on wine (3)

As the result of another NYT book review by a careless reader, I received Jonathan Nossiter's Liquid Memory (2009) as a birthday present. In a pre-Christmas issue of NYT "Book Review" there was a little add calling it "the best wine book I've read," which was taken from a back cover endorsement by Bill Buford, the writer of Heat (and a new Anthony Burdain); it must have been Nossiter's muckracking approach to the wine industry that made Buford so gushy. As I was reading the book (ending up with 27 postums for problematic passages, I was reminded of Nero Wolf, the fictional detective, who is not infrequently described as tearing up a book, page by page, as he refuses "to be gulled" by its author. I merely depose disappointing books in the recyclables.

Nossiter earlier claimed the attention of the wine world with his film Mondovino (1904) and his Introduction to this book he asks the reader to note that it is not a continuation of the film, which is disingenuous, for he is mostly revisiting the topics and, in particular, the people of the film. There's much less that's new about wine or terroir - the alleged topics of the book - than it is a somewhat jumbled essay in self-justification. We are told why the people whose wines he praised deserved that praise and why the people he interviewed but did not praise but criticised and/or did not include in the film merited their treatment. For example. he had several encounters with Jancis Robinson, the British wine expert that went from "bad to silly." She wrote numerous sympathetic e-mails but "once she found out she wasn't in the film she didn't disguise her anger." She wrote a "bit sour and petty" review at first but when the "wine world potentates" perceived the film as threatening, she attacked the film as "manipulative and false" in defense of Michel Rolland, an oenologist and one of Mondovino's betes noires (188-190).

Another instance is his chapter on a visit to Alain Senderens (111-119) who is clearly showing Nossiter that he's not worth th time set aside (he arrives late and leaves early and while discussing what great wines to serve during the interview, ends up leaving Nossiter with the sommelier and a lesser wine. He too remarks that Rolland is a friend of his. Nossiter's reaction: "What just happened? What is he so afraid of? [...] did his pal Rolland warn him of the interloper with his nefarious ways? Certainly a man of taste [but] he behaved in front of me, alas, strictly as a man of power (fear being the principal agent of power)." In this interview Nossiter inadvertently uses what French teachers call a faux ami by translating climat, in Burgundy a synonym for cru (as in Les Saint Georges, the classified growth in the territory of Nuits St. Georges) as climate.

Nossiter's pre-occupation with himself leads to anther odd statement when he discusses Victor de la Serna, a Spanish grower who is guilty of establishing a "brand" (a sin he also sttributes to Ms Robinson (and of course to Robert Parker).
"Not only is Serna one of Spain's most influential wine journalists, but since 1998 he has also been the owner of a winery [...] Indeed, two years after starting his 'artisanal' winery,he co-founded elmundovino (no relation to my film but yet another uncanny doubling)." Of course two years after 1998 is several years before the release of his film and one might wonder who did the cunning doubling.
I couldn't have any quarrel with him about his criticism of Robert Parker, for I don't believe anyone can taste as many wines, even with spitting and a plain cracker and come up with an objective evaluation of a specific wine; at most it's a comparative: this one isn't like the previous one(s). Yet I wouldn't blame Parker for the decision of winemakers to heed his tasting notes, for that's their decision and they have adjusted their wines for different markets not as influenced by Parker as the US one. And what about the growers who sicked their dog on P. and declared him persona non grata? After all, he had to employ Pierre Rovani for Burgundy. In the 50s, before Parker, I met Burgundy wine people who had been to the States and said "they like their wines sweet." But some were equally down on Belgian drinkers (and too polite to talk about my own countrymen).

Nossiter,like me, is also down on "winespeak" and gives several amusing examples from Parker and others (he lumps them together as "the masonic mafioso") among which: " a big, sweet, peppery, earthy, creosote ..." (not a wine for me) or "explosive, hedonistic, seductive, sexy fruit bomb ..." (not appealing to one of my age) or "a nose of smoked meats, various fruits and black tea. A puckery mouth, inflamed with spices ... In the mouth it leaves persistent notes of bacon strips" (really?) (146-7). And there are wine lists and wine lists: on p. 123 he praises a simple 2 page list as opposed to "heavy books, turning pages of complicated texts; while on p. 183 he lauds a "the most amazing thick black books on the wine planet:" perhaps because it has wines he likes at "risible [low] prices."

ENOUGH SAID.

Our own drinking, aside from the 1st growth burgundies and the like for the Nov. and Dec. holidays has been interesting. We had none of the great Italian wines and only Rosso de Montalcino from other than the suspect 2003 harvest, which I had avoided because of early reports about the quality of the grapes, so that I lucked out. (The growers apparently agreed not to combine their grapes with such others as Cabernet, or the cheaper montepulciana to improve -stretch- their production.)

Because of numerous visitors over the Thanksgiving weekend and the 10 day around Christmas and New Year, we bought a good deal of "everyday" wines, of around $10 per bottle (Spanish of less and French mostly a little more, though there was a sale on Jadot Beaujolas Villages and Vieille Ferme. Among these, apparently only of the "once time" acquisitions of the State Store system, were a Costieres de Nimes, a relatively new appelation, called Les Enfants Terribles, which came in handy and was amusing. It also was a most palatable wine, reminding us of lunches during our visits to Nimes and the Camargue; nice color, a solid robe and no tar. Another, a Premieres Cotes de Blaye was a 2005 Chateau Maison Neuve from Alexia Eymas. Only 2 bottles were left on the shelves, which was "too bad," for while we rarely drink Bordeaux and then only a classified growth, this was a very good buy, mostly because the 2005 was a great year, but also the producer had kept the wine relative light, diminishing the effect of the merlot that has come to dominate the wines from the lesser appelation. (Nossiter would have liked it as it was "simple" and not "Parkerized." We also found a few bottles of 2005 Chinon, one of our favorite Loire reds, at a price below its New York average. But here too, only 2 bottles were left. The same was the case with a simple white Bourgogne 2006 "vieilles vignes" from Albert Bichot, a reputable grower, that could easily have been a Cote de Beaune Villages. A joy to drink. Among the cheaper Spanish wine, was a Hoya de Cadenas, reserva Tempranillo 2004 from Vincente Gandia, that the State Store should carry regularly, but unfortunately does not. These bottles gave us great hope for the future, even if we may have to wait for another festival season when the State Store apparently has the scour the importers to meet the greater demand.

As someimes happens, but rarely with a Duboeuf wine (there's something to be said for a brand that, if not bringing the real stuff, makes certain that its close approximation can always be relied on), one of the last of a case of 2006 St. Amour - a small, but excellent separate beaujolais appelation - was more liquorice and tar than the light and fruity gamay it is supposed to be. I brought it up too late and it was too cold so that the tar (chaudron) absolutely dominated, but even after one hour+ in the glass the gamay was a pale reminder of our walks in its vineyards (or of the previous 10 bottles in that case).

To close this blog on a happier, even amusing note, we were at Wegmans and decided to have lunch at the Pub's bar. We ordered a Pinot Grigio and the one they had was called "Smoking Loon," so named because someone at the Napa winery was always running around fast. The wine is produced by "Three Loose Screws", founded in 2004 by three Sebastianis (of the Sonoma family), who all appear to have their head solidly attached. We decided that this was the best of the few American Grigios we have had, light and dry, it was refreshing and asking for more. Normally we drink Alto Adige Grigios and they are a bit more complex than this one, yet it was an unexpected and happy find.