I've made a couple of stabs at bottling. Stabs, we all know, produce blood and sadness.
This is one of my first, and wasn't a terrible attempt. The grapes grew at my house. I would take the credit for them, but the previous tenants seem to have planted them. I participated in the watering of them. My then-girlfriend and I fought off rats and sparrows, overcame drought and apathy, and more allowed than caused the grapes to grow. The vine grew up over the gate in our fence, a six-foot affair built in two levels as are so many around the neighborhood. This design, while being difficult to maintain, is the perfect place for local fauna to take up residence. For us, this included a large nest of rats and a couple of possums. I'll spare you the unfriendly details, except to say that we allowed the grapes to reach maturity in spite of their probable tastiness and Nature's love of tasty things.
Mustang grapes are a local varietal that grows more or less wild around here, but that is well-suited to the dry heat we get, as well as resistant to the mold which reproduces rampantly and grotesquely, performing unspeakable acts in full view of women and children. This makes the real trick to winemaking in this area killing the native growth.
We squeezed the grapes not 100 yards from the vine where they grew. I wish I could tell you that we stomped them while wearing festive and amusing costume in the style of the Italian peasantry, but we squeezed them cruelly by hand, holding them over a sieve and trying to keep out the stems and seeds.
As soon as the vines bore tiny, green pips, we began drinking apple juice. We picked a brand which came in thick glass jars with a gallon capacity, and drank the juice mechanically. From the very juicy grapes, we produced just over three half gallons of raw liquid, and began to ferment them with Champagne yeast. Over the course of weeks, the wine burbled and grew, and slowly became other than its initial stuff.
It became several bottles of wine. I made labels declaring the wine "Not Genuine With This Signature!" and we made up labels.
This bottle was the last one, pulled from the end of the tanks and having either loads of character or none at all.
And it has corked badly. Something truly unpleasant has happened to this poor grape juice, and I can't even bring myself to drink it. I have a second bottle which I will attempt at a later date.
While cleaning out some boxes in the garage, we found some bottles of "Flying Lemonade," a soft beverage bottled by my wife and me. Although I am a brave man, this is a raw beverage, bottled with the intent that it be consumed quickly. It was made with local lemons (which we cannot claim to have produced) and pure sugar. We brewed it with water from a spring from which flows the purest, tastiest water in North America.
I didn't even pull the cork on that one.
What does all this mean? I hope you will take from it that I really do appreciate the work which vintners put into winemaking. We labored for scant weeks. I've stabbed a couple of times at producing bottled beverages, and although not unsuccessful, the output has been paltry and the product amateurish. To make a uniform product over such a huge run must be difficult indeed.
I hope I'm not writing this to poke fun at any sort of wine maker. My goal, I really hope, is penance. I have done wrong to so many of these wines, and I hope to excise the skeletons by savoring the results.
'Bye!
Showing posts with label 1999. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1999. Show all posts
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Wine 11
As a great sage once told me over breakfast, one must keep moving or drown, so here I present the fruits of my latest dive into the shadowy depths of my wine cellar.
There are Rieslings which age well and there are Rieslings which turn suddenly and violently into bottles of pure, yellow evil. This one, through the vintners' skill or luck, was the former.
As pleasant as it was when fresh, the 1999 Dr L was a really wonderful surprise nine years later. I'm pretty sure I bought this one at a local supermarket chain, and I'm equally sure I paid fewer than ten dollars for it. I believe it was purchased in a crowd, with several bottles of the same vintage and probably something less respectable. For the moment, pretend it was not Blue Nun, so that I may retain whatever vestiges of credit I pretend to.
Like so many of the wines pulled bodily from my cellar, this one has become sour. It has, however, retained the flavors of oak and still, miraculously, grape. One seldom hears of a wine that tastes like grape, but this one is distinct and tasty. The Alcohol has not become overpowering, and the wine has taken on a viscous mouth feel characteristic of well-aged Riesling. I found the finish to be very crisp and pleasant, and the overall experience to be positive.
A winner! Or, from another point of view, one which fails to be unpleasant (and is therefore a loser)!
Next week: Horror!
There are Rieslings which age well and there are Rieslings which turn suddenly and violently into bottles of pure, yellow evil. This one, through the vintners' skill or luck, was the former.
As pleasant as it was when fresh, the 1999 Dr L was a really wonderful surprise nine years later. I'm pretty sure I bought this one at a local supermarket chain, and I'm equally sure I paid fewer than ten dollars for it. I believe it was purchased in a crowd, with several bottles of the same vintage and probably something less respectable. For the moment, pretend it was not Blue Nun, so that I may retain whatever vestiges of credit I pretend to.
Like so many of the wines pulled bodily from my cellar, this one has become sour. It has, however, retained the flavors of oak and still, miraculously, grape. One seldom hears of a wine that tastes like grape, but this one is distinct and tasty. The Alcohol has not become overpowering, and the wine has taken on a viscous mouth feel characteristic of well-aged Riesling. I found the finish to be very crisp and pleasant, and the overall experience to be positive.
A winner! Or, from another point of view, one which fails to be unpleasant (and is therefore a loser)!
Next week: Horror!
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Wine 7
To me, this feels a little much like stacking the deck. This is a "Bordeaux Style Wine," from a producer in Carmel Valley. It's a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc and Petite Verdot. This seems a wine built for aging well, and it holds up wonderfully, even under the pressure of nine years of amateurish storage. I had high hopes for this wine, a mutt bred of several varietals and in a region of varied soils. Mutts, as we all know, possess the truest character, and a hearty Table Red can be the finest mutt of all.
I detected strong cherry immediately, and a leathery oak flavor. We disagreed on the specific woodiness, as it became more like cedar or fresh-shaved ash. There is a fresh, crispness to the wood, summing to a really complex and fruity nose. Unlike some of the others in this experiment, this wine has maintained a huge amount of character.
The first thing we all noticed (there were the same three as last week) upon tasting is that this is a much drier wine that the others. The tannins have not disappeared from it, although they have no doubt mellowed. This is a very acidic wine with an unmistakable lime flavor and a Hickory smoke finish. The wine is thin in the mouth, but fills the nose completely.
This is a tasty wine and it has aged well.
I detected strong cherry immediately, and a leathery oak flavor. We disagreed on the specific woodiness, as it became more like cedar or fresh-shaved ash. There is a fresh, crispness to the wood, summing to a really complex and fruity nose. Unlike some of the others in this experiment, this wine has maintained a huge amount of character.
The first thing we all noticed (there were the same three as last week) upon tasting is that this is a much drier wine that the others. The tannins have not disappeared from it, although they have no doubt mellowed. This is a very acidic wine with an unmistakable lime flavor and a Hickory smoke finish. The wine is thin in the mouth, but fills the nose completely.
This is a tasty wine and it has aged well.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Wine 4
Today, I mourn the passing of a perfectly acceptable wine. I have fond memories of this wine being crisp and refreshing as I sat on my back porch, the Texas sun beating a July tattoo upon my much younger head. I'm sad that this wine escaped my notice for eight of the last nine years.
I became aware of the vintners when they were featured at my local grocery store. I suppose I should mention that I live in a relatively urban area, filled with people who like to feel smart about their food. People identify themselves by that horrible epithet around here. You should be aware so that when I say Grocery store, you understand that I mean one which has to compete not with Seven Eleven but with Whole Foods. I'm just sayin'.
The Eroica was a collaboration between Chateau Ste Michelle and Dr Loosen, a combination of Washington's Columbia Valley and the know-how of a solid middle-grade grower in the Mosel region of Germany, both vintners capable of producing a tasty if ephemeral wine. Such is the nature of the Riesling. It is a volatile grape and one which should not be stored. The best Rieslings will never see a birthday.
I will, then, describe my memory of this wine before I pour a single drop from the bottle.
The wine is delicate, fruity and a little sparse, suggesting a very mild experience and a minimally ugly assault on the senses. The wine delivers notes of cherry and lavender, smelling of a fresh-mown lawn of wildflowers wafting a mile over a hill to a porch where one sits, drinking a simple glass of sweet, pure water.
The flavor is pure pansy and violet, quiet flowers with distinct if subtle flavors. As the wine fades from the palate, the hint of dryness is suddenly and completely lost in the beauty of the smooth, crisp finish.
Ten years does a lot of good for a memory. For a Riesling, maybe not so much.
The wine itself has yellowed badly and lost all viscosity. The liquid has a troubling, sullen look to it. I notice distinct particulate in the tiny bubbles which have formed on my Duz glass.
The wine smells of stagnancy and decay. The sugar has fallen to ruin. The flowers have become compost. The flavor is pure rotten apple. The finish has become a hideous parody of itself, barging darkly into the nostrils and taking the sinuses at gunpoint. The tannins and alcohol have come forward to the detriment of anything good or wholesome that may have been contained in the formerly subtle and complex substance.
This is not good wine. This is a horrible, grinding lapdance on the grave of good wine. This is a travesty in a bottle. This is a pity.
This is a wine with such beautiful promise but absolutely no shelf life. This is a wine which was inducted into the National Honor Society only to live out a career managing burgers at a used car wash. My sweet memories will hold me, though, until next week, when I will again delve into my cellar.
All the best.
I became aware of the vintners when they were featured at my local grocery store. I suppose I should mention that I live in a relatively urban area, filled with people who like to feel smart about their food. People identify themselves by that horrible epithet around here. You should be aware so that when I say Grocery store, you understand that I mean one which has to compete not with Seven Eleven but with Whole Foods. I'm just sayin'.
The Eroica was a collaboration between Chateau Ste Michelle and Dr Loosen, a combination of Washington's Columbia Valley and the know-how of a solid middle-grade grower in the Mosel region of Germany, both vintners capable of producing a tasty if ephemeral wine. Such is the nature of the Riesling. It is a volatile grape and one which should not be stored. The best Rieslings will never see a birthday.
I will, then, describe my memory of this wine before I pour a single drop from the bottle.
The wine is delicate, fruity and a little sparse, suggesting a very mild experience and a minimally ugly assault on the senses. The wine delivers notes of cherry and lavender, smelling of a fresh-mown lawn of wildflowers wafting a mile over a hill to a porch where one sits, drinking a simple glass of sweet, pure water.
The flavor is pure pansy and violet, quiet flowers with distinct if subtle flavors. As the wine fades from the palate, the hint of dryness is suddenly and completely lost in the beauty of the smooth, crisp finish.
Ten years does a lot of good for a memory. For a Riesling, maybe not so much.
The wine itself has yellowed badly and lost all viscosity. The liquid has a troubling, sullen look to it. I notice distinct particulate in the tiny bubbles which have formed on my Duz glass.
The wine smells of stagnancy and decay. The sugar has fallen to ruin. The flowers have become compost. The flavor is pure rotten apple. The finish has become a hideous parody of itself, barging darkly into the nostrils and taking the sinuses at gunpoint. The tannins and alcohol have come forward to the detriment of anything good or wholesome that may have been contained in the formerly subtle and complex substance.
This is not good wine. This is a horrible, grinding lapdance on the grave of good wine. This is a travesty in a bottle. This is a pity.
This is a wine with such beautiful promise but absolutely no shelf life. This is a wine which was inducted into the National Honor Society only to live out a career managing burgers at a used car wash. My sweet memories will hold me, though, until next week, when I will again delve into my cellar.
All the best.
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