Brad Ballinger

Yes, Mike, the math is correct. And 150% of the purchase price in this instance would be $30. But I believe Cheri's intention in defining markup was 100% to 150% more than the purchase price, which would put the range at $40-$50.

My very limited experience with Philadelphia restaurants (haven't dined in any other Pennsylvania city) was one of sticker shock at the prices at Striped Bass, Brasserie Perrier, and Rogue. This was several years ago, though. But during that visit, I also enjoyed fine meals at wonderful BYO places. While 3-4 times markups are not wholly uncommon, you will see variation in markups among both high end and not so high end restaurants. I've seen high end restaurants with incredibly attractive pricing and hash houses with absurdly high pricing. I wouldn't pay $44 for a bottle of Basa Rueda Blanco. It should come as no surprise that restaurant wine pricing gets a fair amount of play in this and other internet wine discussion forums. One fairly involved thread from this forum can be found here.

Well made points. And while I'm not proclaiming we all become reverse snobs and drink wine from coffee mugs while thumbing our noses at those with the Riedel Sommelier series, there is something to be said for making wine more accessible attitude-wise. And you are absolutely spot on in the need to intiate newbies into some of the traditions. It is there that we understand a larger picture.

Piling on. . . Chablis, definitely. But be sure to ask for one that sees little or no oak. Some producers have love affairs with oak, and you won't like their wines. As younger wines, many will show a steely, or even oyster shell-like, character. With maturity the minerality exuded is more earthy. Loire, definitely. In addition to Sancerre, look for wines from Menetou-Salon, also made from sauvignon blanc. The whites of Quincy and Saumur can be bone dry and loaded with minerals. And don't foget Muscadet. Alsace, definitely. Both Riesling and Pinot Gris. If you're adventurous, Gewurztraminer. Germany. You will especially find the wines of the Mosel-Saar-Ruwer region give off a slate-like minerality. But you may find wines from the 2003 vintage showing much more fruit than mineral. The kabinetten wines may be a good bet for you here. And if you look at wine from the Pfalz, you may find some trocken wines that are to your liking. Italy. You will find some mineral-driven whites like Roero Arneis and Falanghina. Again, though, beware the 2003 vintage which, for the most part, will have a lot of ripeness.

Well, you are certainly thinking this through -- which is great. And you are right in that there are many different "types" of minerality that appear in wine, red and white. You may, for example, like the flinty or chalky or wet gravel mineral profile more than a diesel or loamy one. Regarding some German Rieslings that show sulphur (not all do, of course), these need some time or air to blow off. The wines of J.J. Prum are notorious for showing a sulphuric aroma when young. You can find much better German wines than Graff for very little more money. Your boss's comments about spatlesen being more "apricot-y" is a rash generalization. You can find differing fruit profiles among various levels of ripeness. Riesling is one of the best grape varieties for demonstrating terroir -- the soil and microclimate conditions where it grows. So its not uncommon to find variation in the wines from producer to producer, vineyard to vineyard. The Sonnenuhr vineyard that produced the grapes for the Graff you had is a huge vineyard that encompasses the villages of Wehlen and Zelting. Growing conditions will be different in different areas of the vineyard. The character I sometimes find in Rieslings from the Pfalz region is that in ripe vintages some can give off a bell pepper aroma, and that's a big turnoff for me -- although others don't mind it and some even like it. Like I said, there are wines to appeal to all tastes.

Your friend should be sure not to miss the late harvest wines. Spiers is a decent producer, but there will be plenty to choose from.

I'd also add that many German Rieslings have a pronounced mineral character that manifests itself in a number of different ways -- sulphur, diesel, petrol, hot tar, to name a few. None of these are necessarily flaws, and it could be that those wines are not your cup of tea. The fruit profile in many of them, by the way, can lead toward green apple. Some sauvignon blanc wines can have an element of cat piss or litter box aroma -- definitely funky or stanky, but not a flaw. And too much oak is offensive, but usually just smells like oak to me. It could be that you prefer a more forward fruit profile in white wines. Nothing whatsoever wrong with that. There are quality wines that appeal to all tastes.

Is wine appreciation qua wine appreciation pretentious? No. Does it lend itself to pretentiousness? Of course. The issue many of us are trying to "fight" is this whole mysticism about wine. The types of acts that border on the ostentatious appeal to a fringe population and attempt to impress the rest. Some of the attempts to impress, however, do nothing more than distance the accessibility of wine appreciation that much further.

For me, the lawnmower beer is one that is easily quaffable, doesn't require contemplation. I've had to mow in three states I've lived in. I usually drank the following after cutting the grass. Cutting the grass in St. Paul, Minnesota: Grain Belt Premium Cutting the grass in Oxford, Ohio: Goebel Cutting the grass in Normal, Illinois: Old Style (technically, a Wisconsin brew but it used to be THE beer to get at Wrigley) Now, for the beer after the lawnmower beer. . . St. Paul, Minnesota: Summit Pale Ale Oxford, Ohio: Gennesse Cream Ale Normal, Illinois: Little Kings Cream Ale

Saturday night I attended a gathering of Science Fiction Fandom folk, and I think I was the only non-SFF person there. But the hosts are people I know more for their passion for food and wine. There were several wines open, some more interesting than others. I’ll comment on three. 2002 Von Volxem Saar Riesling, QbA. When I was told I could bring wine if I wanted, but that this wouldn’t be a wine crowd, I reached for this bottle. This has been a crowd-pleaser on previous occasions, and was summarily emptied quickly on this night as well. Fragrant, inviting nose of light mineral, limes, and a floral presence. Bright acidity with a citrusy crispness provide the initial focus, but there is a richer fruit profile to include apples and pear skin. There is also a consistent underlying minerality. I know that when it comes to QbA Riesling, Donnhoff seems to hold a dear place for many wine lovers, self included, but I’ll put this QbA up against it any day. 2003 Cellier des Dauphins Cotes-du-Rhone Villages. 11 grower cooperatives come together to produce and distribute wine under the Cellier des Dauphins label. This particular bottle has a squat shape, much like that of Mas de Gourgonnier. Looks cool; difficult to rack. 65% grenache, 25% syrah, 10% cinsault. Nice aroma of red fruits, some cocoa, some herbs, some floral. Ripe and acidic character that is very mouth-filling. Moderate tannin. Bright, pleasing finish. Overall, this is a bright and fragrant wine that would accompany roasted fowl quite well. It may not overpower on its own, but it’s definitely made for the dinner table. 1992 Bernard Faurie Hermitage. One person asked, “What does that smell like?” The host responded with a smile, “An old wine.” And he was right – on both the comment and the smile. This has a lovely aroma that accompanies wines with this much bottle age. Attractive funk, grilled mushrooms, dried beef, olives. Color is surprisingly dark. The wine is not tired at all in the mouth. Tannins are resolving, and the fruit and acid are still in play. It has a bit of a rustic character, in a charming way, yet has a layered development. Remains bright on the finish. On Sunday, Marcia and I visited friends for dinner and an overnight stay. The wine cellar there is filled with wines bought on auction and at retail using Parker Points as a major determining factor. I also know that bringing over a well-regarded bottle of wine usually goes over better than bringing over something they’ve never heard of. I was asked if I wanted a glass of Viognier. “Pride?” I asked. “Yes.” “Then I’ll pass.” If these weren’t such good friends, I wouldn’t have been able to get away with that, but it was taken in good fun. 1990 Caymus Cabernet Sauvignon, Special Selection, Napa Valley. Pre-tasting commentary: This is a wine I purchased ages ago that I probably wouldn’t consider purchasing today. I also bought it before Spectator heralded it as WOTY (the first of four times I’ve been that clairvoyant). I picked it up in the cellar, read the label, and thought, “Well, let’s see what 34 months in oak is like 15 years later.” It was my only bottle of this wine, and at one time my plans were probably to drink this by myself or just with Marcia, but what the hell. Our host was duly impressed. Poured through a decanting funnel to separate sediment. I then covered the mouth of the decanter to prevent too much air from getting at the wine. I don’t know if that does any good or not, but I did it anyway. Bricking at the rim and a good one inch in. Aroma of currants, tobacco, coffee, dark chocolate. Perhaps a bit more “tired” than “mature” in the mouth, but not at all unappealing. The fruit has faded slightly and there are some secondary elements of coffee, cinnamon, and roses valiantly trying to fill in, but I’m not sure there were ever enough of them there to do the job. The tannins aren’t all gone and there’s still some good structure, but they seem a little on the wooden side. Turns a bit astringent on the finish. Drinking well enough, but definitely showing age. 1994 Ridge Monte Bello, Santa Cruz Mountains. 73% cabernet sauvignon, 15% merlot, 9% petit verdot, 3% cabernet franc. Our host asked what bottle he should open to go with dinner (we were grilling ribeye). I suggested a California Cabernet or a Super Tuscan. He pulled out a Tomassi Amarone and asked if that was a Super Tuscan. I suggested we stick to California. “Oh, here,” he said, “I’ll just hand you the list of what I have.” I glanced it over and suggested he open a 94 Monte Bello. He hesitated a bit, and I jumped on him. “Look,” I said, “I brought over the effing Caymus. You have an entire case of the 94 Monte Bello. What is so terribly wrong about checking in on it and seeing how it is doing?” His wife later asked, “How did you get him to open a Monte Bello? I never get to drink it.” Decanted a little over an hour. Still quite a deep ruby red, especially when side by side with the Caymus. Fruit-driven on the nose with spicy and smoky accents, cigar box, and some menthol. I think it may be just starting to come out of its shell, and another 2-3 hours in the decanter would’ve served it well. Shows tremendous size and complexity in the mouth – there’s blackcurrant, mint, chocolate, spicy oak. Full-throttle tannins that will probably show up on a toothbrush hours later. Powerful finish. This wine will benefit from a handful more years of development.

Awww, and here I thought I was going to be the first one to mention peanut butter. My aversion also goes to peanut butter cookies, Reese's products, Butterfinger bars, etc. Other things I'm also the second to list here include mustard, pickles, and mayonnaise.

How were they stored before they got to your cellar? Even in perfect cellaring conditions with the bottle stored on its side, corks can still break or crumble upon being extracted. If I'm dealing with an "older" bottle (a term I would not use to describe your DD by the way), I will use an ah-so.

Nowadays, I'm not sure what methods would be deemed unusual and which not, but there are many practices that can be instituted in the vineyard and in the winery toward the end of a highly concentrated, highly extracted, highly viscous wine. And not just in California.

If you are looking for nothing more than a geographical distinction, you've got your answer. If, however, you are interested in some of the stylistic differences, those are discussed a bit in this thread. The title of the thread is East Coast v. West Coast and discusses palate differences among consumers, but it broadens out into what would be considered an Old World v. New World discussion.

There are a handful of different wine folks who get together – some more regularly than others – to taste through wine. Some groups have a theme; others don’t. Last night, the theme was syrah from France or California (no Oz shiraz). The players mainly hang out on eBob. We met at the very BYO-friendly jP American Bistro. A couple of whites to get things started: 2001 Rochioli Sauvignon Blanc, Russian River Valley. Heavy dose of white grapefruit peel and litter box minerality on the nose. Some herbs and cut grass add complexity to the aroma. Crisp, cleansing, and acidic in the mouth. Zesty citrus fruit with a hint of mineral. Moderate length to the finish. Very easy to drink. 1995 Villa Bel-Air Graves Blanc. A bit oxidative/resiny on the nose. There is also licorice and root beer. Big hollow spot on the mid-palate, and I think most of the fruit has passed to the great beyond. Turns bitter and acidic then finishes quite short. “There’s no there there” would not be an unfair comment. Onto the theme: 2001 Mas des Aveylans Syrah, Vin de Pays du Gard. This is a Bobby Kacher wine, and word at the table was that Arpy gave it 92 points. Nose of candied fruit, violets, and evergreen nettles after the alcohol fumes dissipate. There’s a tip-of-the-tongue, top-of-the-palate concentration of bright, sweet red fruits. When I poured a very small amount to rinse my glass, I swallowed the half-sip and it burned my throat. With larger swallows, there’s still a bit of an alcoholic burn. 2001 Ojai Vineyard Syrah, Santa Barbara County. This wine is shut down and locked up tight. There are faint wisps of blueberry, coffee, leather, and dried meat on the nose. After a juicy attack, the tannins clamp down quickly. 90 minutes later, much was unchanged. There is balance and subtlety here, but the wine needs to be left alone for a few more years. 2000 Wattle Creek Shiraz, Alexander Valley. Yeah, one of those California wines made from syrah but labeled as shiraz. And the Wattle Creek sounds more Australian than Californian. One whiff and sip and TIMBER. This is some oaky juice, low in acidity, a bit syrupy, and devoid of any finish whatsoever. 2000 Montevina Terra d’Oro Syrah, Amador County. And I thought the Wattle Creek was oaky. For those who like their oak on the dilly side, this is a wine for you. It was very hard for me to get past the nose, but pushing on… the wine has a bright, jammy fruit profile and some tannic structure. But, like the Wattle Creek, has hardly any finish. But it had the tallest and prettiest bottle of all the wines. 2000 Cave de Tain l’Hermitage “Nobles Rives” Hermitage Rouge. Cave de Tain l’Hermitage is a large co-operative of over 500 growers. This is another wine that is a bit closed at present. Nose of roasting meats, black earth, freshly-polished shoes. Blackberry fruit, complemented with secondary flavors of herbs and earth. Some vanilla creeps in, and the wine turns a little wooden on the finish. 2002 Culler Syrah, Napa Valley. Damn near black and opaque. I thought it was going to stain my wine glass. Waaaay syrupy and sweet. Had we been at the restaurant for breakfast, I would be tempted to pour this on my pancakes. High extraction, low acid (well, almost no acid), sssssofffft tannin. I haven’t had a syrah this goopy since I had a glass of Pax two years ago. Wine is supposed to cleanse the palate. After a couple ounces of this, my palate needed cleansing. 1999 Garretson “The Finne” Syrah, Alban Vineyard, Edna Valley. Attractive nose of berries and bacon once the milkshake factor dies down. The wine is ready now, and I don’t see it improving. Some molasses and licorice that give depth to a blueberry and blackberry fruit tart flavor profile. 30-45 minutes later, the nose turned incredibly vegetal along the lines of roasted squash and creamed corn. Pull the cork and drink up. 1996 Marcel Juge “Cuvee C” Cornas. Brickish not only at the rim, but throughout. Served a bit warm, so it’s a bit hard to evaluate. White pepper dominates the nose initially, and there’s some earthiness and crispy bacon in the background. Tannins are losing their grip, but the acidity is still bright. The wine has a rusticity that is appealing, and the fruit seems somehow appropriately in the background to the minerals and spice. 1994 Chapoutier Cote-Rotie. Not the La Mordoree. More “spice” than “pepper” on the nose. Structurally, this wine is holding together well. The knitting is loose, but not unraveling. The blackberry, and black cherry flavors fade in and out in a do-si-do with some rustic earth and leather. Doesn’t have the length of finish I’d like, but a pleasing wine nonetheless. 2002 Carlisle Syrah, Sonoma County. Another oak and dill wine, but this oak has some charcoal to it. There’s some shoe polish, too. Like many big California syrah wines, this has a blueberry milkshake thing going on. The tannins are also big and ripe. 15.9% alcohol, and it makes its presence felt on the finish. 2003 Red Car “All Night Radio” Syrah, California. What is that smell? Swirl swirl swirl. That’s so distinct, what is it? I know I know it. Swirl swirl swirl. I got it – powdered chicken bouillon (I kid you not). And so begins the “I have no idea what to make of this wine” apologia. After the chicken bouillon passes, there are aromas of blackberries, pine nettles, burnt cream, sap, and soap. Low acidity. Lots of ripe tannin that keep the wine from being overly goopy. I still don’t know what I drank, although I think it was wine. Dessert: 2002 Pierre Bise Quarts de Chaume. Nose of beeswax, orange zest, and wet gravel. Based on the nose alone, one could recommend not drinking this wine for 10-15 years. Then you take a sip, and it is so effing delicious you are tempted to ask, “why wait?” Intense acidity that “burned” the sugar right onto my teeth. It took 3-4 swipes of the tongue to get it all off. Honey and blood oranges dominate the flavor profile. Finish goes on for minutes. The wine will develop layers and complexity with cellaring, but offers plenty of reasons to enjoy it young.

Where I live, there is only one retailer that carries Gravner wines. They start at $100. I was lucky to have a pour once at a tasting. I liked it plenty, but it is rare that I'll fork over $100 for any wine. I know they sell for less in other markets, though. In a broader picture alluded to in the article, there are plenty of talented winemakers of Slovenian heritage (some of which still live there) that make great wine either from grapes grown in slovenia or Italy. Trieste used to be part of Slovenia, but went to Italy after one of the wars because it was such an important port, and there was little desire among other world powers to yield that port to an Eastern Bloc country (Yugoslavia) at the time. The article references Movia, and those wines have received critical acclaim. Grapes from Italy, wine produced in Slovenia.

No web site.

In Minneapolis, Surdyk's ships and has one of the better Burgundy selection. Haskell's is another large retailer. Large selection of Burgundy, but over half of it is Faiveley, and that doesn't do much for me. Surdyk's turns over their inventory more frequently, so storage is less of an issue with them.

Moet & Chandon is Dutch?? ← Sorry, I'm wrong. I was thinking Jouet, and got carried away. And with Jouet I'm only going on the word of someone I trust, so maybe that's not wholly true. Retracting, retracting, retracting. . . Moet is FRENCH. Has NEVER been Dutch. Named after Claude Moet. But the "t" is still pronounced.

Good to know. I've not heard it pronounced in Austria, so I'm limited to what my ears pick up here. I'll go with a native speaker over an industry source any day of the week.

I'll comment on some of the wine questions, even if they are from three months ago. Gruner Veltliner - yes, the umlaut over the u, and felt-lean-er, but I've heard the accent on either FELT or LEAN. Moet Chandon - yes, it's Dutch and the "t" is pronounced. Same with Perrier Jouet. Reims - as indicated above, Rahns. But if you are making a car rental reservation by telephone with an English-speaking agency, say Reems. I learned this when I went to pick up my car in Reims, handed my reservation to the car rental agent only to learn they didn't have a car for me. But one was waiting for me in Rennes. Vacqueyras - Vah-keh-RAHS with the "s" being pronounced (same with Gigondas - zhee-goan-DAHS). Pouilly Fuisse - hard to type phonetically, but Poo-(y)eee Fwee-say. Chambolle-Musigny - Shahm-BOHL Moo-see-NYEE And no one asked but: Cos d'Estournel is Kahs Day-tour-NEL Riedel is REE-del There are plenty of online audio guides for pronunciation of French, German, and Italian wines through a simple Google search.

Now.

I thought the line mentioned Chianti and not Amarone.

Amarone is a wine that goes well with richly-flavored foods and dishes. It's great paired with gorgonzola cheese. It also pairs well with game, whether grilled or prepared in a hearty stew.

I like your point about Christmas Tree farms. Also add sod farms, bedding plant farms, perennial vegetable farms (e.g., artichoke farms -- they're not called "orchards"). Also, for those who are into CSA -- it's Community Supported (or Sponsored) Agriculture, not Community Supported Gardening.