The Award-Winning Wine:

Viansa Winery 2006 Syrah

Reason for Reviewing:

Viansa Winery 2006 Syrah earned Best of...

As recommended by The Times, here is a list of 100 winter wines to enjoy all for under £5.  So if your feeling a bit chilly and need something warming inside check out the list for a bargain thriller, and be sure to let us know what you think on Bottletalk.

(Photo Credit: Benjamin Saltzman)

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For those of you who haven’t been keeping up on our sappy stories from the European Wine Blogger’s Conference that took place in La Rioja last weekend, allow me to catch you up. For three days, Robert McIntosh, Ryan and I gathered together several wine bloggers from around the world to meet and chat about…yup, wine blogging.

However, what you, nor anyone else, has known up until today was that we didn’t have a location set for the keynote tasting / dinner until a few weeks before the event - I kid you not. Don’t get me wrong, we were looking! But try as we might, from June to August, getting anything planned and confirmed in Spain is impossible. So with literally days remaining, we used one of Robert’s many Rioja connections - also known as the golden enchufe - to get us a reservation at La Chata.

Now mind you, none of us had ever been there, but the restaurant came on good authority as a wonderful place that would actually seat all 40 bloggers. But get this, they wouldn’t only make room our entire crew, but they even had a separate area where we could host our wine tasting consisting of cases upon cases of wine! This, my friends, was a miracle, and a reservation based on complete faith, because for all we knew, it could have been a mess!

So what made La Chata such an incredible find?

The Perfect Feeling

The historic restaurant is nestled inside the old part of Logrono on a tiny Gothic style street called, Calle Carnicería, just a stones throw away from the Plaza del Mercado and the Catedral de La Redonda. Stepping through the door, you enter a small room holding a set of wooden stairs, a long hallway to the right of the stairs that lead to a white tiled kitchen, and a narrow wooden bar that sits about 6ft in front of an enormous stone oven. Built in 1821, this monster of an oven has seen more carcasses than I hope any of us will have seen in a lifetime, and was the first of its kind in Spain. Two stone ovens were later constructed in the Plaza del Mercado in the early 19th century, primarily for bread, but La Chata had already gained a reputation for creating the first of its kind.

Walking up the stairs, you enter a long cozy room with wooden floors, thick wooden tables and chairs, and cozy atmosphere that feels more appropriate for a large Sunday brunch with a Riojan family than a restaurant filled with foreigners. But strangely enough, that is exactly how they try to make you feel, like part of the family.

La Chata is owned and managed by the Belber family, a patient and loving group of people who were eagerly willing to not only endure my 1001 questions on cooking a suckling pig, but also handling a loud and passionate group of international wine bloggers who were ridiculously excited to experience a traditional Rioja meal. With grace and professionalism, they handled the most inquisitive and cautious among us with a humor, entertainment and kindness. For me, it was a feeling of complete acceptance regardless of whether or not I enjoyed the food. As stated by the chef and owner’s wife, Estela, “How cool that you all came from around the world to appreciate our food and culture. I appreciate that!”. So do we Estela, so do we!

Fourths Anyone?

And as if the service and atmosphere wasn’t cozy and heart-warming enough, the food was quite good. Granted, the caveat being that the conversation and gales of laughter may have influenced my perception, making every dish seem incredible, but hey, take my impressions for what they’re worth. From what I remember, between Juan mistaking Ryan as my brother and Emidio training his child how to differentiate aromas from various wines, in the end, it all tasted good to me

Our meal began with four appetizers:

Ensalada Templada de Perdiz Escabechada con Endibias (Partridge Endive Salad)

Jamón Ibérico de Bellota (Traditional Cured Ham)

Espárragos Especiales de la Ribera (White Asparagus served with Sliced Tomatoes and Mayonnaise)

Revuelto de Boetus Edulis con su Cebolleta Fresca (Scrambled Eggs with Fresh Onion and Edulis Mushrooms)

Of these four, I’d like to call attention to the Revuelto de Boetus Edulis con su Pebolleta Fresca. Having only had Huevos Rotos (scrambled eggs with chorizo and a touch of vanilla) in Rioja, I was extrememly happy to have tried another version. The eggs held a perfect delicate, yet firm texture, while the mushrooms added that earthy flavor that paired beautifully with the 2007 Pazos de Lusco from Rias Baixas. I´m still dreaming about this dish today!

Once the plates were cleared, a large heaping pile of Cochinillo (suckling pig less than 6 months old) was placed on the table with a crisp skin to contrast its tender and juicy meat. This was paired with Escarola de la Tierra con su Aliño de Ajitos, a stiff and curly leafy green lettuce (similar to frise) in a light garlic dressing. The crisp green texture and spicy garlic flavor added that perfect touch to the slightly sweet meat.

In short, this restaurant is a must visit, a place I would highly suggest you go if you wish to experience a traditional Rioja meal in a cozy and quaint family run restaurant, where good service and a big smile are a normal part of the experience. Sigh, only a few months to go before we’re back again. I can’t wait!

Que Aproveche!

Gabriella Opaz

Restauranta Asador La Chata

Carnicerias, 3

26001 Logroño, Spain

+34 9941 251 296

lachata@teleline.es.

http://geo.ya.com/weblachata/bienve.htm

• Some of the Food Culture of La Rioja (warning may cause salivation)
• Dinner at Terete in Haro, La Rioja
• Aromas & Sabores in Campo de Ourique, Lisbon
• Tapas at El Xampanyet
• Wine Bloggers Dinner during Alimentaria in BCN, Hosted by Bodegas Tintoralba

There are a lot of things that I would like to change about wine in America. I'd love to lower the prices, reduce the influence of scores on buying patterns, increase consumption, broaden the varietal mix, and on and on. I've got a long list the next time any omnipotent being comes along and asks my opinion on the situation.

But if I had to choose one thing, above all else, that really needs changing when it comes to America and wine, I would choose to destroy the association between wine and the upper class. The fact that wine continues to be thought of as the beverage of the elite does more damage to the future of the industry in this country than any other phenomenon, in my opinion.

America, it must be said, did not get off on the right foot when it comes to wine. The religious zealots that founded this country were notorious teetotalers, of course. But those who followed the Puritans were Europeans of all stripes and colors, and most had a common familiarity with and appreciation for wine. Indeed, on the face of things, America could very easily have inherited their cultural predisposition for wine on the dinner table.

But it didn't for one primary reason. No one could get the damn grapes to grow right. Attempts were made for years with both imported vines as well as the many various native vines that got the early colonists so excited when they arrived. For a while, America was thought to have the potential to build a wine industry that would flourish by exporting wine back to continental Europe.

But even with the help of the many Huguenots and other wine savvy folks who arrived on American shores with no shortage of expertise in viticulture, very little progress was made. The climate was just all wrong.

Which meant that any real quantity of wine had to be imported, and that meant money, and therefore ensured that for the most part, the upper classes had the means to drink wine, and the masses made do with the products of the bountiful grains and apples that flourished here. In short, most everyone drank a lot of beer, cider, bourbon, and whisky, while the Thomas Jeffersons, Ben Franklins, and other early statesmen of America nursed their imported collections and did their best to encourage local efforts to make wine, but to no avail.

And so, if you'll forgive me squeezing and reducing a lot of complex history into a few sound bites, after about 200 years of this sort of social division, it's no wonder that, for the most part things just stayed that way. The industrial revolution widened the gap between rich and poor, engineering an even greater difference between the consumption habits of the upper classes and the lower classes. There were upswings of interest in wine, especially when people actually started to figure out how and where to grow grapes properly, but by then it was too late. Prohibition (and the rapid recovery of beer and whisky production upon repeal) put the nail in the coffin, and set the stage for people like Robert Mondavi to come along and make the valiant effort to remind everyday Americans that wine belongs on the dinner table every day. And they're still trying.

Meanwhile, wine to many people represents the intimidating, elitist, and snobbish rich. Sarah Palin's quips during the recent campaign about the wine and cocktail drinking elite perfectly illustrate the way that many people think about wine. So too do the many comments on a recent New York Times blog about the words that are used to describe wine. I can't tell you how sad it makes me to see how many people think that attempting to describe the flavors and aromas of wine is an exercise in pretension and snobbery.

But it gets even worse. It's bad enough that the average beer loving American (whoever that is) at best thinks that wine is really just for special occasions, and at worst believes that the people who drink it are rich, stuck-up, pedants. But unfortunately, a lot of wine lovers actually act that way.

In many ways the culture of wine appreciation in America encourages this sense that wine is a luxury for the knowledgeable few. We have the specialized stores. The pomp, ceremony, and mystery that surround wine in conjunction with fine dining. The astronomical prices of top wines in the market. And of course, we have the Big Boys. You know the ones I'm talking about, right? The wine assholes.

Men who feel like they own the province of wine are just the start of our problems. Worse are the ones who also like to reel off the great wines of the world they have drunk with the same gusto as they might bedroom conquests. These are the ones that recoil in horror at the thought of sharing a bottle of 1989 Lafite with their "know-nothing cousins from Des Moines" and instead prefer to save their best bottles for wine dinners that attempt to be the oenological equivalents of an evening with Annabel Chong.

But as much as I sometimes want to punch some of these people in the mouth, I don't see the wine snob as a clear perpetrator of the problem. They're just as much another symptom of the basic travesty -- that somehow we've gotten to the point where wine is far too special. And just as with anything that has cachet, wine in America has become something that many Americans think is only for certain kinds of people. Those wine people.

Of course, this rant of mine paints a rather stark, divided world, which belies the true reality of the marketplace. America is not just a collection of beer drinkers vs. wine drinkers any more than it is a collection of red states vs. blue states. And the country is slowly coming around to wine, thanks to many different factors, not the least of which are the backlash against carbohydrates and the media hype about resveratrol.

But we've got a long way to go to get to an American wine scene that I'll be satisfied with. There are a lot of myths to shatter, a lot of attitudes to adjust, and a lot of evil distribution monopolies to crush before Americans get used to having good wine on their tables every day. But perhaps most importantly, there's a lot of wine that needs to be shared among friends -- a lot of wine that needs to be enjoyed without the trappings of ceremony or status, but instead with the simple appreciation for the fact that we are all so very lucky for what we have.

Go forth and drink without fear, and spread the wine love.

A few quick things about cru Beaujolais, the smaller, distinctive growing areas of Beaujolais.

1. The Burgundy producers are coming!
Prices are relatively low for grapes and real estate. That fact has attracted investment to the region from producers looking to expand: Earlier this year the Champagne (and Burgundy) house Henriot purchased the Chateau de Poncie, a key property in Fleurie. When I asked Joseph Henriot earlier this year about the motivation for the purchase, he pointed to the distinctive terroir (he loves Moulin-a-Vent and Morgon as well as Fleurie) but also the tremendous discount the property had compared to land in Burgundy.

2. Cru Beaujolais can age, maybe even longer than you think
Louis Jadot was one of the earliest notable Burgundy producers to acquire property in the Beaujolais region, notably in Moulin-A-Vent. I tried their Chateau des Jacques 1996 a few months ago and was wildly impressed. Jacques Lardiere, the winemaker (pictured right), told me that the best wines can last decades!

3. I’ve got a cru Beaujolais vertical going–in magnum
Magnums, twice the size of regular bottles, are generally baubles for captains of industry. But you can get a top cru Beaujolais in magnum for less than a lot of second label Bordeaux. Combine this price appeal with the age-worthiness and you can understand why I have several magnums of Deccombes, Desvignes, and a mini-vertical (three vintages!) of Clos de la Roilette cuvee tardive. Cru Beaujolais magnums also make great gifts; to wit, I just got a magnum of Lapierre Morgon 07 at Appellation Wine and Spirits yesterday.

4. Gamay is wildly food friendly!
And at 12.5 percent alcohol, you can have a couple of glasses too and still be able to function after dinner.

5. It’s mostly less expensive than red Burgundy!

6. How would you change the region?
In 1395, Duke Philip the Bold outlawed the humble gamay grape from Burgundy, protecting the premium pinot noir by fiat. What would you do differently if you were the Duke of Beaujolais? I asked Jacques Lardiere what he would do differently if he made his wine in Moulin-a-Vent outside of the appellation system, which mandates certain controls, such as planting the grape gamay. He said, “I would plant pinot noir.”

Don’t forget to join us tonight at 8 PM on Twitter Taste Live raising a glass of local wine or a cru Beaujolais! use #ttl in your comments or follow me.

(Photo Credit: Benjamin Saltzman of Lambarde’s 1668 edition of the Anglo-Saxon laws)

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