It’s pretty easy to call a wine sweet: it has a perceptible level of residual sugar in it (five grams of residual sugar is often considered the threshold of perception). Sweet wines generally start at about 45 grams of residual sugar (RS). Some wines, such as Tokay, have require a minimum level 60 grams of RS and rate wines by sweetness with six puttonyos being instant diabetes.

What’s the opposite of sweet? Dry. All the discernible sugar has been converted to alcohol during the fermentation process. Tricky since you might think the opposite of dry is wet and, well, all wine is wet. Dry doesn’t have to do with high tannins, which might make you go “chomp, chomp” and think “OMG, my mouth is drying out! I need water!” It’s just close to zero grams of residual sugar.

And there’s a middle ground of “off-dry,” or slightly sweet. Silly term, I agree (what is it, moist?). Slightly sweeter than that can be called medium dry. If you want to get all wonky geeky, off-dry might be five to fifteen grams of RS and medium dry, from fifteen to forty. Some countries and/or regions are so wonky geeky that they have specific terms and laws for these levels.

Oddly enough, a wine with a lower amount of residual sugar can sometimes taste sweeter than one with a slightly higher amount; it’s often a question of balance with acidity and one category that can be hard to discern in this regard is Champagne, which also as carbon dioxide zooming at your palate as well.

I bring this up because it came up in the comments of this recent posting about “light” as a wine style. And it comes up regularly in my NYU class. If you want to see sweet and dry in action, try tasting these two Leitz wines or a Northern Rhone syrah against a ripe, sweet version of the same grape from somewhere in the New World (but not all are ripe and sweet).

You might have to walk past this one a few times before you pick it up. The small black and white vineyard scene on the label depicts terroir, but it does so in a quiet way. You eventually pick up the bottle. After all, it's an affordable Pinot Noir, and you're curious about its roots in Argentina. Flipping to the back label, you read the description and discover this is one of Dan Kravitz' Hand Picked Selections. That closes the sale on the first of many bottles.

At any given time, if you find an importer that you can trust, that's great. If that importer is finding real bargains, you have a personal shopper. There are so many labels and so much good wine out there, a solid importer like Dan Kravitz can help you cut through a lot of clutter.

Alfredo Roca Mendoza Pinot Noir 2007 is a versatile red with nothing to hide. Though terroir is a difficult term to define, this wine embodies it. Beneath the bright garnet color, you begin to pick up some rocky overtones in addition to the prevailing black cherry, vanilla and roasted aromas that conspire to stimulate your appetite. Then plum and red currant preserves, herbal and earthy flavor notes carry through to a warm and rustic dry finish. There's a nice complexity here and not an overwhelming sense of oak or alcohol in the way of the fruit of the vines.

Good as a starter, you can pair this Pinot Noir with a wide variety of dishes. We can vouch for roast chicken, pork tenderloin medallions in a savory gravy, and pan grilled wild salmon. This sort of versatility makes it a candidate for the holiday table.

Price: $12 (Nashville). Closure: Nomacork. Alcohol content: 13%.

If you've read many wine labels, especially those of wines that cost more than $25, you've almost certainly seen on that contains the phrase "fermented with wild yeasts" or "native yeast fermentation." This indication that the winemaker has not used a so-called "commercial" yeast is often a telltale clue as to the overall philosophy of the winemaker. Making wine without commercial yeasts can be more difficult, more unpredictable, and more risky than some are willing to accept. Those who do eschew commercial yeasts often do so because they are committed to making what they believe is a more natural wine, both for its lack of "intervention" by the winemaker, as well as because the yeasts that do end up driving the fermentation are believed to be from the vineyard and part of its ecology.

Without a doubt, making wine without commercial yeasts represents a more traditional method of making wine, but apparently the more we learn about yeasts and winemaking the less it seems that there actually is any such thing as a wild yeast fermentation.

A recent thread on the Mark Squires bulletin board addressed this very topic, and I highly encourage anyone who is interested in the subject to check it out. The discussion ranges across a number of different issues regarding yeasts, often getting quite technical, but the gist of it can be boiled down to a simple set of arguments.

First, it is clear that there are yeasts on the skins of the grapes out in the vineyards, and that when no commercial yeasts are added (and sometimes even when they are) some these yeasts can also be found working away in fermenting grapes in the winery.

However, it is also true that most of the time the yeasts that do the most work in fermenting the grapes in the winery are very different yeasts than are found in the vineyard. Which begs the question where, exactly, did they come from?

The answer, according to a lot of winemakers and researchers, is from within the winery itself. No matter how well a winery is sanitized, it tends to harbor all sorts of biological elements, including complex "cultures" of yeast that breed, mutate, and even evolve in the little ecosystem that is the winery.

If the winery ever has used commercial yeasts, this local culture will most certainly include some of these commercial yeasts. And if it hasn't it will likely include yeasts that were brought into the facility on humans, pets, equipment, insects, and more.

All of which is a long-winded way of saying that the decision to not use commercial yeasts to ferment the wine doesn't really mean that what you're getting instead is some natural cocktail of yeasts that are specific to a vineyard. A native fermentation it may be, but the yeasts that are chowing down on the grapes are much more likely to be native to the winery building than they are the vineyard, and in many cases they may include commercial yeasts as well.

I'm certainly guilty of romanticizing native yeast fermentations as a writer. Along with the decision not to fine or filter the wine, this decision generally says something to me about the quality of the wine. The fact that winemaking yeasts aren't entirely wild doesn't necessarily undermine that meaning, but it certainly does call into question just how much justification there might be for prejudice against commercial yeasts as somehow "unnatural." Biodynamic winemaking, for instance, clearly proscribes use of commercial yeasts as yet another unnatural intervention in winemaking.

The process by which grapes ferment involves sometimes 80 or more different kinds of yeasts, the actions of which are affected by pH, temperature, sugar levels, and thousands of compounds in the grapes, not to mention anything we humans might do. We're still trying to figure out just exactly how it all comes together.

As intrigued and excited as I am about the degree to which science is gradually deepening its understanding of what wine is and how it comes to be, I also love the fact that it's so complex that we've still got a long way to go.

Mystery is a good thing. It means we need to keep drinking.

Read the yeast discussion on the Mark Squires board.

Thanks to Jack at Fork & Bottle for pointing me to the discussion.

I happened to finish two things about the same time last week. The first Wine Bloggers Conference and a book, The Billionaire’s Vinegar. This was perhaps a coincidence as I did not find time to read a word at the conference. Drinking trumped reading in Santa Rosa that weekend, but I finished the book a few days later. It’s hard to think of a greater contrast between the event I attended and the events and people in the book.

The Wine Bloggers Conference was defined by an almost innocent enthusiasm and love for wine, while The Billionaire’s Vinegar represents The Dark Side of wine. You cannot be help but be stuck by the ugly greed, arrogance and ignorance of the wealthy posers chasing “great wine” in this book. It’s one of those plots were there is no protagonist, they’re all bad guys. I highly recommend this book as it’s a great story based around the excesses and greed of big time collectors who were sold faked old wines and were just too greedy and had such massive egos they couldn’t taste the obvious.

One thing this book proves is that we are all too human in our abilities and no one can escape the trap of letting labels affect our perceptions. I’ll be the first to admit if someone told me I was getting a glass of 1787 Lafite purchased by Thomas Jefferson my esthetic distance would be right out the window. The trouble with the arrogant bastards in this book is that they thought that their palates were so great they could rise above human frailty. I can only guess they got stupid after they made their money, not before. The tacky glitz, excess and greed surrounding the elaborate tasting events described in the book cannot be overstated. What is perhaps most disconcerting is the attendance at these events of those that consider themselves wine “journalists” Certainly, attending such extravagant events gratis would not be acceptable under even the loosest code of journalistic ethics. It was clear to these writers that they would not be invited back if they offered even a hint of criticism in their reports. Rave reviews were the price of  next year’s admission and they were always invited back. It’s hard to be critical after enough foie gras and caviar.

The recent first ever Wine Bloggers Conference in America (there was one a few months before in Europe) painted a very different picture. The jaded arrogance that blinds so many established wine writers these days was replaced by the refreshing enthusiasm of the wine bloggers that descended on the Flamenco Hotel in Santa Rosa. Surrounded by the beauty and wonderful wines of Sonoma over 150 new media wine writers gathered to explore their emerging genre. The energy brought to my mind Gracie Slick and the Jefferson Airplane welcoming the dawn at Woodstock, “It’s a new dawn…” said Gracie before the band roared into that hippie political anthem, Volunteers.

Every blogger that attended was there on their own dime as no one is make a living from wine blogging yet. Everyone was there because of their passion for wine. They are truly volunteers and the generous spirit of this group stuck out starkly to the outrageously expensive, competitive and ego driven wine world documented in The Billionaire’s Vinegar.

While there are many wonderful examples of wine bloggers making a difference I can’t help to pick out Deb Harkness, better known as Dr. Debs, who has created a blog called Good Wines Under $20.  For what I hope are obvious reasons I won’t describe what Deb’s blog is about. Deb’s day job is as a college professor, but by night she’s a consumer activist seeking out great wines at great prices for her readers. Yet what is even more impressive about her is her deep commitment to a personal standard of ethics. While most mainstream wine writers are mostly concerned about what others will think of them when it comes to ethics, Dr. Debs, and many bloggers like her are concerned what they think of themselves. Their ethics are in their hearts. Their not in it for the money or glamour tastings, but out of a sincere love of food and wine. At the end of the day only self respect and personal pride can make ethics a reality. Deb and many bloggers like her are setting a new standard.

I’m well aware that I was one of the old guys at the Wine Bloggers Conference and most of my compatriots there were well under forty, but the energy and spirit there reminded me of an earlier time, before when some of them were born, when we thought we could change the world. The conference gave me hope that maybe, just maybe, that the pointy world of wine writing today can be brought down. Power to the bloggers.

It’s a new dawn for wine writing. Good morning people.

?Red? You sure that?s what you mean?? said the salesclerk looking at me dubiously.

?Yes, I do?, I responded.

?Sim, Vinho Verde TINTO?, I repeated to each and every retailer in various wine shops while hunting for this infamous red counterpart of the popular Portuguese white wine, Vinho Verde.

What surprised me during my quest, for this apparently unpopular style of wine, is that almost a third of the wine produced in the region of Vinho Verde is red. So why is a Vinho Verde Tinto such a bizarre and foreign idea? After trying a few bottles in the past, and literally spitting them out and dumping the rest down the drain, it is not difficult to understand people’s apprehension!

But surprisingly, I?ve come to learn that many Vinho Verde Tintos tend to have the exact same flavor profile! And although they are produced with the same high acidity ?greenness? as the white wines, typically followed by a second malolactic fermentation to allow for a smoother and more full-bodied character, many producers seem to overlook this second essential step - choosing instead, to keep the high acidity which produces a very unbalanced wine. Taken from the D.O. Vinho Verde website:

However, the occurrence of the malolactic fermentation has its costs: a reduction of freshness and primary aromas proceeding from the grapes. For this reason, many oenologists prevent its occurrence in the white Vinhos Verdes, which must have freshness and young aroma. The malolactic fermentation mainly is encouraged [but not obligatory] in the red Vinhos Verdes, whose quality depends more on its flavour complexity than the aromas intensity.

Consequently, many Vinho Verde Tintos taste downright sour.

The wine is then released, almost exclusively, within the regional market, and unless you are one of the locals who have acquired a taste for it, consuming it out of the traditional clay bowl, most people end up tossing it.

But I refused to believe that all Verde Tintos tasted bad. Why would a winery produce this much Vinho Verde Tinto without producing some higher end labels?  I decided to give the style a second chance before writing this article and set out in hopes of finding at least one that I could speak highly of. In all 8 stores I checked out, only one carried a decent looking bottle that I bought for a relatively low price of ?2.35. The 2007 Solar de Serrade Verde Tinto from Quinta de Serrade, a reputable producer from what I was told, located in the sub-region of Monçao, in the northern part of the Minho. After bringing the bottle home, I chilled it down and sliced up some creamy local sheep?s milk cheese as a recommended pairing. I then poured a glass and hoped for the best.

The wine was an eye-opener, smooth and full-bodied, with bright red berries and currants on the nose which were mimicked on the palate. I still detected the signature ?greenness?, but this time, the acidity was more tame and pleasing on the palate, without overpowering the subtle light berry flavors; whereby, making the 2007 Solar de Serrade Verde Tinto the first balanced Verde Tinto I had ever tasted.

I think what helped make this particular Verde Tinto considerably better is that Monçao has a warmer and drier climate than the rest of Vinho Verde; whereby, allowing for drier, fuller-bodied wines. In addition Quinta de Serrade chose to ferment this wine to 11% alcohol, a higher percentage than most Verde Tintos, normally clocking in around 8-9%. The cheese also turned out to be a great pairing with the wine, complimenting the body, while perfectly contrasting the acidity.

Here’s to second chances,

Andrea Smith

All content protected by a Creative Commons License2005-2008. Catavino.net.

• Audio Tasting Note - Our First lunch in Lisbon
• Vinho Verde from Afros
• Portuguese Wine Grape Vocabulary
• IberWHINE
• Pena de Pato Wines from Sogrape Vinhos

Iggy’s at the Regent Hotel in Singapore is the recipient of quite a bit of hype, with various awards and reviews proclaiming it to be among the best restaurants in Singapore and the world. It seems very few people have anything but good words to say about it. Wednesday the 25th of June saw me visiting this restaurant for the first time.

My expectations were high, but I will be one joining in with the praise for this establishment after my experience. The food we tried was sensational with both classic and surprising combinations of flavours that worked brilliantly together. The service was overall very good and with one or two minor tweaks could have been excellent.

Four courses at lunch (an amuse bouche, two entrees, a main and dessert) was an entirely reasonable $70AUD (including GST and a mandatory 10% service charge) per person plus wine.

The wine;

The list is heavily tilted toward white and red Burgundy, the prices are quite decent for a high quality restaurant. I was impressed when I asked to keep the bottles, they offered to remove the labels if I wished instead, and I was presented with them laminated and in perfect condition at the end of the meal.

Serriger Schloss Saarsteiner Spatlese Riesling 1986 (Mosel-Saar-Ruwer, Germany) - 8% alcohol -
Golden coloured. Initially a bit closed, but as it warmed and shook off the confines of being in bottle for almost 22 years it blossomed beautifully with notes of honey, orange peel, lily petals and minerals. The palate showed fine, detailed acidity to balance the ripe fruit characters. Very good length and balance initially, with the mouth-feel and components coming together even further with time in the glass. Drinking very well now, but will hold for another 5 years.
91/100

Rossignol-Trapet Chambertin Grand Cru 2002 (Burgundy, France) - 13.5% alcohol -
This was decanted for around an hour and a half. Deep ruby red in colour, the nose is expressive and sensual with aromas of red cherry, rose petals, strawberry, light earth and black truffles. The palate shows great finesse and depth. The structure is excellent, with tannins playing their role in the background and acidity giving great freshness to the mouth-feel. There are layers of subtle flavour and complexity to this wine that kept me enthralled with every taste. Delicious and approachable now, but it will get even better over the next 12-15 years.
93/100

The food;

Sweet Corn “Cappuccino” with Chocolate

Sourdough roll with garlic and herb infused olive oil

Charcoal-grilled bonito with white anchovies, mizuna salad, olives and peppers, citrus dressing

Roulade of kurobuta pork belly with red cabbage salad, whole grain mustard dressing

Fresh Burrata mozzarella with vine-ripe tomatoes, basil and extra virgin olive oil

Home-made potato gnocchi with truffle salsa and soft-boiled egg

Classic onion soup served with crusty bread loaf

Braised kurobuta pork cheek with onion confit

Home-made Wagyu beef burger with white truffle sabayon

Confit of duck leg with rosemary potatoes, mesclun

Grand Marnier soufflé with home-made Java vanilla ice cream

Baked chocolate molten cake with Java vanilla ice-cream

By Campbell Mattinson
Publisher, The Wine Front

IN A DRAMATIC change of focus the Hardy Wine Company today announced that it was taking a great leap backwards - and changing its name. From the end of this month the Hardy Wine Company will be known as Constellation Wines Australia. This is an attempt to change the perception of the Hardys wine name from that of a corporate giant to, more simply, a regional winery 'known for quality and craftsmanship'

While this change is largely window-dressing, it is important. It marks a significant shift in thinking at Hardys. In recent years its super-premium portfolio has been sadly neglected, to the point where many premium wine drinkers (and wine media) today query whether the Jack Mann, Houghton Gladstones, Hardy's Tintara and Thomas Hardy super-premium labels still exist. The Hardy Wine Company has become known for good quality, cheap, non-region-specific fighting varietals. It has been at the forefront of the much maligned 'race to the bottom'.

And for a long time this strategy has been widely perceived as puzzling and myopic - like defecating in your own nest.

Hardy Wine Company President John Grant said today that ‘This is a pivotal time for our company as we embark on a range of activities to move our company to higher ground. From 31 March ... we aim to showcase to the world regional winemaking at its finest.

‘By drawing on Constellation’s global resources and tapping into our generational traditions, we aim to become Australia’s regional wine champion, recognised for our quality brands and winemaking excellence.’

‘Changing our company name provides greater freedom to shine the spotlight on the real heroes of our business - the outstanding regional wines. In particular, it allows the Hardys brand to return to being a winery, known for quality and
craftsmanship, rather than being known as a corporation.’

‘We will be adding to our diverse regional offering and continuing our exploration of Australia’s premium wine regions’, he said, ‘as well as strengthening our front line staff, with additional personnel, tools, resources and training’.

Constellation Wines Australia brands include:
Amberley, Banrock Station, Barossa Valley Estate, Bay of Fires, Berri Estates, Brookland Valley Estate,
Chateau Reynella, Goundrey, Hardys, Houghton, Leasingham, Moondah Brook, Omni, Redman, Renmano,
Stanley Wines, Starvedog Lane, Stonehaven, Tintara, Yarra Burn.

The latest edition of Decanter (March) came out this week, and several articles caught my eye.  The first was entitled Start Your Own Wine Cellar. As I’m often torn between buying bottles to drink and those I think I may like to keep for a special occasion, I was drawn to the profiles of the 3 different types of people for whom Decanter made recommendations. There was the couple who did not know much about wine, but wanted to learn and had £500 to get them going. At the other extreme was the couple who already drank a lot of good Bordeaux and had £5000 to spend. I found myself drawn to the example in the middle, someone who knows her grape varieties, but would not describe herself as a connoisseur. Decanter put together an interesting cellar at a cost of £1000 for her.

The one question I was left pondering with the suggestions was the distinction between wines for drinking 2008-2010+ and for 2010-2018. Why do a couple of decent Italian reds from 2004 fit in the first category, but a Portuguese 2005 and a Spanish 2003 fit in the second? I know it’s down to how it is made and matured, but how are you expected to know that for the slightly more unusual wines? Labels don’t always given enough information and certainly very few give how long to keep the wine for.

I always peruse the Wines of the Month to see what recommendations I can pick up. These wines are available from stockists in the UK so I feel sorry for foreign readers who may be unable to source them. However I’m always a bit frustrated to read other reviews elsewhere in the magazine and see the dreaded ?N/A? next to them. Although I figure what’s the point in reviewing them if they aren’t available in the UK I have to keep reminding myself how international Decanter is. In this month’s issue 4 of the 9 letters are from non UK readers. I am sure this helps the editorial team keep an international focus which is good for all us readers.

The panel tastings this month are both French, 2005 St Emilions and 2005 cru bourgeois. I was stunned to see a great value 2005 cru bourgeois at £7.35. I must seek it out.

Next month’s edition features Italy and is out, according to the ad in the magazine, on February 6. Oops ? I think they forgot to change the date from last month’s edition as I’m sure they mean March 6th!