Rebel Rose

Cool. I didn't know that. And on the subject of cat pee, for those who haven't already visited it, we have the Terrible Terms, for otherwise fine wines . . . thread.

Rusty backhoe! I have to add that to my personal wine lexicon.

So, if people drink Enologix wines, does that make them Enologeex? (Sorry, couldn't resist!)

Thanks for the insights into Icelandic cuisine, Nanna!Related threads: Icelandic Cuisine Sheep most useful animal for food? I remember a few months ago--last fall?--reading a gorgeous piece on Iceland in Gourmet, I think. The beautiful hills, the wild ponies, the seafood . . . I haven't seen the show yet. Do they feature the butter, the lobster soup, the other delicacies Iceland is known for? If you could paraphrase the show for me briefly, would you say it falls in the "Beautiful yet Bizarre' camp, or "The Worst Of . . ."

Welcome to eGullet, cellartracker! I hope you'll be sharing some juicy wine reviews and insights with us.

Hmm, interesting points. Especially the questions. Real quick on the choice of Riesling--it was the beginning of our warm weather season and we wanted to pick a wine that our region and our wineries are not known for, that we feel is under-represented in west coast restaurants, and that would be either a nice summer wine (if we got organized enough to print results), or a nice Thanksgiving wine if we needed more time to "get organized." So it was not a "girlie" choice. In fact, it never occurred to me that it might be perceived as one. Verrrry interesting . . .

Precisely. Bring it on, folks. I won't have time to answer questions fully until tomorrow morning. And even then, our plans, or at least my working draft outline of our plans, are far from clarified. Maybe what we're doing is controversial. Maybe it will serve a purpose. Maybe it needs to be challenged. Maybe people think it's fluff. What do you think of this? San Francisco Chronicle Sarah, to answer your question briefly, we have no plans as yet to form chapters or tasting groups, although we will probably write and publish articles on how to establish one. For instance, this year I wrote and am hosting a course in wine appreciation in our very own eGullet Culinary Institute. Our immediate plans are to keep the group to a very small core of women wine professionals. Please keep the questions, comments, criticisms coming. But for now, someone has to work around here . . . I just wish it wasn't me.

Women Wine Critics Board The adventure continues . . . In June, I attended a women winemakers’ night at a local wine shop, to pour my own personal production of sangiovese that I produce (almost) every year. As the weather was beautiful and everyone was headed to the beach, the event was lightly attended. So later in the evening there were only five of us—the shop owner and four women winemakers. The topic drifted around to numerical scores and critics’ tastes, and one young woman said that although she felt there are quite a few excellent women wine writers, she didn’t feel there were enough women wine critics, and that women’s tastes are still poorly represented. I think at that point I said something stupid, like, well, why don’t you try it? You simply don’t issue challenges like that to women who are already successfully navigating their way in a male-dominated industry. And since successful women are also masters of the art of delegation, I discovered the next day in a summarizing email that I am a founding member of the Women Wine Critics Board. The loosely but enthusiastically conceived idea involved tasting and rating wines without numerical scores, with a professional and personal eye to balanced wines, writing reviews with a strong focus on food pairings, and publishing our collective reviews. This is where the members of the eGullet Society come in. It is my responsibility to further define how and where we go from here. Who better to assist and advise than people who are passionate about wine and food? Who better to tweak and critique? I am hoping that this thread will become a sort of blog on the birth, growth, development, and possible gasping demise of this idea. In July, we had our first meeting and tasted through a short range of German and U.S. Rieslings. Ironically, we found ourselves using the Davis 20-point spreadsheets for guidance, although most of us hated the spread. I gave one wine a much higher score than it could possibly have received following the spreadsheet. I explained to my boggle-eyed cohorts that I felt the balance in this wine was key and impressive, and I scratched out the meager possible ‘3’ for taste and acidity and gave it a ‘5.’ So there. (Mind you, there are several versions of this 20-point scale, some only adding up to 19 by the way, and I think we were using an older version.) So at this point we were, and on most of these points still are, confronted with the following questions: Who are the founding members? What is our goal? Who is our audience? How best to reach them? Should we include other women winemakers, critics, and writers? How will we decide which varietals or regions to taste? Can we taste and review wines from our own region without encountering peer resentment? How and where can we publish and release our reviews? What other information or insights can we provide? Why in the heck are we doing this? What do we expect to personally gain or contribute? Will anybody really care? And most importantly, can we still have fun, be feminine, and be taken seriously? More to follow, but in the meantime . . . thoughts, anyone?

So . . . what I infer from all this is that Jon Bonne and Elin McCoy are both addressing the phenomenon of public perception here--not Mr. Parker's personal tastes.

When I lived in Tulsa I had a British/Malaysian girlfriend. She wanted to make me bat soup like her family made it--a real delicacy, she claimed. But she said you need to get your bats freshly killed and hanging in the market stalls, as she could in Singapore. She bemoaned the fact that the one Oriental market in our area had only "freeze-dried, black market" bats. She also said the only things her mother and MIL agreed upon were fish lips and chicken feet. Her British husband, Duncan, related the first (and only) time he tried birds' nest soup, also in Singapore. The soup is apparently made from the conical nests of a particular kind of swallow. The nests are boiled until they disintegrate, the debris is strained out, and what is left is a sort of bird spit reduction. This is served warm, in a glass cup. Dunc said he tried to take only one small sip, but discovered to no small degree of unpleasant surprise that he was unable to sever the viscous goo into separate gulps, and had to suck the whole thing down at once. I wish I could attend the Festival and dinner. I'm sure the majority of offerings will be more familiar Chinese dishes, but if they offer some unusual stuff I think I would try everything except sea slugs and birds' nest soup.

Zatar Restaurant Cool site, cool restaurant. Brief reviews on each page, warm-toned pictures, not too much info on each page.

John, for those of us who have not read the book yet, can you quote a brief passage from the part that refers to wines Parker has no interest in, or that he finds are not generally interesting to the public. That way we can discuss the author's comments, as opposed to getting confused over our members' assessments of these wines.

Just launched . . . Wine Adventure Magazine, "the first wine magazine for women." I'm still waiting for my initial issue. The website looks nice, and I think the articles will be appealing. It will include book reviews, and it looks like the first issue reviews the Les Halles Cookbook by Anthony Bourdain. Hmm; somewhat unusual choice for a wine mag. Take a walk on the wild side. What's your prediction? Fab or flop?

The Emperor of Wine : The Rise of Robert M. Parker, Jr. and the Reign of American Taste by Elin McCoy, June 2005 Is this a well-written, balanced biography? Or yet another pretty coffee table enshrinement of an American idol? Is Parker still a humble farm boy whose success overran the world like hippie love and alfalfa sprouts? Or has his success created a cult wine empire and a marketing hierarchy? Please post reviews of the book here. Please post comments on the Parker Phenomenon in Robert Parker and the Wine Advocate: Is he the Prince of Points?

I feel a separate thread for reviews on the book would be appropriate. If the thread turns out to be as tiny as a Boisset, we can merge it into the Parker thread later.

Come on, Jim. You write some of the best reviews in our forum (well, some credit must go to Diane for the fabulous food pairings . . .) Tell us a little more than what you would shop for. Walk the windy alpine ridge of opinion with us. You frequent boutique wine shops. What do you overhear on this topic from salesmen and customers? When you're shopping in a grocery, are you ever tempted to direct a befuddled shopper in the wine section to a particular wine? What do you see as an overall trend?

I encounter this attitude sometimes in our winery tasting room . . . that an old vine zinfandel with a more brick red color is somehow inferior to purple, jammy modern (high alcohol) zinfandels. Or that a paler sangiovese or pinot noir cannot possibly be as flavorful as an almost artificially ruby-colored pinot. (Oh wait . . . California wineries can buy Ruby Red Concentrate from Madera Enterprises. Well there you have it. There's no excuse these days to produce a wine that is not Ruby colored.) Speaking entirely in terms of grape varietals, so that we can cross the boundaries of Europe, the US, Australia, and elsewhere--are there certain varieties with a gypsy-like flexibility in color and character? Or certain varieties that are a little more hidebound to their color? Cabernets and syrahs, for instance, I expect to be very dark. Barberas, for some reason, I expect to be dark. Maybe because I've tasted a few too many overtly acidic/low in flavor California barberas. Naturally a wine loses pigment with age, but if we're talking strictly about a varietal, bottled recently, should a wine always be "damson," and "ruby," and have "rich color"?

I think the ripening sequence is tannins->pigment->flavor->sugar (Brix). Tannins develop first because the skin and the seeds, in fact the entire being of the grape is the spawn of a woody vine. Pigments begin to develop slowly around now, early to mid-August. Followed by flavor components, although they are very hard to assess viscerally while the grape is still in the spit, spit, nasty unripe stage. Sugars develop last. Growers and winemakers love to 'wow' onlookers by tasting the grapes and guessing the Brix measurement within half a point. (At least, I was amazed. ) But if you think about it, there are only four degrees between 24 and 28, so with practice it becomes fairly easy to assess where the grapes are at. Splitting the grapes open is also important, as you want a thick, juicy skin; and a strong skin to juice ratio. (All of the important red pigments and much of the flavor and tannin components are contained in the skin, so in a red wine you want a healthy, juicy, chewy skin, balanced with some sweet, fruity acidity in the pulp.) Some vintages may produce pithy clusters you could scrub your sink with. Not good. I think I've mentioned elsewhere that another measure of tannin ripeness is looking at and tasting the pips. They should be light brown, crunchy, and have a light nutty or popcorn flavor when the fruit is picked. If they are green and tight, and if you do a hard press, you will end up with green tannins in your wine. (Stemminess and skin quality are also a factor.) Even if a grape is perfectly ripened, perfectly harvested, it can still end up being like . . . a trophy wife. Perfect, yet somehow lacking.

A pint might be a bit much, but I like the ziptop creamer idea. I was thinking of putting ML starter in a small vial. But that would look like . . . well, it's usually yellow . . . no, not a good marketing idea. Unless it's sauvignon blanc?

And hopefully never will. Tangential discussions have got me thinking--how do you produce a truly crisp, non-oaked white wine, yet sell it to a public that equates oak/furniture flavor with elegance? I'm thinking we could tie tiny mesh bags of itsy bitsy wood chips or wood dust to the neck of the bottle. With a classy ribbon. Add your own! Five minutes for light oak, ten to fifteen for medium-heavy. Wine club members would have the more advanced choice of ordering light, medium, or heavily toasted oak with their wines. Now, how to handle the issue of malolactic?

As a small producer I don't want to believe this, but your statement reminds me that last year I attended a blind tasting of 21 California syrahs, all from small to mid-size producers. I only found two wines in the whole lineup that had that blueberry, bacon, licorice thing that I expect and crave from syrah. The rest of them could have passed for interesting to so-so cabernets. I was saddened and frankly, amazed. Are producers themselves afraid to produce those intense flavors, and is it strictly because of marketing? Sometimes I get the impression that our new generation of producers have been effectively brainwashed into thinking that if doesn't taste like black cherry and cassis, and nothing else, it's not a well-crafted red wine.

Assuming that more wine is being made than ever before, and assuming that more people are drinking wine than ever before, is there a real danger that ever-increasing production of "homogenized" wines will win over a greater share of the wine drinking public? Will these wines slowly squeeze out artisanal producers, who may find it increasingly difficult to explain, let alone sell, their wines? Or do you think consumers will continue to cut their teeth on the Kendall-Jacksons and Gallos of the wine world, and then continue to learn and seek out wines with more personality?

From a former thread (that was supposed to be about cat piss in Pinot Grigio, but got a little off topic): So, what do you think now? Are wines becoming better, or just more standardized? Or both? Are we losing true vintage and varietal character? Or there still interesting wines out there, but perhaps from new and unrecognized players?

I thought I'd bump up the Parker thread now that the film Mondovino has been released on DVD. But please, let's keep reviews of the film in the Mondovino thread, and observations on the Wine Advocate here. My review.

I had to triple think about posting my review of Mondovino, because I disagree with many of my fellow eGullet Society members, fellow hosts and managers, many of the posters on eRobertParker.com, Pierre Rovani, and probably Robert Parker. I thought the movie was charming and funny. I laughed out loud. I finally got the newly released DVD via Netflix, which includes some hilarious material from Episode VI, and a director’s commentary. It’s also fun to use the freeze-rewind function, particularly when you’re not sure if you just saw what you saw . . . I think that those of us watching this film in the comfort of our homes will have an entirely different reaction than those who saw it in theaters. There’s a certain expectation of theater releases that this film will not fulfill, and certain nuances that are lost if you blink an eye, as well. A documentary is not necessarily journalism. There are documentaries that are journalistic in style, but the mere fact that one is interviewing real people on real issues does not make it journalism. This is a personal documentary. It’s a story. It is Nossiter’s vision. In his director’s commentary, he makes no bones (pardon the doggy pun) that he wanted to portray small, struggling producers who are pitted against the globalization, or the global homogenization, of wine. This is not a movie for people who wish to place wine producers or writers on a pedestal. For they have most assuredly fallen off and stumbled into our midst. A Contessa’s husband is rude to her; an American tourist is chased out of a vineyard for eating grapes (memorialized forever on tape, poor guy); a wine industrialist’s son has his family goods pop out of his boxers; a cosmetic surgeon nervously massages a breast implant while being interviewed; an elderly French repairman looks like he’s having a heart attack; and on top of all this, the Burgundians insult the Bordelais; who in turn insult Robert Parker; and Parker returns the lob; and consultants insult their own clients. At one point I thought the next scene would be vignerons endulging in a messy, rotten fruit fight. But I loved it all. They’re people expressing their passions. There have been criticisms that Nossiter charmed his subjects into exposing their frustrations. That they trusted him and he betrayed them. But you know what? They knew a camera was rolling. The people who gave this vision voice and flesh did so willingly. They knew their comments were being recorded for posterity. There have been comments that Nossiter was misleading, that he smiled, and nodded, and seduced people into saying stupid things. (If that’s true, then I’m guilty of the same behavior every weekend in our winery tasting room.) If you’ve ever had a video or film camera thrust in your face, it can be very daunting. The few times it’s happened to me, I was grateful for a smiling, nodding videographer. There are complaints about the strange eye zooms, and the camera following dogs around. Nossiter states in his director’s commentary that he was filming with a small digital movie-cam that could not hold focus, hence the zooms into people’s eyes, and back out, to re-establish focus. He admits that he was also a cat person, but found himself charmed by the vignerons’ dogs. (The film won the Palm Dog Award for strongest dog presence in an award-winning film, but Nossiter’s new puppy has already chewed up the award collar.) So what if he has a political agenda? Think of it as Team America for wine drinkers. I don’t believe this movie will corrupt future generations of wine drinkers. The Future Generation in our house watched the movie with us. He loved the movie, and while opening a sangiovese, commented how alike these growers are to our neighbors. Politically they lean left, they lean right, and on weekend nights, they prop each other up while leaving the local pub. And what’s with this young woman in San Francisco who supposedly burst into tears after the movie and claimed she could never work in the wine industry after all, because Michel Rolland was portrayed as an evil cad? Good grief. Did she decide on investment banking or politics instead? Or will she turn her enological passions toward the pastoral science of viticulture, where she will only have to deal with the bucolic dangers of insects, disease, weather, economic fluctuation and broken contracts? Is the portrayal (and unfortunate closeup) of George the farting bulldog a character assassination of wine critic Robert Parker? Perhaps members with a bulldog in their avatar could give us a little more background, but I believe bulldogs fart a lot anyway. The filmmaker zooms in on several (well done, I thought) portraits of beloved dogs on the family walls, stuffed bulldogs, including an expensive looking leather one, and the dogs themselves lounging happily under the table near their owners. Patricia Parker informs us that George is elderly, ailing, epileptic, and pretty much heavily medicated. A man whose nose and palate are insured for $1 million dollars allows his bulldog to accompany him into the room when he is smelling and evaluating wine, unless of course, George is having a GI challenged day. Nossiter gives us an earthy view of growers and producers. We see their arms waving and their tempers bursting. I particularly appreciated the closing credits scene—two dogs sniffing, checking each other out, at once amorous and retreating, even pawing the earth. The camera cuts to an outdoor café where three men are sitting at tables, but not together, and we see them only from the back. Dogs, men. Dogs, men. An apt metaphor for the kooky and curmudgeonly world of wine. In the end, however, it’s unfortunate and more than a little weird that Nossiter wrote a 4,500 word diatribe against his critics, including pretty much all the major industry publications, and making some really colorful statements about Parker’s associate Pierre-Antoine Rovani. So I guess it’s safe to say he sucks at marketing.