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When people often ask me how I "got into wine" I have a sense that they are expecting me to relate some story of a revelatory mouthful -- that one wine which struck me like a lightning bolt and sent me down the path to become the wine fanatic that I am today. Strangely, I possess no story like that about wine. I remember merely a pastiche of many special and prosaic moments with wine that have gradually led to me to the depths of my current passion.
I do, however, have a story like that about how I fell in love with sake.
It was the year 2000, and I was a Director of User Experience at Sapient Corporation, and I was asked whether I would be interested in going to Japan to help the company open an office there. Single at the time, with no pets or other obligations, I excitedly said that I would at least go on the initial exploratory trip, and would make my decision based on that experience.
The company planned to make its introduction to the market with the help of a partner firm, a relatively upstart organization that happened to be headed by several of the former top executives of BCG Japan. Our second night in the country, they took us out to what, at the time, was the best sushi I had ever eaten in my life in a private sushi club in Tokyo's Roppongi district. I knew that my job description that evening was going to involve the consumption of a lot of alcohol, but I didn't much care for beer. So when it was offered, I asked politely if I might drink sake instead. The CEO of our partner firm barked at the chef behind the sushi counter, and that's when it happened.
In my memory, the lights dim a little bit around the restaurant so that the sushi chef is bathed in the sole splash of bright light. He places a beautiful small wineglass on the counter, its bowl foggy with the chill of the freezer he has just taken it from. Then he turns slowly and reaches down below the counter to emerge with a huge brown bottle in his arms, its striking handmade paper label brushed with a stroke that resembles a huge number "2." My glass is poured and placed in front of me, shimmering and cool. And my first sip is like drinking a pristine glacial lake under a full moon.
I had the presence of mind to keep my initial outburst to something along the lines of "Wow, this is really good." But what I really meant was "Holy fucking shit, THIS IS SAKE?!?"
In that moment, I knew that I wanted to drink fine chilled sake for the rest of my life. I wanted to try as much as possible, as many different kinds as possible, and as often as I possibly could.
And that was my introduction to the sake known as Kubota Manju.
To put this in terms that might make more sense to wine lovers, here's an analogy: until that point I had been drinking sparkling wine from a box (heated up in the microwave, I might add) and then someone poured me my first glass of properly chilled Krug Champagne.
Kubota Manju is produced by a brewery known as Asahi Shuzo in the Niigata prefecture of western Japan, and it may well be the most well known fine sake in the world. Asahi Shuzo was founded in 1830 and is the largest producer in Niigata prefecture, and therefore one of the largest producers in all of Japan. Just as the massive Champagne houses who manage to strike a fine balance between making huge quantities of product at a very high quality, elevated further by a globally recognized brand, so too has Asahi Shuzo managed to turn Kubota into the Cristal of sake. The brand of the drink has eclipsed the people who have made it.
Kubota is a trade name -- one of the very first successful "brands" of fine sake on the market. The sake was originally named Asahiyama, and was finally branded Kubota in 1985, taking the nickname that the brewery had enjoyed. The Kubota line of sakes, and Kubota Manju in particular, gained massive popularity in the 1980s as Japan rekindled (some would say created) its appreciation for fine sake, partially due to simply good timing and savvy marketing, but also no doubt because of its extremely high quality and taste.
Asahi Shuzo was one of the pioneers of the fine sake movement (which has only really been around for about 50 years, and successful for 30), and in particular was one of the first to use stainless steel tanks for making sake. The use of steel in sake making has a similar effect to the use of steel in winemaking. It is more hygienic, leading to lower numbers of outside or unwanted bacteria during the fermentation process, and tends to accentuate the fruit. Or in the case of sake, the floral qualities of the rice.
Kubota Manju is an unusual sake in several respects, independent of its popularity or quality. It carries no formal designation of its level of quality, which is why I've had to note the fact that it is actually a junmai daiginjo sake parenthetically above. For those of you who aren't familiar with sake designations, this means that it is made from rice that has been polished down to at least 50% of its former mass, and includes no added alcohol in the brewing process. Not content to stop just past the 50% mark, Kubota Manju is usually made from rice polished down to about 33% of its former mass.
Instead of such quality designations, the Kubota line of sakes are simply given numbers, if you will to correspond to their quality. The "ju" in the name roughly translates to "celebrations" or "congratulations" (though some snidely suggest it might mean "ostentatious") and the other character is a number. Kubota Manju means roughly "10,000 celebrations." The two lower grades of Kubota are known as Senju (1000) and Hyakuju (100), respectively. There are also two or three other, even higher, grades of sake made with the Kubota name every year, as well.
There is a reason that this is the most popular and most well known fine sake in all of Japan. It is the same reason that I couldn't have asked for a better introduction into the world of fine, chilled sake. It is delicate, refined, and incredibly high class, in addition to being a textbook example of top class sake from an organoleptic standpoint, and definitely one of the world's top sakes.
While in the past nine years I have discovered sakes that I like better than Kubota Manju, it will always remain one of my favorites, both for nostalgic reasons, and because it really is damn good. I buy a bottle or two to bring back with me from Japan every time I visit, which isn't nearly often enough.
Tasting Notes: Colorless in the glass, this sake has a nose of cedar trees and fresh rainwater, with hints of dried orange peel aromas. In the mouth it is smooth and silky, with a beautiful weight on the tongue and a perfect dry balance that allows flavors of tuberose and orange blossom to mingle with hints of cedar and wet stone that leave the palate feeling alive and refreshed. Outstanding.
Food Pairing: I love drinking this sake with sushi and sashimi of all kinds, but in particular with the creamy goodness of raw scallops.
January 6th, 2005 was my first post to this new blog. Below is how it all started if interested. The popularity of our blog has surprised us. We try to stick to reviewing wine without a bunch of yada yada although I am the worst offender for what may be too much yada yada. It's just that the supreme enjoyment of wine is not merely what is in the bottle but whole experience of fellowship surrounding the event. And what is amazing is that you can have an "event" as mundane as a 3:00 snack, but add a bottle of wine, and it becomes an ocassion! I will resolve to temper my yada yada's without losing the experience. Raise a glass with us to a new year and we hope you visit us and leave comments--often.
How it all started: It was 1979 and I was putting my time in at a hospital laboratory as a medical technologist. Someone brought in a magazine subtitled ?The magazine for physicians at leisure.? On my breaks I would page through it because it had some really nice photos of far away places in gorgeous spots of the world. In one issue there was a feature titled, ?The Ten Best Wines in America for under $10.?
Wine had intrigued me yet my exposure to the fruit of the vine had pretty much been relegated to the annual Thanksgiving sip my parents would serve of?sit down?Mogen- David wine. Even as a kid, I thought it had more in common with cough syrup than a drinkable beverage. That exposure is probably why I was much more a Guinness Stout kind of guy if anything at all.
Still, the mythical stories of the guy who could sit down with a glass of fermented grape juice in front of him and tell you the place it was made, the year it was made and the particular type of grape or grapes fascinated me. So, ?What made a good wine, a good wine??
Even I could afford a $10 bottle of wine every now and then so if the ones in the magazine represented the best in the country, I wanted to know what they tasted like and began to hunt down everyone I could. That was it; I was hooked. I joined a wine club called ?Les Amis Du Vin? which means ?Friends of the Vine? which entitled me to the wine of the month at a local dealer which meant I could get one bottle of the month?s selection for half price. That was the beginning of a lifetime pursuit of what has been an absolutely inexhaustible quest to understand wine. Do not misunderstand though, I am NOT a connoisseur but I do know a good wine from a mediocre wine from a bad wine. And I know a great value when I find one which these days abound! Australia, New Zealand, Argentina and Chile are producing wines not by the hundreds or thousands of cases but by the hundreds of thousands of cases. With that kind of volume, phenomenal bargains are all over the place!
So if you are serious about pursuing wine beyond a bottle here and there, you have to subscribe to the Wine Spectator magazine. It will cost you $45 a year but is worth every penny. And will save you ten times that in a year by helping you to avoid over-priced and over-hyped wines. Their rating system is irrespective of a wine?s cost so when you see a wine that rates an 88 out of 100 scale and it costs $8 and then another wine that rates an 86 which cost $55; the savings are obvious. Til next time--
January 6th, 2005 was my first post to this new blog. Below is how it all started if interested. The popularity of our blog has surprised us. We try to stick to reviewing wine without a bunch of yada yada although I am the worst offender for what may be too much yada yada. It's just that the supreme enjoyment of wine is not merely what is in the bottle but whole experience of fellowship surrounding the event. And what is amazing is that you can have an "event" as mundane as a 3:00 snack, but add a bottle of wine, and it becomes an ocassion! I will resolve to temper my yada yada's without losing the experience. Raise a glass with us to a new year and we hope you visit us and leave comments--often.
How it all started: It was 1979 and I was putting my time in at a hospital laboratory as a medical technologist. Someone brought in a magazine subtitled ?The magazine for physicians at leisure.? On my breaks I would page through it because it had some really nice photos of far away places in gorgeous spots of the world. In one issue there was a feature titled, ?The Ten Best Wines in America for under $10.?
Wine had intrigued me yet my exposure to the fruit of the vine had pretty much been relegated to the annual Thanksgiving sip my parents would serve of?sit down?Mogen- David wine. Even as a kid, I thought it had more in common with cough syrup than a drinkable beverage. That exposure is probably why I was much more a Guinness Stout kind of guy if anything at all.
Still, the mythical stories of the guy who could sit down with a glass of fermented grape juice in front of him and tell you the place it was made, the year it was made and the particular type of grape or grapes fascinated me. So, ?What made a good wine, a good wine??
Even I could afford a $10 bottle of wine every now and then so if the ones in the magazine represented the best in the country, I wanted to know what they tasted like and began to hunt down everyone I could. That was it; I was hooked. I joined a wine club called ?Les Amis Du Vin? which means ?Friends of the Vine? which entitled me to the wine of the month at a local dealer which meant I could get one bottle of the month?s selection for half price. That was the beginning of a lifetime pursuit of what has been an absolutely inexhaustible quest to understand wine. Do not misunderstand though, I am NOT a connoisseur but I do know a good wine from a mediocre wine from a bad wine. And I know a great value when I find one which these days abound! Australia, New Zealand, Argentina and Chile are producing wines not by the hundreds or thousands of cases but by the hundreds of thousands of cases. With that kind of volume, phenomenal bargains are all over the place!
So if you are serious about pursuing wine beyond a bottle here and there, you have to subscribe to the Wine Spectator magazine. It will cost you $45 a year but is worth every penny. And will save you ten times that in a year by helping you to avoid over-priced and over-hyped wines. Their rating system is irrespective of a wine?s cost so when you see a wine that rates an 88 out of 100 scale and it costs $8 and then another wine that rates an 86 which cost $55; the savings are obvious. Til next time--
Yesterday I was driving to the older part of town to visit a friend who was in the hospital. He has been a mentor to me, and as I was nearing the facility, I saw the old street where my dad and his family had lived more than 90 years ago. The picture above was taken there, 1313 Hall Street, Dallas, Texas, where my dad was born. The house is gone. All that remains of his original family is his sister, my aunt Mary. She's the little baby in my grandmother's arms. My friend in the hospital was asleep, but he didn?t look well. He is dying. I know the look, the sound, the smell. If it were a wine, I would describe it thus: pale and a bit cloudy. The bouquet has faded with a light scent of dried rose petals and ripe, aged Asiago. In the flavors there is a little tinge of acid, the tannins are all gone, the fruit is fleeting, and the finish is swift.
Hopefully, my friend's will be as well. For his sake.
It had been raining, and the streets were damp and saturated. It reminded me of Ireland, of a hopeless and miserable Dublin after a night of drinking too much Guinness and too little sleep. Cold, dank, unredeemable.
I was near my friend's wine store and hadn?t eaten all day (it was 2 p.m.), so I stopped in to get a sandwich, and ended up working the floor.
The store was crowded, and Sinatra was crooning over the speakers. A young man came up to me and asked me about the Italian Club. I gave him the requisite information and encouraged him to stop in at one of the Wednesday wine tastings they are starting to do. Then he reached out his hand to shake mine. My hand was bleeding from a boxcutter that had slipped when I was arranging some wine case stacks. I didn't even know I had cut myself. All in a day's work, even if it is a Saturday. Or a Sunday. Grab some tape, cover the cut and back to arranging bottles and straightening shelf-talkers.
In the past, we didn?t need an Italian Club. We had the Family. On Sundays like today, my family would spend the day together, eating, drinking, carousing at the beach or in a vineyard somewhere, in Sicily, Dallas, Los Angeles.
My dad and his dad would hang out together. My son is in Vegas, working. My dad and his dad are gone. It?s Sunday again, and I?m sitting in my room writing about something that doesn?t exist anymore.
My dad and his dad were in business together, for a while. I don?t think my father liked that too much. Probably my grandfather wasn?t too clued in on his son?s aspirations. I think my dad probably wanted to be some kind of artist, maybe an actor. He certainly ended up in the right place for it, Los Angeles in the 1930?s. The golden age of American cinema. But my dad cobbled, and my grandfather acquired real estate, and the ship sailed on. E la nave? va.
Once, when my grandfather had made a pile of money, he loaded his young family up and sailed back to Palermo for a while. He was now an American, and while he was going back to Italy for a while, he could never stay there indefinitely. He had crossed over into the American dream. He was making it big. In the picture he wasn?t more than 24 years old, but the opportunities that he had reached for paid off early. My son is now 30 years old. I wonder if the opportunities for his generation will ever afford him a chance for a good life. It doesn?t seem as bright now. Warmer, yes. Brighter, no.
When my mom and dad were married in 1936, they took their Ford roadster up the California coast. They were building the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. My parents were 21 years old, hopeful for happiness in their future and their children?s future. For their honeymoon, they tooled up Coast Highway 1 into a world we can only dream about now.
The Great Depression was receding, and war was a few years off. It was a moment to enjoy all that the possibility of life had to offer.
On those Sundays leading up to those years, they would spend sun-drenched days at the beach with their Wise Guy uncles and their Hollywood girlfriends. They were ?A? listing through life, the Golden Age of the American Dream. Cigarettes didn?t cause cancer, yet. Diseases were being conquered. The atom was being harnessed. Seat belts weren?t necessary. Front doors needn?t be locked. Out in the San Fernando Valley and Escondido and Cucamonga, the family would picnic in the vineyards. Note the happy faces and the glasses of wine. My dad with some of the many women in his family. His Aunt Mary, his sister (my aunt) Mary, Josie and Cuccia, Tootsie and Anna, and Rosemary and on. So pristine in the simplicity of their happiness. Wine, women and song. And food, what great food. Local, fresh, not microwaved, not from a can. California, the Golden State in a golden age. My mom and dad, with riding boots. Chances are, Dad made them. How much my son looks like him. I now am the age my father was when I wondered what it would be like to be his age. I think I might be happier at this age than he was, but his youth sure looked good from this vantage point. And my mom, the classic Italian beauty. She?s almost 93 and still pretty fired-up about life and living. Thank God she?s in good shape. My friend in the hospital, what I wouldn?t give for him to have been that fortunate, too. My Aunt Josephine, on the right in the picture, next to her brother Felice and his East Texas bride, Reba. And my dad and mom. A night out on the town. Was it in Dallas? Or Hollywood? They look out at me from this picture as if to say, ?Bring us your best bottle of Italian wine, and come sit down with us and enjoy your family.? If only I could, Uncle Phil. My mom and my Aunt Jo are both in their 90?s now, both in pretty good health. Still driving. But not in the rain.
My dad?s sister, Aunt Mary, called me today. She was checking in with me. Her husband passed away a few years ago. Her son-in-law died a little over a year ago. Last summer one of her grandsons had an accident in the ocean, and he too is gone. So she called to see if I was still here, still around.
Yes, Aunt Mary. Many of them are gone but we are still here, those of us on the edges of the photographs. Still ticking and kicking. Still dreaming and still looking for a way to make all this work out. I miss our Family Sundays. And so I sit here and put down these thoughts for the internets to hold, for another place and time and people. It was a great time, and the memories feed the heart and the soul, on Sundays, when the family is spread out far.
My brother-in-law Nick was born a hunter. Growing up in Greece during WWII, where famine was the norm at the time, he learned how to survive at a very early age. When his family immigrated to the New World, settling in Southern California, I could only imagine what he must have felt like, as a child. He took to California and the American Dream like a duck to water.
All this as an introduction in the way of a comparison. Nick, being a hunter, is one of a handful of hunters who have made it into the Grand Slam Club. You can read about it here. The guy loves to hunt, fish, golf, win. I mean, we were sitting outside having lunch and I caught him stalking prairie dogs, it?s just in his blood.
Oh, and he likes wine. Italian wine, California wine, French wine. Good wine.
On a visit earlier this month at his and my sisters rambling Tuscan ranch house, on the 16th green of a PGQ gold course in Indian Wells, we got to opening a few bottles of wine. And talking about what makes a wine great. It got me to thinking about the way we collect our wines. Are they trophies to put on a rack and lay claim to bragging rights? Or is there a deeper meaning to the wines we have opened, enjoyed and appreciated over the years?
Is there an Italian Grand Slam for wines? And if so, what would they be?
In my mind I?d be putting Barolo and Barbaresco up on the wall. Brunello? Most likely, but these days, Brunello is bothering me. If you put it into the context of 50 or so years, then OK. But right now, I?d say Brunello is on probation with a lot of us.
The fourth wine? Amarone? A Maremma red, maybe from Bolgheri? Something from the Valtellina? A Taurasi? What do you think?
About ten years ago my brother-in-law and sister and I were having breakfast at a hotel. A few tables away Angelo Gaja and his field rep were seated. I mentioned to my brother-in-law that the gentleman about his age was a famous Italian winemaker. I went over to the table and said hello. After all I had first sold Gaja?s wines in 1981.
When I came back to the table, Nick seemed surprised that I knew and had done business with such a famous wine personality. I explained to him that once you enter into the field, most doors will open one day or another, no big deal.
But Gaja has not only entered the Grand Slam Club. In his winemaking ventures he also has produced the grand Slam wines if you see those four wines as Barolo, Barbaresco, Brunello and Bolgheri. So to him, hats off. I only wish I could taste through some of these wines once in a while. They seem to have moved to an arena where other wines that I used to enjoy, wines like Pomerols and Pauillacs, have also migrated to. The investor classes.
No doubt Barolo, Barbaresco and Brunello are in my club. But the fourth wine? I?d like to think Amarone might rate high and Taurasi as well. Not yet with Sicily, nor Sardegna, sorry islanders. Not yet.
I do have fond memories of Chambave Rouge. But that is a wine for the ages now and the storytellers. I guess Neal Rosenthal and I are some of the few lucky chaps to still have a bottle or two around of the legendary 1961 from Ezio Voyat.
I?m sure my brother-in-law, if he was playing this game, would put Sassicaia on that wall of fame. And prior to the 1990?s I would agree. But that just gives the wine two decades to have proven itself. Is that enough? Is the wine still capable of evoking legendary emotions?
After last years trip to the Valtellina, I was hopeful. And while I won't rule it out, there?s still not enough time for those wines, in modern times, to have redeemed their once lofty status.
My mind seeks to focus my gaze through the crosshairs; focus. Is it even another red wine we seek?
Ahhh, “Dear Abby“…what ever happened to that in this age of near real-time social media…anyway, here’s one thats worth a chuckle (but not worth the e-mail bandwidth its probably taking up!).
Maybe this is a way to reduce traffic on the Internet, just post funny stuff up on a blog and send friends the links not giant emails.
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Dear Abby:
I have never written to you before, but I really need your advice. I have suspected for some time now that my wife has been cheating on me. The usual signs; phone rings but if I answer, the caller hangs up. My wife has been going but with ‘the girls’ a lot recently — although when I ask their names, she always says, “just some friends from work, you don’t know them.” I always try to stay awake to look out for her coming home, but I usually fall asleep. Anyway, I have never approached the subject with my wife. I think deep down I just did not want to know the truth, but last night she went out again and I decided to check on her finally. Around midnight, I decided to hide in the garage behind my golf clubs so I could get a good view of the whole street when she arrived home from a night out with ‘the girls.’ When she got out of the car she was buttoning up her blouse, which was open, and she took her panties out of her purse and slipped them on. It was at that moment, crouching behind my golf clubs, that I noticed a hairline crack where the grip meets the graphite shaft on my 3-wood. Is this something I can or should try to fix myself, or should I take it back to the pro-shop where I bought it and try to get a refund?
Social media is creating quite a long tail of industries - lots of software companies, consultants, new modes of public relations, etc, etc. Some of them focused on getting you into using social media, which is great, and many of them aspiring to help you “use” social media for your business. The latter point is what I find interesting.
I’ve spoken on the topic of social media before (with assistance from the self-proclaimed “Bonafide Marketing Genius” Marta Kagan - FYI, I’m glad she has the confidence in herself to tag herself that way b/c she’s one of the few I would actually agree with) and I think the biggest point from my talk and others that I’ve seen (like Marta’s deck) is that this all is an excercise in sociology. There are so many technologies that one could use, so many things that you could do, but in the end what is happening to the web is just another means of connecting, interacting, and getting to know people; not unlike joining a social club (like a sports team, a cultural center, or whatever). In fact, just as you have “different circles of friends” offline (work friends, drinking buddies, sports friends), you’ll develop the same thing online and your community will drive you to the tools.
That’s where the idea “use social media” sticks in my craw a little bit.
I’ve had this blog since 2004 and I’ve interacted with many many people thanks to it. It’s mainly an outlet for my thoughts, creativity, and passion (wine, technology, and marketing) and I’ve made a serious number of friends in the wine industry because of it. My goal was to do exactly that, get to know people in the wine industry. One of the major things its taught me though is that the only way to truly understand what this “social media” thing is all about is to get out and do it. BUT - do it with a genuine desire and understand that its a means to reach out to a community (blog in particular). Its not a sales tool and its not a PR tool for social media any more then going to a conference is a PR tool for you. What I mean is you can go to a conference, chat with people, network, find people that you can stay connected with. If you contribute to the conference (effectively contributing to the ‘community’ that the conference is bringing together) then you can get noticed and in that sense you get some good word-of-mouth publicity.
But here is how to think of “use social media” (Ugh!). Its a sociological, human based filter. Its not a broadcast engine like the “information super highway” or the “series of tubes”. Doesn’t matter what tool/site you use, first and foremost your community has to be on that site and/or using that tool. There is always a “critical mass” that needs to be achieved before the tool gets useful. Kind of like a party, its not really fun until there are a bunch of people you know there.
Once your community is there, interacting, chatting, whatever then the dynamics of what happens is facinating. Things start to get “useful” and the human filter is formed. It becomes a situation where the community is as close as a bunch of office mates even though they are all over the world. I literally consider the community I interact with on Twitter my “virtual office mates” and I genuinely like interacting with them. The reason is that you can contribute (chat, answer questions, and otherwise participate) just like you would any other office. In the case of Twitter, it becomes just like a hallway conversation in an office. You can ignore it for a while, pop your head in with a little bit of nothing to say, put out some information or useful tool to the community, or you can put out a serious question to the group and get some solid answers. Pretty much how you would for any office with cubilcles and hallways.
The best part of all this is that when the community reaches critical mass of people in a certain technology/tool who genuinely like to talk about a particular topic, forming an open community, thats when the best things come out. If you contribute something to that community that is truly useful, it will get passed on to everyone very quickly. People will decide if what you said is interesting, show their friends and, if its applicable, their friends may pass on the information to their other “open communities”. The network effect takes over and your information has just become “viral” (i.e. it will spread not only in the current ‘circle of friends’ but to other ‘circles of friends’). More importantly, the human filter took over and since that useful piece of information you generated is actually VERY useful, it will get passed on for a while (or very funny, or very interesting in some other way - the latest on Twitter was a streaming video of puppies, not useful, just very Zen).
So if you find an open community or want to know where there is critical mass already for a community you want to learn about (for instance - the wine community is embracing Twitter and Social Networks) on one of these tools the best way to “use social media” (I hate the term because it makes me feel like “use your friends”, but I guess there isn’t a better way to say it) is to contribute in significant ways. Add to the community but more importantly be YOURSELF. If people like you, they like you. If they don’t, guess what…they don’t. There isn’t alot of advice that can be given there that your parents should’ve taught you before Kindergarten. Thats the funny truth of this “social media” craze. The fundamental sociological point is that this is making friends. Because even if you contribute something that spreads from network to network like wildfire, when those people check you out and “follow you” on Twitter, or Facebook, or whatever, then they start to get to know you in a more personal way then anyone over 25 ever thought possible. If you’re obviously contributing to promote your business it will come across. If you genuinely approach this medium (regardless of technology) as “getting to know people” in the way you’ve always done then you’ll not only have that “viral hit” you won’t be an online “one hit wonder”, you’ll have friends who can help you when you’re down, connect you to others, help you build business, get emotionally invested in your brand…. i.e. you’ll be a part of a community and how you do that is something your Mom and Dad shoulda taught you.
FYI - if you’re doing it for a business/brand it doesn’t matter - if people don’t like your personality, they won’t like your brand. These things have a way of piercing the corporate PR veil. Want an example? Supposedly Cisco “gets” blogging. Read their blogs and you tell me what you think….
Négociant Cameron Hughes has made a name for himself selecting and sometimes blending wines that drink like twice or sometimes three times their asking price. Using direct to consumer marketing on his website and distribution through warehouse retailers like Costco and Sam’s Club, Hughes effectively disintermediates the 3-tier wine distribution system here in the U.S. This means he can make money selling $10-20 wines that he sources from some of the top producers around the world.
This past Saturday I presented three of his wines as part of Twitter Taste Live 5. All the wines were provided by Cameron Hughes as samples but I was very impressed with each wine which I will review over the next few weeks here. But the most impressive wine was a new release today, Lot 93, a 2004 Tempranillo from Spain’s Rioja region.
When I opened this wine Saturday, the brand on the cork indicated the producer is Bodegas Covila. On my visit to the region last year, I was struck by how every winery seemed to age their wines as “shiners” or unlabeled, selling the wine when it was “ready to drink.” This old school philosophy makes many wines from Spain tremendous values and provides stock for folks like Cameron Hughes to buy and label for his customers. The result is one of the best values I’ve ever seen as this could easily sell for $50-60 a bottle.
Tasting notes:
Cameron Hughes, “Lot 93″, Tempranillo, Rioja 2004 ($21/sample) - Dark ruby in color with black cherry, cassis, fennel, cocoa and vanilla aromas. Sleek and concentrated black cherry & dark currant fruit with some black pepper and a touch of earth finishing long with firm, but surprisingly well integrated, tannins. A well structured wine that will age for another 5-8 years. The most extreme value I’ve tasted yet from this négociant. Highly recommended.
13.5% ABV Natural cork closure Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
Thomas Jefferson was a polymath, who, among his other pursuits, was a very impressive and knowledgeable wine expert and enthusiast. If he lived today he would also be called a “wine geek”.
Mr Jefferson also happened to be the third President of the United States, principal author of the Declaration of Independence, Founding Father of the United States, Governor of Virginia, first American Minister to France and founder of the University of Virginia in Charlottesville. He promoted the ideals of republicanism in the United States, an ideology that encourages a system of government that emphasizes liberties and rights, and makes the people as a whole sovereign, which underlies the philosophy of democracy.
Brian Clark and Ted Burns interview John Hailman, author of the book, “Thomas Jefferson on Wine”.
Not something you read about much are the wines of Laithwaites, despite being one of the largest wine retailers in the UK. They offer wines under the laithwaites brand, The Sunday Times Wine Club, Direct Wines and the Nectar Wine Club amongst others. They delivered a mammoth 56 million bottles of wine across the UK during the last 12 months.
A little tasting a few weeks back (I'm falling behind with my note writing!), in the high Victorian Gothic splendours of Oxford Town Hall (such a welcome change from having to trundle all the way to the metropolis), offered a just under 30 wines from the companies range.
A vast majority of the wines offered are own label - just a smattering from well known names (Cloudy Bay, Royal Tokaji, Hunters for example) appear on their list. The company owns a Chateau in Bordeaux where many staff are sent to learn the intercacies of wine making. Visiting a vineyard and winery is an amazing experience and really brings home the connection between land and final product.
Shame then that the Laithwaite Sauvignon Blanc (£7.89) from this estate, Chateau La Clarière was one of the worst wines available at the tasting. Perhaps they should send me a bottle to try for the girls running the tasting were hugely enthused by it and their experiences of visiting the estate, but my notes read slightly over extracted, harsh nose, sharp acidic finish.
But other drinks were more palatable:
Review0.3 Wine Tasting Note: Alessandro Gallici Prosecco Brut, NV, Vino Spumante, Italy. Price: £8.89 [More: Adegga / Snooth] Gentle nose, vibrant fizz (like you were expecting something else?), frothy, fun. Tranch of peachy, appley, fruit. Good price. Alcohol 11.5%.
Review0.3 Wine Tasting Note: Royal Tokaji Dry Furmint, 2006, Hungary. Price: £10.69 [More: Adegga / Snooth] An unusual wine with which to tempt the masses; I imagine trying is the best way to sell this (there was a wine club tasting, with the same wines as offered to me occurring simultaneously in an adjacent room) . No nose but an interesting array of flavours on the palate - clean, minerally, citrus, slightly honeyed, apricoty.
Review0.3 Wine Tasting Note: Rocky Rombola Rosé, 2008, New South Wales, Australia Price: £6.29 [More: Adegga / Snooth] Delicious looking colour, vibrant. Very Aussie in style, ripe fruit, full, good price. A freshness and vibrancy (that were lacking in a couple of other rosés at the tasting). Along with the fruitiness there is a nice, sharp berry edge on the finish. Alcohol 13%. £6.29.
Review0.3 Wine Tasting Note: Gran Valle de Niebla Pinot Noir, 2007, Rapel, Chile Price: £9.15 [More on Adegga / Snooth] From the reliable Cono Sur stable. Easy drinking, soft, but over-priced. Alcohol 13.5%.
Review0.3 Wine Tasting Note: Stony Creek Tarrango Shiraz, 2006, Big Rivers, Fleurieu & Gundagai, Australia Price: £7.39 [More on Adegga / Snooth] An interesting blend (70% Tarrango, 30% Shiraz) Light and fruity almost pinot in style. Tarrango on the nose, Syrah on the finish. Offers a juicy softness. Alcohol 13%. £7.39.
Review0.3 Wine Tasting Note: Tenca Tree Shiraz , 2007, Central Valley, Chile Price: £6.29 [More on Adegga / Snooth] Deep,almost opaque in colour. Good blackberry spiced nose and decent spicy finish. Commercial,soft but nice expression. Alcohol 13%.
Review0.3 Wine Tasting Note: San Floriano Ripasso, 2005, Valpolicella Classico Superiore, Italy Price: £11.39 [More on Adegga / Snooth] The best red of the tasting - lovely palate, and rich, expressive nose. Plenty of tannins, concentration and ripe, stewed fruit. Good length. Alcohol 13.5%.
Review0.3 Cider Tasting Note: Cidre Artisanal Le Brun Brut, NV, Cidre de Bretagne, France Price: £4.29 Not really a cider fan but this is rather nice - not 'dirty; as some ciders can be on the nose, not to alcoholic either (which is the normal region I dislike cider). Alcohol 5.5%. Sweetish fruit, dry finish £4.29.
Review0.3 Wine Tasting Note: Miranda Golden Botrytis, NV, Riverina, Australia Price: £11.15 half bottle [More: Adegga / Snooth] A mix of Riverina Semillon and King Valley Riesling. Fresh, treacle and orange syrup nose. Rich, full, sweet, mouth-filling, ripe and good complexity for the price. Alcohol 10%.
Many years ago I was interviewed for a job at Laithwaites essentially writing the (prodigiously large and frequent) mailing material; much to their loss I didn't get the job!
Port wines can seem like a challenging subject. There are all sorts of bottlings: vintage date, late-bottled vintage date, Colheitas, single Quintas, and still others know as ruby reserve, crusted, or white — and let?s not forget the various tawny Ports of 10, 20, 30 and 40 years of age. Why are there so many different bottlings, and where does one begin to explore all of these fortified wines? Thankfully, we had the opportunity to talk with Louisa Fry from the Port and Douro Wines In
Tecnorati
Yesterday I was driving to the older part of town to visit a friend who was in the hospital. He has been a mentor to me, and as I was nearing the facility, I saw the old street where my dad and his family had lived more than 90 years ago. The picture above was taken there, 1313 Hall Street, Dallas, Texas, where my dad was born. The house is gone. All that remains of his original family is his sister, my aunt Mary. She's the little baby in my grandmother's arms. 
Cigarettes didn?t cause cancer, yet. Diseases were being conquered. The atom was being harnessed. Seat belts weren?t necessary. Front doors needn?t be locked. 
Out in the San Fernando Valley and Escondido and Cucamonga, the family would picnic in the vineyards. Note the happy faces and the glasses of wine.
My dad with some of the many women in his family. His Aunt Mary, his sister (my aunt) Mary, Josie and Cuccia, Tootsie and Anna, and Rosemary and on. So pristine in the simplicity of their happiness. Wine, women and song. And food, what great food. Local, fresh, not microwaved, not from a can. California, the Golden State in a golden age.
My mom and dad, with riding boots. Chances are, Dad made them. How much my son looks like him. I now am the age my father was when I wondered what it would be like to be his age. I think I might be happier at this age than he was, but his youth sure looked good from this vantage point. And my mom, the classic Italian beauty. She?s almost 93 and still pretty fired-up about life and living. Thank God she?s in good shape. My friend in the hospital, what I wouldn?t give for him to have been that fortunate, too.
My Aunt Josephine, on the right in the picture, next to her brother Felice and his East Texas bride, Reba. And my dad and mom. A night out on the town. Was it in Dallas? Or Hollywood? They look out at me from this picture as if to say, ?Bring us your best bottle of Italian wine, and come sit down with us and enjoy your family.? If only I could, Uncle Phil. My mom and my Aunt Jo are both in their 90?s now, both in pretty good health. Still driving. But not in the rain.
My brother-in-law Nick was born a hunter. Growing up in Greece during WWII, where famine was the norm at the time, he learned how to survive at a very early age. When his family immigrated to the New World, settling in Southern California, I could only imagine what he must have felt like, as a child. He took to California and the American Dream like a duck to water.
On a visit earlier this month at his and my sisters rambling Tuscan ranch house, on the 16th green of a PGQ gold course in Indian Wells, we got to opening a few bottles of wine. And talking about what makes a wine great. It got me to thinking about the way we collect our wines. Are they trophies to put on a rack and lay claim to bragging rights? Or is there a deeper meaning to the wines we have opened, enjoyed and appreciated over the years?
In my mind I?d be putting Barolo and Barbaresco up on the wall. Brunello? Most likely, but these days, Brunello is bothering me. If you put it into the context of 50 or so years, then OK. But right now, I?d say Brunello is on probation with a lot of us.
About ten years ago my brother-in-law and sister and I were having breakfast at a hotel. A few tables away Angelo Gaja and his field rep were seated. I mentioned to my brother-in-law that the gentleman about his age was a famous Italian winemaker. I went over to the table and said hello. After all I had first sold Gaja?s wines in 1981.
No doubt Barolo, Barbaresco and Brunello are in my club. But the fourth wine? I?d like to think 
This past Saturday I presented three of his wines as part of 
