My Two Cents on Brunellogate

I don’t love Brunello.

I’ve never been able to drink it often enough to form that kind of bond with it.

But I do respect Brunello – Brunello di Montalcino, to be more exacting. I respect its tradition, even if it is a relatively new one.

So I’m very glad to report, no matter how late, that the producers who make up the Consorzio del Vino Brunello di Montalcino have voted overwhelmingly in favor of maintaining the apellation rules requiring Brunello to be produced from 100% Sangiovese. That’s what Brunello is after all, the local name for the clone of Sangiovese unique to the hills surrounding the town of Montalcino.

Making only a passing reference to what my fellow wine writers have alternately called Brunellogate and Brunellopoli, I’ve remained all but totally quiet on the recent scandals in Montalcino up to now. I’ve left it to those fellows who do love Brunello – guys like Jeremy Parzen at Do Bianchi and Alessandro Bindocci, scribe of Montalcino Report and member of the wine family at Tenuta Il Poggione – to give much more connected and impassioned day-to-day coverage than I possibly could have.

The scandal basically boils down to the disclosure that a number of producers have knowingly been adulterating their Brunelli with grapes other than Sangiovese, a practice strictly forbidden by the DOCG discipline for Brunello di Montalcino. This is hardly a revelation, as there’s a long history of adulterating wine in some of the most famous viticultural regions of Europe. Whether tankerloads of Southern Italian juice were added under cover of night to fermentation vats in Tuscany and Northern Italy or whether Rhône and Languedoc wines were used to darken and enrich the more exalted wines of Burgundy and Bordeaux, winemakers have been playing loose with tradition for centuries, even longer.


Estates such as as Il Poggione (pictured at left) and Castello Banfi found themselves on very different sides of the debate.
In this case, though, the issue was less surreptitious. Brunellogate received global attention on a scope that few wine scandals had drawn before. In answer to the scrutiny drawn by the scandal, some major wine figures – among them Barbaresco ultra-star Angelo Gaja, winemaker and consultant Ezio Rivello, and American Cristina Mariani, owner of Montalcino-based Banfi Vintners – came forward to argue that the rules governing the production of Brunello should be changed to allow for the inclusion of so-called international varieties such as Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon and Syrah.

In Rivello’s own words, “You don’t win 100 points from the Wine Spectator using just sangiovese.” And you know what? He’s right. But the point of creating the discipline for Brunello di Montalcino was not to create a vehicle for winemakers to produce inky, rich blockbusters. Rather, the discipline was meant to give voice to the hills of the area as expressed through wines made from Sangiovese, Montalcino’s own, unique vine. That’s what Brunello is. Allowing for blending in other varieties may have made economic sense to some producers, but it wouldn’t be progress. It would simply be another step toward global wine homogenization.

Though I expect there were many forms of motivation driving the 662 votes against (versus the 30 for) changes being made to Brunello’s existing guidelines, I applaud – even love – the final decision. Upholding tradition does not always equate to halting progress.

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Real Sangiovese that’s Not from Tuscany

In the wake of all the attention paid to the Montalcino scandals of late – Dr. Parzen wrote a good piece on the matter just the other day – it’s important not to lose sight of the fact that there are plenty of wineries out there still making honest wine from good vineyard sites using the traditional, local clone(s) of Sangiovese. Most of it, not surprisingly (at least not to me), comes from relatively modest, hands-on estates, from people who Alice Feiring might refer to as “emotionally connected vignerons,” from wine growers with a true passion for their land.

In the wake of all the attention paid to Tuscany here in the States, it’s also easy to forget that not all Italian Sangiovese comes from Tuscany. Sangiovese, by most accounts, is the most widely planted red grape variety in all of Italy. It’s particularly focused in central Italy. But I’ve tasted examples from as far removed as Lake Garda in the Veneto and enjoyed, just yesterday at the Boutique Wine Collection tasting here in Philly (more on that in the days to come), a simple but eminently quaffable example from Sicily. One of my current favorites when it comes to everyday examples of Sangiovese – of real, expressive Sangiovese – comes from Umbria. It just happens to come from a larger estate, one that might not fit Alice’s description to a tee but one, nonetheless, which has chosen to play not just by the traditional rules but also according to their natural passions for their land.


Montefalco Rosso, Antonelli San Marco 2004
$17. 13.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Laird & Company, Scobeyville, NJ.
Antonelli’s Montefalco Rosso is typically a blend of 65% Sangiovese with 15% Sagrantino and 10% each of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot. Though Sagrantino must be considered the signature grape of Montefalco, this wine gives proof to the existence of characterful Sangiovese in the region, as Sangiovese certainly dominates the wines profile. Decry it for the inclusion of Cabernet and Merlot if you must, but they’re actually fairly traditional here as opposed to in, say, Montalcino.

In spite of their inclusion, the wine shows a transparent, ruby hue in the glass. Aromas are high-toned, of wild cherries, dried Mediterranean herbs and an attractively subtle touch of freshly tanned cowhide. In the mouth, acidity plays the leading role, focusing a beam of clean, silky red fruit across the middle of the palate. Tannins are fairly gentle and supple. There’s enough innate structure here to stand up to roasted meat dishes but enough versatility to work with a wider range of foods, from hearty pastas to simple, country fare, to sheep’s milk cheeses. On day two, things broadened out a bit with respect to acidity, giving the wine a softer, riper yet no less nuanced feel.

If you’re looking for a Tuscan powerhouse, this ain’t it. Then again, most real Tuscan Sangiovese, most honest Tuscan Sangiovese, isn’t about power. If you’re looking for a lovely example of what Sangiovese can do in Umbria, and what it can do without breaking the $20 threshold, this would be a good place to start.

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One for Porterhouse, More for Fun

I got together with a couple of the UDPs recently, just to celebrate the kickoff of the long, Labor Day weekend. Sharing the haul of fresh produce Bill had landed at Reading Terminal Market earlier in the day was simply icing on the cake.

Mittelrhein Bacharacher Kloster Fürstental Riesling Sekt Brut, Ratzenberger 1998
$20 on release. 13% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.
The occasion seemed to call for an aperitif – something fizzy, perhaps. After pouring Ratzenberger’s 2003 Sekt in the context of my sparkling wine seminar last week, I thought it would be cool to check in on a bottle with a little age under its belt. There’s some lovely stuff starting to develop here, yet it’s still drinking incredibly young. Just the slightest whiff of white truffles. Pale, the color of slightly green straw. The mousse looked large in the glass but felt fine and tiny on the tongue. The wine’s creamy texture was followed by a very persistent, acid driven finish. Very stony and finely detailed. It seemed to correspond in weight and texture to a Spätlese halbtrocken, one lifted afloat on a bubbling brook. The palate delivered flavors of apricot skin and lemon oil, plus loads of mineral extract. With air it became even creamier than at first, taking on a faintly dairy aspect that reminded me, somehow, of Délice de Bourgogne. I’m having a hard time describing it any better than that. But I’d love to try the pairing sometime.

Nahe Monzinger Frühlingsplätzchen Riesling Kabinett trocken, Emrich-Schönleber 2004
$21 on release. 12% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois.
Schönleber’s lighter trocken wines – the basic QmP and Kabinett level bottlings – often take longer to show their goods than their richer counterparts. Three years after release, this is still painfully young, just not as searingly so as when it first hit the market. It’s just starting to broaden out enough to show the breed that’s inherent to all of Werner and Frank’s wines. A lovely, red-spiced mineral character, with fruit tones that ranged from grapefruit to peaches, finished off on a dark, serious note, just shy of stern. Pretty damn tempting now but, if you have any of this, I’d recommend continuing to hold for at least another couple of years. (NB: As of the 2007 vintage, Schönleber has come completely in line with the VdP program and no longer produces wines labeled as Kabinett trocken.)

Toscana IGT "Cepparello," Isole e Olena 2000
$51 on release. 13.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois.
When Bill told me he’d picked up a couple of dry-aged porterhouse steaks from Harry Ochs, I immediately thought of something Tuscan for accompaniment. Even if he wasn’t giving them the full-on “Bistecca alla Fiorentina” touch, there’s something about good Sangiovese that marries just beautifully with porterhouse.

Cepparello is one of the few wines I ever collected. Yes, collected. I put an end to the habit a few years ago as its price started to creep ever higher and as my tastes evolved. But I still have a nice little vertical going in the cellar, from 1997 up through 2002. What better time to check in on a bottle? I picked the 2000 because of the softer, less structured characteristics typical of the vintage. It turned out to be a solid choice, as this bottle was in a very good place. Showing some maturity, it had developed a slightly port-like nose, further perfumed with aromas of dried cherries, cinnamon bark and animal hide. As expected, both its tannins and acids have softened up more quickly than in a more classic vintage. While I expect this should remain solid for at least another five years, there’s no reason not to start enjoying it now. Oh yeah, it was pretty kickin’ with the steaks.

Savennières "Trie Spéciale," Domaine des Baumard 2003
$30. 13% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Ex Cellars, Solvang, CA.
We seem to have gotten into the habit at these get-togethers of following dinner with something Loire, something Chenin. Come to think of it, we did have a little cheese course…. I had always assumed that Baumard’s “Trie Spéciale” was exactly what its name implies: a cross-section of the estate’s best fruit, selected on multiple passes (tries) through the vineyards. A quick look at their website, though, suggests that it’s actually a single vineyard wine, produced from a plot situated between “Clos du Papillon” and “Roche aux Moines.” Those technicalities aside, this surprised me given the vintage. I would have expected either a little RS or at least a full degree higher alcohol. But no, this was dry – not bone dry, but certainly dry – and even a touch on the delicate side. It gave off a big whiff of boiled wool and quince right up front, while the palate delivered white peach, gooseberries and a lightly honeyed touch. An intensely fruit-driven example of Savennières, and quite yummy.

Porto Late Bottled Vintage, Quinta de Santa Eufêmia 1997
$20. 19.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: MHW, Manhasset, NY.
A year and a half into this blog and this is the first time I’ve ever written up a Port? It’s kind of hard to believe, I know, as I actually do like Port. Then again, I hardly ever drink the stuff anymore – especially not in August – so it kind of makes sense. However, given that Bill Jr. whipped up a mean batch of chocolate chip cookie sundaes – made with what we’ve come to call “Crack Cookies,” the addictive goodies from Famous 4th Street Cookie Company in the Reading Terminal Market – it seemed to make perfect sense. Weather be damned. Now, on to the wine.

My notes were nonexistent on this one so I’ll just provide some basic impressions. An LBV from a small, very traditional house located in the Cima Corgo. Bottled without filtration, this is holding up very well. Indeed, there are some late bottled Ports out there that can stand up to cellaring, at least in the mid-term. I remember this being quite decadent yet really well balanced upon release. It’s now shed what few rough edges it had four or five years ago and has reached a very mellow state. Christmas plum pudding and rich black cherry notes dominate. The finish is soft and reasonably long, the alcohol entirely integrated. Not a bad finish to the evening.

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Wines at Salento

Yep, that’s wines at Salento, not wines from Salento.

When eating at home most nights, casually that is, I always try to select a wine that will match well with the meal but don’t usually quibble over the cultural origins of the dish vis-à-vis the denomination of the wine. When going out to eat at a spot with a specific culinary focus, French or Italian for example, I tend to be a stickler for selecting wines from the same country, even right down to a specific region, to match. When dining at Philadelphia restaurant Salento recently, the choice should have been easy – wines from Salento itself, the heel of the Italian boot. In hindsight, wines from Tuscany and Le Marche down, especially reds from Salento and reds and whites from Campania, would have been perfectly suitable given Salento’s culinary scope.

The problem was, there was nary a thing from the southern extremes of Italy to be found in my cellar and I wasn’t up for a wine shopping excursion as prelude to a casual meal out. Red wasn’t too big an issue as there were a decent number of Tuscan bottles from which to choose. White options, on the other hand, were rather more limited. By that understatement, I mean two, just two measly vini bianci from which to pick. As one was a 500ml bottle of Josko Gravner’s Ribolla Gialla, which I wasn’t about to jostle around town, the decision was made.

Langhe Chardonnay, Ettore Germano 2005
From the opposite corner of Italy relative to Salento, this would normally have been an odd choice for pairing with southern Italian food. No matter, it worked. Sergio Germano could be considered a modernist for growing Chardonnay, not to mention Riesling, in the Langhe and for barrique aging some of his whites and reds. For his Langhe Chardonnay, however, he all but eschews wood – only about 5-10% of the wine sees any barrel time – in favor of a fresh, crisp, food-friendly style. When first released, it can be soft and fruity. With just a little bottle age though, it becomes more Burgundian. His 2005 – the current release is 2006 – smelled funky and wound-up when first opened. I was thrown off as it reminded me more of the tangy green character of a Chablis from Laurent Tribut than the usual Langhe Chardonnay. With a bit of air and warmth, it retained its Chablis-like crispness and raciness but rounded out into an easier drinking wine that paired pretty easily with my garlic-inflected bowl of linguine ai frutti di mare. $16. 13% alcohol. Natural cork. Imported by Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.

Indicazione Geografica Tipica Toscana “Fianesco,” Fattoria di Fiano 1999
Given that I was culling from Tuscany, a traditional style of Chianti could have made for a nice partner to my secondo of pork loin, potatoes, pancetta and Brussels sprouts. As the IGT designation suggests though, traditional this was not. A sample bottle received years ago, this had been chilling in the cellar ever since. As I knew little about its specific origins, a bit of research was in order. Fattoria di Fiano is located in the southern portion of the Chianti Colli Fiorentini zone, just north of Classico. According to the notes on Fiano’s website, Fianesco is not entirely untraditional in its blend: 80% Sangiovese rounded out with varying amounts of Colorino, Canaiolo, Merlot and perhaps some Syrah and Cabernet Sauvignon. Its darkness of color, especially for a wine approaching ten years of age (when Sangiovese should be showing some elegant fade), suggested far more than 20% of the non-native varieties. The wine was overtly modern, with big, bold fruit, polished tannins and fairly voluptuous vanillin oak notes. To its credit, it was reasonably balanced, had enough fruit brightness to stand up to the wood and showed slight traces of Tuscany’s expected dusty, spicy tannins. As hinted at above, it was over-matched to my dish and to all but the most red meat intensive of Salento’s dishes. 13.5% alcohol. Natural cork. Sample bottle: price and importer unknown.

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Accidental Adventures in Cellaring

I was already thinking of writing this when I came across Alfonso Cevola’s post on the foibles and fleeting romanticism of inadvertently keeping wine past its time. Thus inspired, I simply must. My wine concerned was not as upsetting to me as Alfonso’s may have been to him. It doesn’t involve a wine nearly as old or something of which I had only a single bottle or had never before tasted. In fact, I look at my experience as positive, even comforting. That last thought makes the following story a perfect tie in to this month's edition of Wine Blogging Wednesday, which focuses on comfort wines, hosted by Joel at Wine Life Today.


The wine in question was the 1997 Vino Nobile di Montepulciano from Fattoria di Palazzo Vecchio ($18 on release, 13.5% alcohol, natural cork, formerly imported by Petit Pois). After enjoying several bottles of Palazzo Vecchio’s beautiful 1996 back in 2000, I picked up a case of the 1997 when it was released in the fall of that year. I figured I’d give a few bottles away to friends around the holidays, drink a few bottles myself and sock the rest away in the cellar. Here’s my tasting note, culled from the archives, from December 21, 2000:

A wine of immaculate structure and finesse, with a perfect harmony between fruit, acid and tannin. The 97 Vino Nobile is still very much in its youth, exhibiting copious quantities of round yet dusty tannins. When first opened, earthiness and cigar box aromas are prevalent on the nose and the palate is actually quite closed. With time in the glass though, this wine blossoms into a true beauty -- full of dark plum and dried cherry flavors with a hint of licorice on the long finish. This is built for the long haul and will almost certainly improve with age. If drinking now, I would recommend decanting this wine at least 30 minutes before serving. Or take the time to savor its evolution in your glass.

I still remember the next-to-last bottle – though I didn’t write a formal note – served at a casual dinner with a few friends about two or three years ago. The Vino Nobile was then showing the full plumage of healthy maturity – a touch of bricking around the rim, a deposit of fine, silty sediment and lovely, mellowed texture.

My last bottle of the 1997 was drunk and considered just a few nights ago, popped open to accompany Sunday dinner and provide a little comfort at the end of a busy, tiring weekend. As soon as I poured I knew I may have pushed this one a bit too far, having half forgotten about it socked away in the back row of my double-deep storage unit. Its color had gone from brickish around the rim to garnet/brick through and through. Aromas were completely tertiary; the scent of red fruits having subsided into more subtly perfumed cherry wood and leather. On the palate, too, restrained spice and rosemary elements remained but the dark brambly fruit of the wine’s earlier years was no more.

Astoundingly, all this considered, the second half of the bottle held up pretty well into a second day. The aromatic character on day two made me think of Madeira; there was an oxidative note yet without the negative traits associated with oxidation. It was as if the wine had developed resistance to oxidation through the slightly oxidative nature of long, gentle cellaring. The wine’s tannins had become more narrow than when last tasted but were still very fine, reminding me of the feel and scent of teak.

As I write this, I realize the wine wasn’t dead; it hadn’t gone that far to the dark side. It wasn’t half bad. In fact, it was quite good or, at the very least, interesting – a solid example of a wine, metaphorically speaking, moved beyond maturity into its full octogenarian glory. I realize that one of the inevitable things about keeping a cellar, however modest, is that you’ll let the occasional bottle get away. I realize that sometimes, if you catch it just in time, it can be a good thing, a learning experience and a perfect impetus to reflect back on earlier impressions. I realize that such experiences serve to strengthen one’s knowledge for the future. And that's a comforting thought.

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Some Recent Tastes

Just a few bottles I've enjoyed with meals and/or with friends over the last couple of weeks that didn't make their way to full posts but were more than worthy of mention. I really do need to get back to Exploring Burgundy. And I can never get enough Riesling.

Mosel Ürziger Würzgarten Riesling Auslese #19, Alfred Merkelbach 2005
Far from profound but nonetheless well balanced and brimming with green apple, white peach and transparent slatiness. A confectionery hint on the rear palate picks up on the wine’s residual aspects more so than up front. A food friendly style, this would make a lovely companion to seared scallops or lightly cured ham.
$20. 9% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Michael Skurnik (a Terry Theise Selection), Syosset, NY.

Petit Chablis, Domaine Vincent Dauvissat 2004
Oyster shells and a bit of fishing pier funk on the nose. Very mineral, medium in scale, and just starting to develop a not unattractive oxidative note, followed by plenty of bitter lemon fruit. Drinking very well at the moment, it should continue to deliver immense pleasure (in spite of the pier funk) in the short term.
$20. 12.5% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Vineyard Brands, Birmingham, AL.

Chablis, Domaine Laurent Tribut 2006
Hitting lots of high notes. Steely, bright and very tight, this should begin to get interesting in another year. Good length, with plentiful limestone-driven mineral character.
$25. 12.5% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Vineyard Brands, Birmingham, AL.

Chablis Premier Cru “La Forest,” Domaine Vincent Dauvissat 2005
There’s breed showing through here, on a stony, gunflint driven frame, with green pear and lemon oil accents. However, it’s disjointed and a tad hot. Needs time to come around to a better place.
$40. 13% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Vineyard Brands, Birmingham, AL.

Dolcetto d’Alba “Coste & Fossati,” G.D. Vajra 2005
Burton Anderson singled out Vajra’s “Coste & Fossati” as the only Albese Dolcetto worthy of inclusion in his wine guide, Burton Anderson's Best Italian Wines. While I enjoy plenty of other Dolcetti d’Alba, I’m inclined to agree with his summation. This is a pleasure to drink in its youth but possesses an aromatic depth and a certain elegance that is less evident in most other Dolcetto. Dark cherry fruit, crushed flowers and freshly turned, loamy earth are at once plentiful yet subtly expressed on both the nose and palate. Very delicate, finely grained tannins. Worthy of your best Burgundy glass, where the aromas of most other Dolcetti might be prone to fall apart. Not as intense as the 2004 but still lovely, it’s just starting to come out of its shell and should hold and develop well for another five years.
$29. 14% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ; Martin Scott, New York, NY.

Chianti Classico, Isole e Olena 2004
Translucent ruby in the glass and lovely right out of the gates, with pure cherry fruit, laced with rosemary accents. After 30-45 minutes of air, it becomes more clearly delineated, with the cherry taking on a sweet yet graceful vanillin tone thanks to a well-executed aging regimen in large, old oak casks. Bright acidity provides lift, lively tannins give texture and, with more air, spice notes drive home the fruit. On day two, the wine is darker, rounder and feels richer in the mouth if a bit more diffuse than on day one. Yummy stuff, built for food.
$21. 13.5% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ; Martin Scott, New York, NY.

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