Mission Impossible: You have two hours to uncover the gems from among 1,550 wines featured by 180 wineries from 17 countries.
Are. You. Kidding. Me? Next year I really need to make arrangements for a more extensive media pass. In my younger years my festival strategy was to visit only those booths pouring bottles upwards of $100, but today I’m here without a set plan.
Lucky me! Tattinger is the first booth on my way in. I only want to try the Pinot Noir/Pinot Meunier Prestige Rose Brut, but am quickly advised that I need to "deserve" it, and that can only come after warming up my palate with the Brut, the Prelude Grand Cru Brut, and the soft, slightly sweet Nocturne (which means "nightlife" en Francais). Twist my arm. When I finally get to the Rose raspberries burst on my tongue, followed by a crisp, lingering finish. I'm off to a great start, but I know I can't stay with the biggies all afternoon. I mean it's not exactly a surprise that this is delish, is it? At $67 it’s more affordable than some of its French competitors, and worth a try for summer celebrations.
I’m off to Pisano next to try Uruguay's national grape, Tannat. I don't remember having tried Tannat before (it's also grown in France, and with their archaic labeling laws who knows what you're drinking) and after Peter Jackson, of Jack's Grill in Edmonton, mentioned it in our interview this morning, I'm curious to try it. The only thing I know about Pisano is from my Italian Renaissance Art and Architecture class in university, and I'm guessing he's not connected to the winery. Still, the Italian roots are obvious. I work my way through their wines and make it to the Arretxea Grand Reserve. Whoa. After tasting this inky purple, spicy, smoky, tannic blend of Tannat, Cab Sauv and Merlot I'm craving the Filet Mignon with Gorgonzola at Hy's. It’s so dark and clingy that I have to rinse my glass twice. Uruguay… Ur-a-gonna-love it, even at $41 a bottle.
The room is full of good wines, but as a writer I'm always searching for the back story. I can't pronounce it yet (as happens when you start at Tattinger, I suppose), but I find myself at Skillogalee from Australia's Clare Valley. Chatting with winemaker, Dave Palmer, I get the goods on the winery. A former management consultant, Dave got a call one night from aging friends saying that they were selling their winery. Lamenting to his wife that they'd no longer be able to get their favourite wines, her response was simply, "how much?" It's a family affair now with Dave's son now starting to make the wines and holding down the fort when Dave travels to festivals like this, and his wife, a chef, running the restaurant. I’m a little skeptical about people who switch careers to run a winery, fearing they’ve been overtaken by romantic notions of wine making, but his Riesling puts me right at ease. Apple blossoms jump right out, and it's refreshingly lemony, with none of that sickly residual sugar that turns me off of so many other Rieslings. At $25 it’s welcome to join my other favourite summer sippers (Dirty Laundry’s Gewurztraminer, and Bonnie Doon’s Malvasia Bianca) on my apartment balcony this summer.
It’s getting late, and I’m in search of a big finish. I run into my friend Laura, and following her tip about a Shiraz that made her “cry” I make my way to Saxenburg to chat with wine importer, Vicky Ainley. I grew up with many South African friends, and have always been captivated by the country’s extraordinary history, people, landscape, flowers, and animals. I began exploring their wines as soon as they came back on the world market; I was intrigued by how being beyond the influence of many common trends kept their wines unique, and being in my early twenties at the time, I was thankful that they were so under priced.
I start off with their ’03 Private Collection Shiraz, which is spicy, a bit woodsy and worth its $32. It has the requisite black fruit, but it’s not overpowering. Next it’s the $35 ’03 Private Collection Cab, which packs a punch with blackcurrant and cherry.
It’s not listed in the festival program, but Vicky pours me a taste of the ’02 Select Shiraz, and I see just how far South African wines have come. Mon dieu, this is a helluva wine! They rope off the particular vines that produce this wine just to be sure that the grapes aren’t picked by mistake, and the fruit isn’t always good enough for them to produce it every year. Intense and beyond full, with blackberries, plum and white pepper, she tells me that when wine reps limit her to showing them only two bottles this is the red she brings in. I can’t imagine anyone says no to her after tasting this; I want to drink it all afternoon, and into the evening. It’s obvious I’ve found the wine Laura cried over, especially when I see the price. Selling at $125 this wine isn’t in everyone’s budget, and I was lucky to taste it. It's definitely world class, but IMHO there’s better value to be found in the $32 Private Collection Shiraz.
Festival organizers flick the lights off and on as they try to wrap things up, and I wonder if it would be rude to ask Vicky for seconds. I decide that I could probably get away with it, but that it might be a little awkward. I hope that she will offer me a bit more - I mean, can’t she see that my glass is empty??? She doesn’t, and I leave graciously but reluctantly, happy to end on a wine I can’t afford, and having discovered a value version that I can.
Are. You. Kidding. Me? Next year I really need to make arrangements for a more extensive media pass. In my younger years my festival strategy was to visit only those booths pouring bottles upwards of $100, but today I’m here without a set plan.
Lucky me! Tattinger is the first booth on my way in. I only want to try the Pinot Noir/Pinot Meunier Prestige Rose Brut, but am quickly advised that I need to "deserve" it, and that can only come after warming up my palate with the Brut, the Prelude Grand Cru Brut, and the soft, slightly sweet Nocturne (which means "nightlife" en Francais). Twist my arm. When I finally get to the Rose raspberries burst on my tongue, followed by a crisp, lingering finish. I'm off to a great start, but I know I can't stay with the biggies all afternoon. I mean it's not exactly a surprise that this is delish, is it? At $67 it’s more affordable than some of its French competitors, and worth a try for summer celebrations.
I’m off to Pisano next to try Uruguay's national grape, Tannat. I don't remember having tried Tannat before (it's also grown in France, and with their archaic labeling laws who knows what you're drinking) and after Peter Jackson, of Jack's Grill in Edmonton, mentioned it in our interview this morning, I'm curious to try it. The only thing I know about Pisano is from my Italian Renaissance Art and Architecture class in university, and I'm guessing he's not connected to the winery. Still, the Italian roots are obvious. I work my way through their wines and make it to the Arretxea Grand Reserve. Whoa. After tasting this inky purple, spicy, smoky, tannic blend of Tannat, Cab Sauv and Merlot I'm craving the Filet Mignon with Gorgonzola at Hy's. It’s so dark and clingy that I have to rinse my glass twice. Uruguay… Ur-a-gonna-love it, even at $41 a bottle.
The room is full of good wines, but as a writer I'm always searching for the back story. I can't pronounce it yet (as happens when you start at Tattinger, I suppose), but I find myself at Skillogalee from Australia's Clare Valley. Chatting with winemaker, Dave Palmer, I get the goods on the winery. A former management consultant, Dave got a call one night from aging friends saying that they were selling their winery. Lamenting to his wife that they'd no longer be able to get their favourite wines, her response was simply, "how much?" It's a family affair now with Dave's son now starting to make the wines and holding down the fort when Dave travels to festivals like this, and his wife, a chef, running the restaurant. I’m a little skeptical about people who switch careers to run a winery, fearing they’ve been overtaken by romantic notions of wine making, but his Riesling puts me right at ease. Apple blossoms jump right out, and it's refreshingly lemony, with none of that sickly residual sugar that turns me off of so many other Rieslings. At $25 it’s welcome to join my other favourite summer sippers (Dirty Laundry’s Gewurztraminer, and Bonnie Doon’s Malvasia Bianca) on my apartment balcony this summer.
It’s getting late, and I’m in search of a big finish. I run into my friend Laura, and following her tip about a Shiraz that made her “cry” I make my way to Saxenburg to chat with wine importer, Vicky Ainley. I grew up with many South African friends, and have always been captivated by the country’s extraordinary history, people, landscape, flowers, and animals. I began exploring their wines as soon as they came back on the world market; I was intrigued by how being beyond the influence of many common trends kept their wines unique, and being in my early twenties at the time, I was thankful that they were so under priced.
I start off with their ’03 Private Collection Shiraz, which is spicy, a bit woodsy and worth its $32. It has the requisite black fruit, but it’s not overpowering. Next it’s the $35 ’03 Private Collection Cab, which packs a punch with blackcurrant and cherry.
It’s not listed in the festival program, but Vicky pours me a taste of the ’02 Select Shiraz, and I see just how far South African wines have come. Mon dieu, this is a helluva wine! They rope off the particular vines that produce this wine just to be sure that the grapes aren’t picked by mistake, and the fruit isn’t always good enough for them to produce it every year. Intense and beyond full, with blackberries, plum and white pepper, she tells me that when wine reps limit her to showing them only two bottles this is the red she brings in. I can’t imagine anyone says no to her after tasting this; I want to drink it all afternoon, and into the evening. It’s obvious I’ve found the wine Laura cried over, especially when I see the price. Selling at $125 this wine isn’t in everyone’s budget, and I was lucky to taste it. It's definitely world class, but IMHO there’s better value to be found in the $32 Private Collection Shiraz.
Festival organizers flick the lights off and on as they try to wrap things up, and I wonder if it would be rude to ask Vicky for seconds. I decide that I could probably get away with it, but that it might be a little awkward. I hope that she will offer me a bit more - I mean, can’t she see that my glass is empty??? She doesn’t, and I leave graciously but reluctantly, happy to end on a wine I can’t afford, and having discovered a value version that I can.
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