ornamented bottle allowed the burnt caramel-colored drink to take center stage. Since purchasing my first bottle of the ten-year-old Tawny ($20) four years ago, it’s been a staple of our home bar. However, this toffee-tasting treat shares the shelf with another favorite drink of mine, the Moscatel de Setubal (also in a contemporary bottle) by Bacalhoa ($12). And as if the north and south soccer rivalries in Portugal weren’t enough, I apologize in advance for adding more fuel to the fire with this dessert (or aperitif) wine showdown. But the real culprit inspiring this competition is an American dessert—the pumpkin pie.

For years, I have been eating this earthy custard filled pie, infused with traces of nutmeg and cinnamon in its salty crust, but never thought of pairing it with a dessert wine – until this Thanksgiving season when I began, as in previous autumns, gorging on the comforting pie all through November. But this time, it dawned on me that the experience could be enhanced—with wine, naturally. The cinnamon and nutmeg flavors begged for some caramel, which is abundant in both the Tawny (from the north) and Moscatel (from the south). But which would make a more delicious pairing? The Tawny v. Moscatel derby analysis is in:

Tawny: Aged for ten years in oak casks, Otima 10 has hints of caramel, honey and ripe fruit with a subtle smokiness. This medium to full bodied dessert wine hogged the spotlight when paired with the pumpkin pie I picked up at Stew Leonard’s, a farm- fresh family run supermarket where they churn out an assortment of fresh pies daily in Connecticut locations. Our rich Tawny, it turns out, needs an equal in order to be at its finest in a pairing. Try Lindt’s rich dark chocolate bars with caramelized orange and almond slivers. It’s never disappointing.

Moscatel: The winner of the night was the 2004 Moscatel de Setubal aged for about three years in oak barrels. Boasting orange, tea and raisin notes on its label, the flavors were enhanced with each spoonful of the harvest-time pie. It was a harmonious give and take. The Moscatel’s raisin tannins broke down the moist pie filling to reveal its innate and delicate vegetable qualities. Slightly less richer than the Tawny, the Moscatel’s balanced sweetness melded with the saltiness of the pie crust and caused the back of my mouth to burst with pleasant taste contrasts that only a sweet and sour pairing can deliver. What a combo!

Now, if only I could feel inspired to bake my own pumpkin pie. Until then, bottoms up!

Cheers,

Sonia Andresson-Nolasco

A Vindima: A Geologist’s Take on the Grape Harvest in the Minho

Guest Blogger — Tue, 07 Dec 2010 17:31:03 +0000

Editor’s Note: A few months ago, Fiona Lynch and her husband Jonathan, two passionate geologists, moved from Scotland to the Lima Valley in Minho region in Portugal. And having unexpectedly participated in a Portuguese grape harvest last fall with their neighbor, Manuel, they kindly offered to share their story. We’re very appreciative of their willingness to share their experience, and hope this will be one of many we can expect from them in the future.

It was autumn in the lush Minho region; an area of mist and granite of northern Portugal hard up against the border with Spain. Our elderly neighbour Manuel was calling over to us. It was mid afternoon and time for a drink. He carefully poured the purple frothy liquid into white porcelain bowls and my husband Jon and I drank it down gratefully.

His wife Carolina was busy cleaning out their adegga and giving last minute instructions to a steady stream of visitors, mainly relations and neighbours. The next day, 30 September, was to be the day of the vindima when they would finally pick their grapes. I had been wondering when they would finally get round to this. All the grapes on the terraces further down the valley had already been picked. Up to now the weather had been glorious but now the forecast was threatening.

Minho region is in Vinho verde DOC (Denominaçao de Origem Controlada) with alvarinho grapes featuring in the Minho valley to the north and loureiro grapes favoured here in the Lima valley. These grapes produce a light, crisp, slightly effervescent white wine that is drunk young (‘verde’). Red vinho verde is also popular and many of our neighbours produce this wine for their own consumption.

The vindima is a community affair and as we were new to the area we had volunteered our labour as a way of getting to know our neighbours. ‘Falamos a manha – we’ll talk tomorrow’ Carolina shouted from her kitchen window when I asked her whether the weather could spoil the plans for the next day.

As it was the weather held and all fifteen of us trooped down to the fields and hooked our buckets on the wires stretched between the overhead pergolas from which the vines hang. (I am told they are trained this way to keep the vines free from damp and frost and also to free up space beneath for other crops). We worked fast; threading our clippers in between the leafy vines to reach the large bunches of round purple grapes and then dropping them into our buckets.

Every now and again the small buckets were emptied into larger buckets and once we reached the end of a row these large buckets were hoisted onto a trailer. The tiny tractor then toiled its way up the hill to the adegga while we tramped across the drying milho or cornfields to the next row of vines. Manuel and Carolina’s vines seemed to be scattered across the fields below their house but our fellow pickers seemed to know exactly which rows belonged to whom.

Up at the adegga the vinhão grapes were tipped into a press and the corkscrew action propelled the dark red purple mass of juice, skins and stalks (bagaço) along a pipe into a large concrete tank in the corner of the cavernous adegga. There it bubbled ominously as the bagaço steadily rose to the surface.

Lunch was a delight. All morning Carolina and her helpers were bustling around large black pots the size of cauldrons precariously positioned on grates under her huge chimneys. After vain attempts to scrub off the purple black stains from our skin we entered the low room and Carolina bade us be seated at the long trestle tables. The tables were decked out in her best table linen complete with bottles of thick green olive oil and jugs of last year’s wine.

We were then served platters of bacalhau with steaming potatoes, chicken stew (made from two of her best birds) and rice cooked in gravy taken from the chicken stew. We cleaned our plates with chunks of broa or cornbread and drank wine from our bowls watching as our neighbours’ lips and teeth stained that purple colour so characteristic of vinho verde tinto.

This was followed by a dessert called uvas papas which is made by gentling heating grape juice and stirring in corn meal. This is poured onto saucers and left to set to a jelly like consistency. This tasted better than it looked with the aromatic tartness of the grape juice cutting through the slightly stodgy consistency. Out came the coffee and bottles of the local firewater or aguadente. This particular version of aguadente is distilled from juice squeezed from the bagaço. I took a hesitant sip and felt it burn its way down my chest. Watching in amusement my fellow diners then poured theirs into their coffee and drank it down.

It seems we were just in time. That weekend the heavens opened and one of the worst storms in many years battered the Lima valley. The summer’s forest fires had burned most of the vegetation on the hillsides and the resulting runoff cascaded down the slopes stripping the fertile soil and carving deep channels as it went.

For several days after the vindima Manuel went down into the adegga and watched the bubbling mass in the concrete tank. Each day he offered us a sample and we reveled in the peppery berry fruit flavours. Judging the moment carefully he then siphoned off the liquid from the concrete tank into stainless steel barrels lined up along the old stone wall. This year’s vindima had yielded 3000 litres of wine. That should be enough to see them through to the next one.

Cheers,

Fiona Lynch