Quick wine reviews from the Jersey Shore

I am enjoying an extended stay in Avalon this month, which means I cook almost every night and there's always wine. Here's a quick review of the wines we've had so far.

Gilles Gelin Beaujolais Villages 2010 -- Everybody knows 2009 was perhaps the best Beaujolais vintage of our lifetimes, but 2010 was very close to it. Perhaps less rich fruit and more mineral body, which would be my preference anyway outside of the crus of Julienas and Chiroubles which to me should be about fruit first. This Villages is several cuts above the more commercial Villages, with deep mineral flavors supporting crushed black cherry and herbal flavors. Now to 2016. Served with marinated steaks.

Johann Peter Reinert Wawerner Ritterpfad Riesling Auslese halbtrocken 2011 -- If Donnhoff, based in the Nahe, are now my favorite German winemakers, Reinert, a Saar-based veteran, is right behind. This magic exilir, served with grilled scallops stuffed with basil and garlic, is a candidate for wine of the year. The Auslese means it's full-bodied, with an intense backbone of pure Riesling fruit, but the halbtrocken means it's more or less dry on the palate with a teasing of sweet petrol on the end. Every sip leaves you wanting more. Stunning now, but will last for decades.

2012 Chateau Revelette Coteaux d'Aix en Provence Rose -- 

Perhaps the finest rose being sold right now,  but the price creep to $19 is a bit of a concern. A pale, "onion skin" color with herbal notes of thyme and rosemary. Very refreshing and mouth-puckering, but not quite the equal of the 2011 (see below). Worth the price, but the value isn't what it used to be. Served with sausages. Drink now, or 2014.

NV Pol Roger Champagne -- Served with fireworks on the beach on July 4. My favorite non-vintage Champagne, endlessly rich, lovely mousse, acidity just right and frothy fun to celebrate a birthday!

2011 Chateau Revelette Coteaux d'Aix Provence Rose -- Leftover from last year, these four bottles were blown through at record speed with everything from shrimp remoulade to frankfurters to fish. I have been drinking this wine for several years now and the 2011 is the best vintage ever. Massive amounts of flowers and herbs on the nose, lovely strawberry, honeysuckle and tart raspberry fruit, vibrant acidity, a finish to remember. Drink with whatever you are eating. Could last three years. Won't at my house.

NV Hawk Haven "American Kestrel" White -- From a Cape May County winery. 80 percent chardonnay, 20 percent sauvignon blanc. The Chard is aged in stainless steel and therefore is crisp and clean, peachy; the Sauv is aged in French oak; creamy and complex. A fine blend, though 60/40 may been more to my taste. Serve this deeply cold; it refreshes very well and warns into something a bit more complex. Served with grilled chicken with spicy sauce, and held up vs. the intense sauce. $14 a fair price.

2012 Josef Leitz "Eins Zwei Dry Rheingau Riesling Trocken -- This is one of Germany's efforts to crack the international market for everyday table wine -- simpler label, under a screwcap, priced at $13. Leitz has a winner here. More alcoholic than many German rieslings at 12.5 percent from fully ripened grapes from the glorious south-facing wall of vines that is the Rheingau, it's full-bodied but still racy, the acidity balancing out the fruit. Long, intense finish. Johannes Leitz was named German winemaker of the year in 2011 and I can see why; he is innovative while respecting a family tradition that dates back to 1744. This is a terrific wine to serve to people who think all German Rieslings are sugar bombs. This can age, but will be just fine young and fresh.

The silly season: dining outdoors and wine

I was walking to the train station the other day up Quince Street and I noticed the return of outdoor tables to local establishments as the weather has taken a decisive turn for the warmer. OK, that’s nice.

I especially noticed one establishment that was offering a row of outdoor tables that ended within 15 feet of its dumpster, quite obviously in olfactory range. And people were sitting there. J’amaze. I guess it was because all the other outdoor tables were taken at this place.

I like sitting outside on a nice day as much as anyone, but not next to a pile of trash.

And then I turn the corner, and I see several places with outdoor tables – these are not ‘sidewalk cafes’ – so close to Walnut Street (a main thoroughfare) that they are well-positioned to take in all the bus and truck exhaust. Wow, yummy!

And it’s not just aromas and gases that pose problems.

Last summer I was in TriBeCa with a friend of mine and we decided to try a newish French place, Le Cercle Rouge. It was a hot night in Manhattan, and while the street outside the restaurant is generally quiet, limiting the exhaust factor, the sidewalk and gutter still offered that dampish, sweetly sickening stench that is city pavement having been roasted by the August sun. Did I mention it was hot, and humid? No breeze. Walking around outside was miserable. Sitting outside in the damp, stinking, smothering broth passing for air in TriBeCa would be miserable, let alone dining while doing so. You’d taste more sweat than sweet. It was hot. Even if the street had smelled like lavender, it was hot.

But the restaurant’s outside tables were jammed; you’d be a overbaked, smelly sardine to boot. Our request to sit inside was met with incomprehension by the hostess, but she decided to indulge us. Inside, it was cool and pleasant and we had a fine, leisurely meal with a lovely bottle of (I think) Sancerre. It would have been grotesquely uncomfortable outside. Yet 90 percent of the customers were there.

I don’t get it.

We have turned sitting outside into a fetish, one that denies pleasure rather than gives it, and surely detracts from the dining or the wine. Can you imagine trying to enjoy a delicate, light wine, like many roses or a Loire white, while being assaulted by SEPTA spewings or eau du Dumpster? Even Bordeaux’s potent aroma will be overwhelmed. Some diesel ash on your pasta, sir?

Most places that have outdoor tables simply do not have enough room between the tables and street to provide separation from car and bus gases (much less the occasional foul-smelling bum wandering by and begging). There are very few genuine sidewalk cafes in American cities, cafes where the tables are far distant from the street (Maison in midtown Manhattan is one that fits the description, though I’d not recommend dining there as the food is lackluster) to ensure dining pleasure. Compare the average place in Philadelphia with outdoor tables to the real thing in Paris, Bruges or Brussels. (I should add that if all you are doing is drinking coffee, or a beer, this is much less an issue.)

Even if a restaurant has a nicely sheltered café, or, even better, a back garden, if it’s too hot, take a pass. Enjoyment will be hard when you’re damp to the skin with sweat.

None of these scenarios is ideal for wine. But since I suspect people will still dine outside even if it’s 95 degrees and a trash truck – “perfume wagon,” stealing a friend’s phrase – is stalled 10 feet away with a diesel fire under its hood, here’s some tips to maximize pleasure from wine while dining outside:

First and foremost, make sure the wine is at the right temperature. If it’s really hot, ask for an ice bucket, even with a red, and let the wine warm in your glass. Those ice-less coolers can be good if the wine is cold enough to start with. Or have the bartender keep your wine where the temperature will be more temperate and have it served by the glass. If your rose or white gets too warm, re-chill it. I cringe at people putting ice cubes in wine but as a last resort, with basic roses or whites, OK.

Second, stay away from subtle wines. Things like a delicate Saar Riesling, a gentle Viognier, a light Savoie, even Champagne such as Taittinger will all be trampled by the competing smells and flavors outside. Go for wines with gusto: big-bodied roses, white such as Cotes du Rhone white, Argentine Torrontes, New Zealand Sauvignon Blancs, Spanish whites, cava, even some Pennsylvania or New York vidal blanc. Reds like Gigondas, Rueda, Portuguese reds, Madiran, California syrah, Uruguyan tannat, South African Pinotage, Beaujolais maybe.

Third, make sure you have the water of your choice on the table and hydrate with that, not the wine.

Fourth, pay special attention to the food, and remember anything delicate will not taste the same amid the smells and such outside. There’s a reason sausages taste so good in the summer.

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).

Looking for offbeat wines? Good bargains?

The circular for the Chicago-based Wine Discount Center came the other day and I was once again reminded of their fascinating selection and very fair pricing. They are not paying me for this, by the way, but I’d recommend a look at their Web site and signing up for their newsletter – this month it features a dry Alsatian Muscat, a Prum Mosel Kabinett and some excellent Portuguese wines among other treasures. They are especially strong in Champagne and sparkling wines, Beaujolais and the Rhone, also ports and the like.

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.

The beauties of the off-vintages

As Bordeaux prices sail into the stratosphere for top vintages -- a D. Sokolin New York Times ad today listed a bottle (one bottle) of 2003 Ausone for $1,499 (!) -- these great wines become more and more inaccessible for the average wine fan. This is a terrible tragedy, really, because these are the finest red wines in the world on a consistent basis -- as good as great Burgundy can be the inconsistency factor there, especially at $100-plus a bottle, can be supremely disappointing.

So can non-Rockefeller wine fans bid great Bordeaux adieu? Not at all.

The same NYT food section had an ad for 2004 Bordeaux from Zachy's. 2004 is a classic "tweener" vintage -- between the deep-baked grapes of the 2003 heatwave that make, apparently, massive fruit-bomb type reds and the 2005s that everyone is having orgasms over (I must say that the 2005s from Beaujolais are dazzling, so maybe the vintage was great all over France).

People with more money than sense will fling their dollars after 2003s and 2005s -- forgetting the perfectly good 2004s. And the prices in the ad reflect this - classed-growth Pauillac under $28, Grand-Puy Lacoste under $40, Cos d'Estournel at $85, Leoville Les Cases at $90. This is Zachy's too, which is not known for low prices (indeed the opposite).

Believe me, the 2004s at those prices will give immense pleasure.

As an example of what pleasures non-marquee vintages can bring, I drank my last bottle of the 1997s the other day, from Calon-Segur (St. Estephe), one of my very favorite properties, with a roast beef, roasted veggies, Yorkshire Pudding dinner. It could not have been better -- an exotic aroma; rich and racy on first taste, with heady eucalyptus scents roaring up to the nose. Then came light cassis, leather, tobacco, followed by a refreshing finish with a touch of that eucalyptus flavor. Spectacular -- and 1997 was considered a very shaky vintage. (Having said that, it's time to drink up the 97s; a Lafon-Rochet I had in December was sturdily good at first but faded as the night went on.)

In short: skip the overpriced 2000, 2003 and 2005 vintages and go for the off-vintages: there are treasures out there.