Wines of Hungary: The Report

Many, many people of the huge crowd at the Pen and Pencil Club said this may have been the best tasting ever. I hear that occasionally and say perhaps so, knowing the customers are being effusive, but this time I feel they may be right. This one rocked. Even the two real live Hungarians we had at this one were delighted, and while I knew they’d be there I was still concerned: I am going to talk to them about their wines? Even leaving aside my occasionally dreadful pronunciation of overseas place names and the like, yikes. And I know well of the intense national pride of Hungarians. But they had a terrific time. So all was well on that front.

Why was this one so good? Three reasons (besides the wine, all from native Hungarian grapes, not international varieties, being good):

1) We took extra time and care over the food. Some of it came from the Yorkville Meat Emporium/Hungarian Meat Market in Manhattan’s old Eastern European neighborhood on the far Upper East Side (1560 Second Ave. at 81st St.; http://www.hungarianmeatmarket.com) which I cannot recommend highly enough to those interested in pursuing Hungarian meat and food (try the paprika head cheese). The lovely ladies there will assist you with delight and total efficiency. Between myself, P&P chef Dennis Hagen and P&P manager Dan Kenney, we came up with a menu that, I think, complimented the wine as well as anything we have ever done.

2) The wine service was perfect – we had the temperatures right and the order was perfect.

3) And everybody was in such a good mood; it seemed more than unusually festive.

The wines:

2003 Envinor Pinceset Tokaji Furmint Felszaraz
The first thing to know about the great wine region in the northeast of Hungary – Tokaj – is that the name of the town and area is Tokaj, the wine is Tokaji. The second is that not all wines made there are the rich, honeyed sweet wines that are justly world-renowned – dry white wines are made as well. Now, when one says “dry” in Hungary, one does not mean bone-dry in the way a Macon-Villages or Muscadet is; Hungarian wines, even what they think of the driest, are sweeter than what most Americans would think a dry wine should be. As was this charmer. Made from Furmint, a spicy, flavor-packed grape, florid as a bouquet of garden-fresh flowers on the nose, pale greenish, product of a hot summer, green apples and peaches on first taste, satisfying and mouthfilling (a old friend once said Peach Snapple was the most ‘mouthfilling’ drink he’d ever had, thus that phrase). Loads of fruit mid-palate, maybe heading towards flabbiness if served too warm (we nailed it at 50 degrees or so) but with enough acid to avoid cloyingness. Ethereal, short Vigonier-style finish. Went well with a mildish Cantelet cheese from the Auvergne, France, and then, much later, with my dinner of crab-topped salmon. Not much life left here though, drink up. $11 in NYC; 12 percent alcohol. Now-Christmas 2008. *** (just) (with Cantalet cheese and later with salmon filet topped with crabmeat, rice on the side, at the Pen & Pencil Club, Philadelphia, 4/2008)

2003 Egervin Leanyka
A very light pale wine from Leanyka, a native white grape that translates to “young girl” or “little girl”, from the huge Hungarian producer Egervin, grown in Eger in the northeast of Hungary. Aromatic but not hugely florid – its scents were more of a freshly cut meadow, say, or delicate wildflowers – as dry as Hungarian white gets, zippy, light, pleasant, nicely held together by its acidity, a touch sharp on the finish, Light at 11.5 percent alcohol, almost like a Hungarian Muscadet but spicier and a tad sweeter. Value at $7. At least one bottle was lightly maderised, which turned the wine into a nutty fino sherry clone, and it was not at all bad that way (I’d maderise some intentionally and see if I could market it as a sherry-esque wine; it was tasty). Coped well with a plate of “Hungarian antipasto” – piquillo peppers stuffed with hummus, Hungarian dry paprika sausage, a goulash/sour cream dip, two types of
pickles (one crisp chips and the other gherkins cooked, the latter from Hungary), and bread. Worth looking for. But drink up. Now-2008. **1/2 (at the Pen & Pencil Club, Philadelphia, 4/2008)

2005 Marka Szekszard Nemes Kadarka
Supposedly the “Nemes” (‘noble’) means that this wine was sweet, even botrytized, but I tasted none of that. The label said semi-sweet, but for once with Hungarians, it was drier than that, if, again, not starkly dry. Kadarka is the grape type, native. Szekszard the region, in the south of Hungary. Served lightly chilled. Gorgeous pale reddish color, looking a little like Lindemans’ raspberry lambic beer; spicy, intriguing aroma; luscious fruit at first on the palate, then cherries and raspberries take over, cherries dominate the aroma after a while, tangy and tart, looong finish of black cherry and earth. Similar in some ways to a good Alsatian Pinot Noir but more luscious, or to a Beaujolais Cru (Chiroubles?) but with more structure. In some ways like a light Portuguese red. Might not stand up to lamb or a strip steak or really good roast beef, but superb with chicken, sausages, pork, duck, grilled veggies, Cornish hen, salmon, even flank steak and Latin-style meat stews. 12.5 alcohol, steal at $8. A terrific summerish red!! Now-2011. ***1/2 (with breaded pork cutlet and sauerkraut garnie at the Pen & Pencil Club, Philadelphia, 4/2008)

2001 Kereskedohaz Tokaji Aszu 4 Puttanyos
For 500 years the Aszu has been the most famous wine of Hungary – indeed of Eastern Europe – treasured worldwide for its richness and intensity, and this shows precisely why. Stimulated conversation!! Served well-chilled. Pure honey and richness on the nose, like a full-flavored honey such as chestnut, nutty, alluring. That unmistakable lushness of botrytized grapes everywhere. On the palate, ‘wows’ around the room, fully ripe, honey, vanilla, butterscotch, massive flavor up and down the tongue, and then, instead of the kiss of sweetness a Sauternes gives at the finish, comes that searing, racy finish of great Aszu. 4 Putts is sweet but not overwhelmingly so (think Climens vs. Rieussec). “Luscious and heavenly”, I said. Served all by itself after a sorbet palate cleanser and deserved to stand alone. 12.5 alcohol, $24 (500 ml), not cheap but a solid value in the world of sweet wines. A fabulous, luxurious wine, years of life left. Foie gras would be a truly opulent pairing. Now-2020. **** (at the Pen & Pencil Club, Philadelphia, 4/2008).

Wine in Paris: We have a red 1934, we have a white 1934 ...

The title is a line uttered by the brilliant Graham Stark in a hilarious turn as a supercilious French waiter in Blake Edwards' Victor/Victoria, one of my all-time favorite films (how Robert Preston did not win an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor for his star turn as an aging, gay cabaret performer I will never know; if you haven't seen the movie, do so now!).

Stark's line comes in response to Julie Andrews' asking for a wine list. And even today in most Paris bistros and less-formal places, his response is not all that far off.

The carte des vins at the kind of places I eat at in Paris lists things like "Beaujolais"; "St. Veran"; "Bordeaux"; "Chiroubles"; "Muscadet" and the like. Vintage? Who cares? Producer? Get serious. Stupid comments that adorn many U.S. wine lists about wine (such as this)? Thankfully, none.

Once in a while the better wines might get a vintage; at one bistro on my February visit I had an enjoyable St. Estephe that Le Patron had deigned to tell his patrons was a 2004.

But generally, no. I should say that: 1) most wine ordered by the bottle will have such info available to you before you order and 2) this obviously does not apply in high-end places with legendary lists.

At first this can be disconcerting, to look at 20 wines available and no vintages given or producers or anything. Just "Chenas". Well, what, who, when? As someone who knows the French vintages and wants to avoid duds such as 2003 Rhones (flabbier than a trailer park after Thanksgiving) the lack of info can be frustrating.

But ... if you're trusting Le Patron to feed you, and you know they take pride in their food, why would you worry that their wines are not up to standard as well? If their steak au poivre is good, why would they serve Le Plonk with it? They're telling you, after all, what they think you need to know: the French AOCs are more than just grape types, they reflect terroir, styles and regional personality.

And many bistro wines are the latest vintage, that simple. Or they're Le Patron's choice of available vintages -- again, do you trust them or not? Given their pricing (low) and their willingness to serve you as little as 7cl of the wine at once (ie, if you're not sure, try some), I trust them. And often that trust is rewarded by a cuvee made just for the bistros (as the Beaujolais crus are at Le Duc de Richelieu near the Gare de Lyon, a subject of a future post of its own) which can be amazing values and special treats.

Given that these wines are almost all AOC -- and they are careful to point out the Vin du Pays on the lists -- you know there IS vintage, that's it's not some non-vintage horror. And these are not Chambertins and Pauillacs where producer and vintage are critical -- they are wines meant to be consumed fresh and young.

So don't be put off by the simple listings. Explore and enjoy!

Wine and life: Paris and Philadelphia, what a difference

I would like wine to be as much a part of my life in Philadelphia as it is when I am in Paris.

Now, it's always different on vacation than normal life. More free time, more flexibility, more time to drink.

But even if I was on vacation in Philadelphia, it would not be the same. Not even close.

In Paris, wine is part of the rhythm that makes the city go. It adorns most, if not all, tables in restaurants. It is consumed at zinc bars, at standup bars, at tabacs, and at cafes. Red wine, newspaper, cigarette. Good wine shops pop up on most shopping streets.

One can duck into any of the establishments and get a good glass of red or white for 2-3 euros. A pichet for a couple more euros. At one wonderful bistro in the 1st, Le Rubis (10 rue du Marche-Saint-Honore, Tel: 01 42 61 03 34, Metro: Tuileries) a delightful Champagne can be had for 5.50E. (I spent about 3 hours there on my January visit and watched one elderly lady have a coupe de Champagne before AND after her shopping trip. Bon marche!)

In many places, a small glass of Beaujolais, Cotes du Rhone or Muscadet can be had for 1.60E, such as at the spectacular Le Duc de Richelieu (5 rue Parrot, 12th, Tel: 01 43 43 05 64, Metro: Gare du Lyon), which offers Beaujolais crus made for them at that price! (The Chiroubles is like raspberry in the glass.)

Just try getting that in Philadelphia. Almost nowhere is a decent glass of wine less than $8, and for that one often gets the very basic California varietal or Italian mass-produced plonk. Some bars have glasses of wine for $5-6 but that will get you over-oxidized dreck at best and ... urrrp! ... at worst. Then, of course, any decent bar customer will leave a tip, at least a dollar a glass. So a stroll around Philadelphia fueled by wine will cost ... $35-$40. It would be 1/3 that in Paris, helped hugely by the fact that 20 cents Euro is a good tip and leaving nothing is acceptable.

Of course, much of the cheaper wine comes from the fact that the vineyards of Beaujolais are much closer to Paris than Philadelphia -- but it can't be all that, because local PA and NJ wines often cost dramatically more than imported wines in Philadelphia. The exchange rate makes a difference, too, but, again, U.S. wine is often just as expensive, and Latin American wines, where the dollar goes a long way, are expensive too.

And the wine isn't THAT much cheaper in Paris. The Perrin brothers' acceptable Cotes du Ventoux brand "La Vielle Ferme" sells for $8 a bottle in Philadelphia. I suggest similar wines that Paris bistros and the like sell for 2.50E a glass (or less) are not much cheaper in France. But a glass of "La Vielle Ferme" would be $7 in Philadelphia at best.

Is it that much cheaper to do business in Paris? Evidence would suggest the opposite. I realize stupid Pennsylvania liquor laws are a part of this, but the same general situation exists in other U.S. cities.

What seems to be different is the attitude towards wine. In Paris, wine is regarded as an integral part of the meal. In Philadelphia, it's a profit center for the bar/restaurant. In Paris, drinkers do not subsidize non-drinkers' meal tabs. In Philadelphia, they surely do (if you doubt this, check out BYOB places where food prices are considerably higher than in comparable licensed establishments). In Paris, bartenders and bistro owners don't mind pouring small glasses of wine for customers. In Philadelphia, they do.

I doubt this attitude will ever change -- too much money involved. There is no reason -- none -- why a glass of Beaujolais Villages, from a bottle that sells for $7, should be more than $3.50 except for sheer greed (and since Philadelphia restaurants pay their (tipped) staff about $2.36 an hour and notoriously offer no health benefits there's a lot of greed going on).

Any wait person will tell you drinkers (and smokers, too, but that's another post) spend more and tip better. So shouldn't a restaurant be ENCOURAGING wine consumption? At the very least, shouldn't the people who order just food and tap water at least pay the going rate and not be subsidized by the drinkers? In fact, THEY should subsidize the drinkers, given the differences in their checks and tips! By turning wine into a luxury with the emphasis on short-term profit, Philadelphia restaurateurs are hurting themselves long-term big-time. Meanwhile, in Paris, the bistros bulge with wine drinkers spending generously.

But change is unlikely. Too bad.

I walk by a nice French bistro every day en route to work. I'd love to stop in and have a glass of wine every day, read the paper, have a conversation. But it would cost me $7-$10 to do so, and I wind up paying for part of the teetotaler suburban couple's steak frites. No thanks.

I'll save those occasions for Paris, thank you.