The Halo's Crooked

Okay, first off let me apologize to my loyal readers (yes, I'm hoping it's plural) for the indefensible gap between blog postings. On Sept. 1, just a few days after my last post, I began a new job with a steep learning curve and some pretty significant demands on my time. And, while I'm not any less opinionated then before, my time has been occupied getting up to speed with my new employer, its distributors and its wines.

This is only the fourth time in my 25 years in the wine business that I've joined a new company, so I'm a little preoccupied.

Meantime, on a long drive from a trade tasting this week, I resumed thinking about the blog and a subject I've touched on briefly in the past. It's the halo effect, something that a lot of MBA's in the wine world use as an excuse to expand a winery's offering far beyond its original fame and reputation.

What got me to thinking about this is a new book from a veteran business journalist. Entitled Trade-Off: Why Some Things Catch On, and Others Don't, its primary theme is that products of any kind can appeal to our sense of quality or our sense of convenience but not to both. The author is Kevin Maney, former USA Today and Fortune magazine columnist. I'm a fan of his, too. He's also a musician and plays a Fender Stratocaster, as do I, and wrote and recorded a song entitled "Wouldn't Want to Be Bill Gates." Hell, yeah.

Quality implies snob appeal; convenience implies ease of purchase and low cost. Think Nieman-Marcus vs. Wal*Mart. Maney call this the "fidelity swap." He defines it as the ever-present tension between fidelity (the quality of a consumer’s experience) and convenience (the ease of getting and paying for a product).

Many companies not just in the wine business have a corporate strategy to grow a brand beyond its original market. "It looks tempting," Maney writes, "Some companies believe they can get there, and life will be beautiful. But as it turns out, any company or product that attempts to capture both is likely to fail."

In the wine world many of those companies are owned by conglomerates and staffed by MBA's with little or no experience in wine. They see brand equity in the same way some homeowners viewed their property's equity until recently--just something to spend. Well, as many homeowners have found the value of their homes decline, they've found equity to be elusive. So, is it far-fetched to believe that these conglomerates who have sucked the equity out of established wineries won't or aren't meeting the same fate?

Robert Mondavi (the brand not the man), Beaulieu Vineyards (BV), Beringer, Sterling, Penfolds, Ravenswood, and even the storied 1st Growth Bordeaux Chateau Mouton Rothschild (Mouton Cadet, et al) have spent their equity with cheap, convenient imitations of their fidelity brands. We in the business like to think that these massive line extensions answer consumer demand, that the consumer knows full well the difference between Robert Mondavi Napa Valley wines and Robert Mondavi Private Selection, between Beringer Private Reserve Chardonnay and Beringer Founder's Estate Chardonnay, between Penfolds Bin 389 Cabernet-Shiraz and Penfolds Koonunga Hill Shiraz-Cabernet.

They don't.

A very earnest gentleman came up to me at the aforementioned trade tasting and after tasting an Argentinean Malbec at my table proceeded to tell me that the upswing in Malbec's popularity was due to the fact that Malbec is a dry wine with no sugar, thereby making it a safe beverage for diabetics. I'm not a doctor, nor do I play one in this blog, but come on.

The point here is that this is the kind of misinformation common out there, folks. The average consumer likes to drink wine and doesn't care to research it much. We're kidding ourselves if we think most wine drinkers care to delineate the differences in these line-extended brands. So buy the cheap imitation. It's convenient, costs less, and is easy to understand. Convenience, yes; fidelity, no.

Malbec's Turn In the Spotlight

As stodgy and tradition-bound as the wine world sometimes seems, it is subject to the whims of changing tastes, as much as popular music, movies, and fashion. Unlike those, however, wine is agricultural based. It's the luxury liner in a harbor full of speed boats--can't be turned easily.

As a beer industry executive said recently, "The trouble with wine is you can only make it once a year."

Worse yet, grapes come from vines planted in the ground, often expensive ground, and the silly things want to produce the same type of grapes every year. So when tastes change rapidly, the wine world lags behind and then usually overreacts.

Merlot shot up in popularity in the 1990's, ostensibly as the softer version of Cabernet Sauvignon. This was part of a sea-change resulting from a 60 Minutes broadcast entitled "The French Paradox," which examined how the French were able to eat a diet much richer than ours yet have less heart disease. The difference Morley Safer intoned: "Red wine."

Overnight, the U.S. went from consuming about 60% white wine to 40% red wine to the reverse of that. Consumption of red wine increased 44% in one year. Red table wine blends were suddenly in short supply. Merlots were allocated and in very short supply. Prices shot up. Supply and demand.

Supply caught up with Demand (and beat its skinny little ass into the ground) as growers and wineries reacted by planting significant new acreage of Merlot, often in places not suitable for it, and by grafting over vines of then less popular varietals. As a result, within a decade, we had a lake of watery, one-dimensional, dull Merlot from the world over; its nadir cemented in the 2004 film Sideways when Paul Giamatti's character Miles Raymond screams, "No, if anyone orders Merlot, I'm leaving."

The movie also spurred an intense interest in Pinot Noir, Miles' passion. And, off we went again. Even inexpensive Pinot was suddenly in short supply. More plantings, more Pinot, please.

Now, it's Argentina's turn in our spotlight with, ta-da, Malbec. Easy to pronounce Malbec (Mall-bec), though, is not Merlot. Merlot's popularity had to do with smoothness and softness. Malbec has a spicy, earthy richness to it with enough character and complexity to be appealing in its bang-for-the-buck ratio.

Originally one of the five varieties used in Bordeaux (not so much now), Malbec is the primary grape of Cahors in southwestern France. It has been widely planted in California, Washington, Oregon, and several other states, used mostly as a blending grape. But, in the last decade plantings in California have increased sevenfold. Here, we go again.

Although there are pricier and cheaper versions available from Argentina, the sweet spot seems to be around $10. The big wine companies, as usual, are doing the Me-too dance, and Malbecs are suddenly everywhere.

History, as it is want to do, repeats itself. Substitute the word Australia for Argentina, Shiraz for Malbec and this could be a decade ago or so. Australia, with few exceptions, was not able to establish its premier grape beyond the $10 bottle, nor delineate its regional differences in the minds and tastes of U.S. consumers. It fell out of fashion.

I fear the same fate for Argentina and Malbec. But in the meantime, here are some pretty girls in the latest styles, the hit of this year's party:

Altos Las Hormigas Malbec, Mendoza, 2007, $9.99

Although clocking in at 14.5% alcohol (usually a warning to me to stay away), this wine has terrific balance. Everything seems in place. Spicy notes with blackberryish, plummy fruit and a white pepper note. Easy to like.

Imported in Washington by Elliott Bay Distributors, in Oregon by Domaine Selections.

Trapiche Oak Cask Malbec, Mendoza, 2007, $9.99

There's a velvety texture to this one with blackberries and plums predominate in the fruit. Not as overtly fruity as the Altos, but seems more complex with black pepper, smoke, and a touch of vanilla. Long finish. Both are amazing values.

Imported by Frederick Wildman & Sons.

Prices quoted are average retail. Prices may vary.

The 3 R's of Summer Wine Drinking

June in Seattle is not a summer month. Junuary is what we call it. It's wet and cool and indistinguishable from January here. Usually. But not this year. We had a record-tying 29 days without rain, and July has continued a mostly dry, hot summer. Summer usually begins here on July 5th, so most years, this is when I begin to lighten up on the food and drink more white wines than red.

But with this run of hot weather, I've been in my "clean, crisp, and refreshing" mode of drinking for some time. And, I've discovered a basic rule that has kept me happy and smiling in hot temps:

Riesling, Rose, Repeat--the three R's. Repeat after me--Riesling, Rose, Repeat.

Now, I'm not talking about insipid sweet, mass-produced rieslings, the kind that Washington wineries used to churn out for cash flow. No, I'm talking about clean, crisp, dry riesling. And, I'm not talking about anything labeled "White Zinfandel" or "White Merlot" or "White Tuiti-Fruity." These wines are clearly not white; they're pink and ashamed of it. No, I'm talking about dry rose wines here, proud and manly enough to call themselves rose.

Here are a few of my finds. All are widely distributed in western Washington and Oregon. Distributors for both states and national importers are listed below.

Triennes Rose, 2008, Provence, France. This wine comes from an estate in the south of France owned since the 1980's by two of Burgundy's titans--Jacques Seysses, founder of Domaine Dujac, and Aubert de Villaine, co-owner of Domaine Romanee Conti. This wine is a blend of Cinsault, Syrah, and Merlot, and possesses more body than most roses but with a sense of freshness and lightness still intact. Flavors of strawberries, cherry, and watermelon with just enough crisp acidity on the finish to ask for seconds. Under $15. Imported by The Sorting Table, Napa, CA. Distributed in WA by Cavatappi Distribuzione, Ltd., Seattle; in OR by Galaxy Wine Company, Portland.

Paul Jaboulet "Parallele 45" Cotes du Rhone Rose, 2008, France. 50% Grenache, 40% Cinsault, and 10% Syrah, this beauty shows a ripe fullness of fruit on the palate, with crisp, citrusy notes underneath. Freshness here as well and hints of strawberries, too, but the bracing acidity and richness make for a wonderful companion to grilled vegetables and burgers or just al fresco relaxation. Around $10. Imported by Frederick Wildman & Sons, New York. Distributed in WA & OR by The Odom Corporation.

Chateau Ste. Michelle Eroica Riesling,2007, Washington. Ste. Michelle has a dramatic lineup of Rieslings, most of which are great summer wines, but this is the crown jewel. Made in a joint partnership with Germany's Dr. Loosen, this wine delivers citrus flavors of orange and lime with a crisp acidity that along with the added complexity of mineral notes combine to elevate this to the level of elegance. Under $24. Distributed in WA & OR by Young's Columbia Distributing.

Penfolds Thomas Hyland Riesling, Adelaide, 2008, Australia. (Full disclosure: I previously worked for the company that owns Penfolds.) This wine joined the enormous Penfolds line up just a couple of years ago, but is fast becoming the critic's darling. Produced from fruit grown in the cool-climate Adelaide Hills, the Hyland Riesling is crisp and clean with a lemon and lime citrus streak and mineral notes that expand on the lengthy finish. Under $13. Imported by Foster's Wine Estates, Napa, CA. Distributed in WA & OR by Young's Columbia Distributing.

Notice that the roses are both 2008. The fresher, the better--so always look for the most recent vintage and drink up, don't age. Rieslings, on the other hand, can age magnificently and gain body and complexity. One of the most memorable wines in my life was a 20-year-old German riesling, an Auslese (late harvest), on the dry side, served blind at the German Wine Academy. Not one of the Brits and Americans there, me included, could identify the wine. It was fabulously rich, oily, complex, big-bodied, and exquisite. I can still taste it.

Good Times, Bad Times

We Americans hold certain truths to be self-evident, that among these is this: When times are tough, we drink more. A new Gallup poll released this week shows otherwise.

The poll found that 64% of Americans regularly consume alcoholic beverages, a figure that has remained fairly steady for the last decade. Moreover, the number who consume eight or more drinks per week is at 14%, also unchanged in the last 10 years.

Also, the poll found virtually no change in our drinking habits in the past year when the recession deepened.

So, the self-evident truth here is that in good times and bad, we continue drinking--not more, not less. Besides, while it may be easy to tell the really bad times, the good times are most often only viewable through the rose-colored rear view mirror. I, for one, don't drink to forget the bad times or celebrate the good times (well, okay, yes, I do and with Champagne to boot--both for good and bad times).

I drink wine because I like the incredible array of flavors, the way it enhances the food I'm eating, the conviviality, the frivolity, the fun, and the relaxation. And, occasionally, with a great wine, the WOW factor. And, more often, with just a good wine, the YUM factor.

I can't remember ever opening a bottle of wine because the economic times were unsettled (they always are), the international situation was in crisis (it always is), or because life was uncertain, unfair, or unfathomable (yes, it is). For me, and many of you I hope, drinking wine is divorced from current events. It's the wine, not the economy.

Respect Yourself

We Americans have an inferiority complex, especially when it comes to adopting something from an older culture. I had a classics history professor in college who, when I expressed a preference for American history, harrumphed, "America doesn't have history; America has 200 years of current events."

So, as we have taken on the Old World's preference for wine, which dates back to antiquity, we who are used to blazing our own trails, reinventing ourselves along the way, and blithely ignoring tradition, ritual, rules, and common sense, find ourselves unsure and intimidated when it comes to wine.

We crave affirmation. Ratings from wine publications, recommendations from waiters, sommeliers, and store clerks, a respected friend's latest find, and untold numbers of wine blogs (mine included), tweets, and other web-based info--all demonstrate that we are bewildered by wine. Is it just too many choices? Are we afraid to trust ourselves? Or, is it fear that we'll make a mistake?

Well, for your sake, make a mistake. Buy something you've never tried. Trust whatever you know about wine, and then buy something, try something about which you know nada, zip, zilch. What's the worst that could happen?

At best, you find a new wine style you love; at worst, you waste a few bucks. Then, write a review, if only in your head. "A plucky, little number with way too much pretension: I give it an 85." Or, "Yuck, this wine sucks." These are actual reviews from acquaintances, as legitimate as any in The Wine Spectator, as informative as I needed to try the first and avoid the second. (Well, actually, I tried the second, too, just to taste a really sucky wine.)

Respect yourself. Who listens to you better than you? Whose opinion matters more than yours? Whose pleasure is it anyway? Ratings assigned by wine critics are just random numbers. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.

Respect yourself, your opinion, your taste, your thoughts--the only ones that matter.

How to Remain Anonymous (you could write a wine blog)

Mourvedre. Mataro. Monastrell. Balzac. And, about 50 other aliases worldwide refer to just one grape, a thick-skinned red variety that is late budding out and late ripening--a late bloomer, if you will. And, as with other late bloomers, it may be poised to capture the fancy of those who've been around the block with the more precocious.

Then, again, maybe not. Imagine finding out your new girlfriend or boyfriend went by another name in another town. And, worse no one you know can pronounce his/her name. Whoa. That silky Merlot is a lot easier to explain to your friends than More-what, M'Tar-oh (the rapper?) or Monster-oil. A rose by any other name. . . Call her what you want.

But everyone knew her as Nancy.

Now Malbec, that's a different story. The skyrocketing popularity of Malbec, especially from Argentina, is not something I would have predicted a decade ago. In 1999, Americans consumed about 11 bottles of Australian wine for every one bottle of Argentinian. That figure has dropped to about 3 bottles of Australian for every one from Argentina. And, most of that is $10 Malbec.

But, success breeds excess and now many of the large companies have decided they need to jump on that bandwagon, so we're already seeing loads of Argentinian Malbec virtual wines (wines without a winery) hitting the store shelves near you. Many of them are bland, pale imitations of the spicy, peppery, blackberryish Malbecs that spawned the trend.

So now what? Good Malbec is still obtainable at a surprisingly reasonable price. You've got to dig a little and trust your local wine merchant. But, the quest for good value in wine is about the journey not the destination. Next stop. . . the 3-M Company: Mourvedre, Mataro, or Monastrell.

This grape grows well in warmer climates, such as Spain, where it is believed to have originated. But it is probably best known as one of the primary grapes blended to make Chateauneuf du Pape in France's Southern Rhone Valley, where at some estates, such as Chateau de Beaucastel, it can comprise 70% of the blend. Australia has significant old-vine acreage of Mourvedre where it is often blended as in Chateauneuf with Grenache and Syrah. d'Arenberg is one of the few there that produces a 100% Mourvedre, "The 28 Road." California and Washington produce some notable ones, too, including Jade Mountain, Cline Ancient Vine Mourvedre, and McCrea Cellars Mourvedre.

But for the same kind of value that launched Malbec, here's a suggestion: I bought a beauty the other night at one of my favorite Seattle shops, McCarthy & Schiering. For less than $10, the Castano Monastrell (pictured above) from Spain's Yecla region, was an absolute stunner. This wine delivered tones of body with rich, juicy blackberry-like fruit with freshness and enough acidity to match some pretty rich meats. The winery's been discovered, though. Jay Miller writing in Robert Parker's The Wine Advocate rated this 90 points and called the price "unreal." So, don't wait to search for this one. But write the name down before you leave home. Or just say you're looking for Monster Oil.

Castano Monastrell is imported to the U.S. by Eric Solomon's European Cellars.

I Touched Brian Wilson's Coat and Met Robert Mondavi

When I was 11, a friend and I attended an in-store appearance by the Beach Boys. This was 1963, Kennedy was president, and the Beatles were still unknown in the U.S. The Beach Boys were hot. They spoke to the crowd, mostly giggling girls, from a flatbed truck set up in front of the store. My friend and I couldn't see a thing, so we ducked inside in hopes of getting a closer look when they exited through the store.

At the end of the event, thinking the place was empty, store employees locked the doors and only allowed the Beach Boys in. As they passed, I jumped up and started following them through the store. I had almost caught up with Brian Wilson, the group's leader, who was trailing the rest of the band. I don't know why, but the only thing I could think to do was to reach out and touch the hem of his coat. Biblical, huh?

Brian turned around and said. "Hey kid, how're you doin'?" To which I replied, "Ah. . .Ah. . .Ah. . ." He said, "Thanks for coming today," turned around and was gone. I hadn't said a word.

Other than explaining some of the beginnings of my lifelong love of rock 'n' roll, what does this have to do with wine? Well, it popped back in mind the other day as I was recounting to a friend some of the legendary wine people I've met in the business over the years.

Back in the 1980's, one memorable day I had Jean-Michel Cazes, owner of Chateau Lynch Bages, and Anthony Barton, owner of Chateau Leoville Barton and Chateau Langoa Barton, riding in my beat-up Ford Mustang. Anthony graciously offered to and did put his 6'4" frame in the back seat, which amused Jean-Michel to no end.

I have met Angelo Gaja, Count Lur Saluces of Chateau d'Yquem, the late Erwein Graf Count Matuschka-Greiffenclau of Schloss Vollrads, and Christian Pol Roger of Champagne Pol Roger (who gently reminded me as I let one of the corks from his wine loudly pop, "Young man, when Champagne is opened, it should moan not scream.").

And, there were more. None evoked the Brian Wilson reaction in me, except one.

Robert Mondavi.

At this, the one year anniversary of his passing, I've read several tributes to the man, and it brought to mind meeting him in 2001. I was lucky enough to be invited to an event at the winery and had just entered the grounds with my new boss who knew Robert well. As we started to enter the gift shop, I opened the door and there was Robert Mondavi the man.

"Ah. . .Ah. . . Ah. . ." Fortunately, my boss handled the introductions and Robert, as he always did with everyone, immediately put me at ease. "Wine is part of the gracious way of living." he used to say. He, indeed, was a gracious man.

By the time of his death, he and his family were no longer involved in making the wines that still bear his name. Julia Flynn Siler's excellent book The House of Mondavi, The Rise & Fall of an American Wine Dynasty captures the details. Highly recommended. You'll come away with an appreciation of a man whose dream made the U.S. a country of wine drinkers.