Tag Archives: Oz Clarke

Salty Old White Men

Published on January 6, 2020

I thought it was a hoax when I first read the anonymous letter Tom Wark published on his site.

Now I don’t think that Tom made it up. But it feels like whoever sent it to him was working overtime to come up with the most insane caricature of a feminist Natural Wine zealot they could muster. Right down to the over the top capitalization of “MANipulated” wines.

There’s no way that this could’ve been real, right?

It seems like someone made a New Year’s resolution to do more shit-stirring in 2020–digging up not only the Natural Wine debate but also a good, old fashion row of “cis white men are the root of all evil.”

And, frankly, as both a feminist and wine geek who loves the excitement of natural wines, the sentiments of Wark’s anonymous commentator pisses me off.

Because it doesn’t do jack to move the conversation forward.

Before I go on, I should confess a bias since Tom Wark did write a very positive review of this site. But I’m not writing this post to come to Tom’s defense. What concerns me more is how daft diatribes like those of his anonymous writer distract from important discussions that the industry needs to have.

The wine world has diversity issues. That’s indisputable. It’s gotten better but–particularly in the realm of wine writing–it’s still largely the domaine of heterosexual, cis white males.

I’ve got bookcases full of wine books that are more than 80% authored by old white dudes. Pulling out some of my favorite books written by female authors, I could barely fill one shelf. And a good chunk of that is from Jancis Robinson.

Everywhere I go in my wine journey; I’m following the echos and opinions of old white men. When I’m researching a new region or wine, my first introduction is almost always through the lens of someone who sees and tastes the world quite differently than I do.

A tale of two bookshelves. There are a lot more shelves that look like the top image than there are of the bottom.

And I at least have the privilege of sharing the same western Caucasian heritage as most of these writers.

I can’t imagine what it is like for POC and folks from non-western countries wadding through tasting notes, analogies and descriptors that are entirely foreign to their own.

Pardon Taguzu, a sommelier from Zimbabwe, made this point well noting, “I never grew up eating gooseberries, so I will never taste that in a wine.” For folks like Taguzu, they’re more likely to pick up the flavor of tsubvu in a Napa Cabernet Sauvignon than they would blackcurrant.

In blind tasting exams, mango and other tropical fruits are standard notes you look for in New World Viogniers. But how helpful is that for an Indian wine lover from a country with over 1500 species of mangos?

Think of all that we lose, as a wine community, when we’re not hearing these diverse voices.

We need these other voices to add depth and inclusiveness to the narrative of wine.

But acknowledging that craving for diversity doesn’t mean we have to demonize the old white men who came before. We don’t need to burn chairs to add more places to the table.

Oz Clarke, salt bae

Tossing aside the contributions of folks like Hugh Johnson, Oz Clarke, Matt Kramer and their ilk is like tossing the salt from your cabinet. It’s not going to make you a better cook. Nor will losing these voices make the world of wine any richer.

Yes, it’s a seasoning that certainly needs to be limited in our diets. Lord knows that too much of salty old white men running amok leads to groanworthy sexism. But those are the ills of using a shovel when a dash will do.

While the flavor of wine writing is enhanced by bringing in more curry, cayenne, ginger and sage, we shouldn’t denigrate the role that salty old white men have had in preserving this passion.

Even though we certainly can (and should) scale back on the amount of salt taking up space on our bookshelves–you can’t replace it. Their opinions and insights still have value next to all the other seasonings that enliven our understanding of wine.

We need to build bigger spice racks, not “Fuck the Salt”.

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Geek Notes — New Wine Books for April

Amber LeBeau in Food Pairing, Geek Notes, Wine Knowledge

Published on March 31, 2019

Today was a gorgeous 69 degree (20.6°C) day in Paris. In my old stomping grounds of Seattle, it was mostly sunny and 52°F (11°C). There is no doubt that Spring is on our doorsteps.

I’m going to be apartment hunting over these next few weeks looking for a permanent place to call home. A big priority for the wife and I will be to find a flat with plenty of natural light. My Parisian dream is to curl up on the couch with a good book in the afternoon light with the ambient sounds of the city below.

Even though I’ve got around 20 boxes of books currently on a boat, I’m always on the lookout for more. With that, let’s take a look at a few recent releases that intrigue me.

Cheese Beer Wine Cider: A Field Guide to 75 Perfect Pairings by Steve Jones and Adam Lindsley (Flexibound released March 19, 2019)

Now that I’m in the land of a 1000 cheeses, I feel like this is a subject that I need to bone up on.

I already own Steven Jenkins’ Cheese Primer which is kind of like The Wine Bible of cheese. It’s a great book that I wholeheartedly recommend but it is a bit dense (576 pages) and likely outdated (1996).

While Jenkins’ book does touch a little on wine pairing, I’m very intrigued at Jones & Lindsley new work offering more of a pairing focus across a variety of beverages. This could come in handy as I start using the SpitBucket Instagram page to catalog my quest to try as many new cheeses as I can.

Tears of Bacchus: A History of Wine in the Middle East and Beyond by Michael Karam, Editor (Hardcover released March 1, 2019)

Sourced from File:Archeological sites - wine and oil (English).svg made by Makeemlighter. Uploaded to Wikimedia Commons under CC-BY-SA-3.0

Archeological sites where evidence of ancient wine and olive oil making have been found.

I was a history geek long before I was a wine geek, so anything with the words “wine” and “history” in the title is sure to capture my excitement. Two of my all-time favorite wine history books are Hugh Johnson’s Vintage (sadly no longer in print) and Patrick McGovern’s Ancient Wine: The Search for the Origins of Viniculture.

Both of those books devote chapters to the viticultural history of the Middle East (more so in McGovern’s work) but as part of a greater overview of wine history.

What’s intriguing about Karam’s work is the specialized focus on wine from the cradle of civilization. He certainly has the background and pedigree after previously contributing Middle Eastern sections in both the Oxford Companion to Wine and The World Atlas of Wine as well as authoring Wines of Lebanon.

Languedoc-Roussillon (Guides to Wines and Top Vineyards) by Benjamin Lewin MW (Paperbook released March 10, 2019)

Vines in the Minervois region of the Languedoc.

This is the latest offering in Master of Wine Benjamin Lewin’s fabulous series of French wine guides. I can not rave enough about Lewin’s work and have already bought several in this series.

They are all under $10 ($7.99 for Kindle) and easily digestible at 112 (Wines of Alsace) to 182 pages (Wines of Burgundy).

But don’t let their slim size fool you. These books are chockful of great details that both wine geeks and newbies will find worthwhile. They not only give you a feel for the land and key producers but are particularly invaluable for anyone planning to visit these regions. I got immense use out of the Burgundy book during my trip there last year which sold me on this entire series.

Beyond travel plans, anyone who is studying for French wine certification is well advised to take a look at Lewin’s books. You won’t find a better value among study materials.

Red & White: An unquenchable thirst for wine by Oz Clarke (Hardcover release March 26, 2019)

Oz Clarke

Oz Clarke is a legendary wine writer who is highly regarded for his wit and highly personable presentation style. His latest offering tackles the changing dynamics of the wine world today. This includes chapters on Portugal’s growth out of the shadows of Port, the impact of climate change on the “cool climate” regions of Germany, Austria and Switzerland, England’s growing sparkling wine industry and more.

While not necessarily a buying guide–at 656 pages–Red & White features several of Clarke’s buying tips and favorite producers.

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Petrus — The Super Bowl of Wine

Amber LeBeau in Bordeaux, Wine reviews

Published on March 11, 2018

I finally got a chance to try one of my bucket list wines–a bottle of 2006 Petrus from Pomerol. My wife and I originally bought it for our early December wedding anniversary, but then I got a cold, so we shelved that idea.

We were going to open it up for Christmas Eve, but another cold hit. So we decided to hold off till we both were 100% healthy and entirely on point with our tasting sensibilities before cracking into this baby. My tasting notes (and whether I think it is worth the cost) are below after a bit of geeking.

The Geekery

What makes Petrus, Petrus?

As Clive Coates notes in Grands Vins: The Finest Châteaux of Bordeaux and Their Wines, the phenomenon of Petrus as a cult wine for Bordeaux lovers is a relatively new creation. As recently as the post World War II years leading up to 1955, the wine merchant Avery’s of Bristol had exclusive rights to buy up virtually all available allocations of Petrus–which it usually did–but would struggle to find buyers.

While there is some evidence of winemaking at the estate dating back to the 1750s, the first recorded mention of Petrus can be found in the 1837 notebooks of the merchant house Tastet and Lawton. Here the estate was owned by the Arnaud family and considered the third best property in Pomerol behind Vieux Château Certan and Trotanoy. In pricing, it fetched far less than the top estates of the Medoc and only a third of the top estates of St. Emilion such as Ch. Belair. But its reputation for quality was soon to be discovered, as David Peppercorn noted in his work Bordeaux. At the 1878 Paris Exhibition Petrus won a gold medal–becoming the first wine from Pomerol to earn such an achievement.

The fortune (and pricing) of Petrus began to change in the 1920s when its owner, M. Sabin-Douarre, started selling shares of Petrus to the proprietor of his favorite restaurant in Libourne, l’Hotel Loubat. The restaurant’s owner, Madame Loubat, continued purchasing shares from Sabin-Douarre until she was the sole owner of Petrus.

The Loubat and Moueix Era

When my wife and I were in Bordeaux, we drove around for at least 40 minutes through Pomerol trying to find Petrus. We kept passing by the property. It was so unassuming and not what we expected.

Stephen Brook notes, in The Complete Bordeaux, that at this point Petrus was being priced on par with the Second Growths of the Medoc. However, Mme. Loubat wanted everyone to know the high quality of Petrus and began demanding higher prices.

In 1943, she hired Jean-Pierre Moueix as the sole agent in charge of not only distribution of her wine but also production. Soon Petrus was never priced below the acclaimed Premier Grand Cru Classé ‘A’ estate of Cheval Blanc. It was also beginning to rival the First Growths of the Medoc.

Moueix started out owning Ch. Fonroque in St. Emilion before beginning his négociant business–mostly to help sell his estate wine. When Mme. Loubat passed away in 1961, she bequeathed Moueix a single share of Petrus while splitting the rest between her niece and nephew. Over the next few years, Moueix gradually bought out Loubat’s heirs and assumed full ownership of Petrus by 1969.

Today the Moueix family owns several estates in Bordeaux including Trotanoy, La Fleur-Pétrus, Hosanna, Latour à Pomerol, La Grave, Lafleur-Gazin and Ch. Lagrange in Pomerol; Ch. Bélair-Monange and Clos La Madeleine in St. Emilion as well as Dominus, Napanook, Othello and Ulysses in Napa Valley.

The Blend (or lack thereof)

While historically Petrus has kept a small parcel of Cabernet Franc on the property, they have been gradually replacing them all with Merlot. The 2006 vintage I tasted was 100% Merlot.

Why So Expensive?

The grounds of Petrus with vineyards to the right. The weather was gorgeous the week we were there, with it only raining on our last night, so we didn’t get to experience the muddy clay sticking to our shoes.

Petrus certainly has distinctive and unique terroir. Wine writer Oz Clarke describes it in his work Bordeaux as “…one of the muddiest, most clay-clogged pieces of land my shoes have ever had the ill luck to slither through.”

Petrus sits on a “button-hole” of blue muddy clay which covers a subsoil of gravel that is followed underneath by a virtually impenetrable layer of hard iron-rich crasse de fer. The soil is around 40 million years old compared to the 1 million-year-old gravel soils surrounding the Pomerol plateau. The dense, hard smectite clay causes the vine to struggle as its roots cannot penetrate deep. However, the soil amply retains moisture. This trait becomes invaluable during warm years and dry summer months when the risk of hydraulic stress is high. As Jeff Leve of The Wine Cellar Insider notes, there is no other wine producing region in the world that has this soil structure.

There are about 50 acres of this unique soil in Pomerol.

While neighboring estates like Vieux Château Certan, La Fleur-Pétrus, La Conseillante and L’Evangile have some parcels featuring this terroir, Petrus is the only estate exclusively planted on this soil with 28+ ha. Additionally, Petrus is located on the top of this gently sloping button-hole which allows for better drainage during wetter years.

The vines of Petrus are relatively old with some parcels dating back to 1952. The root systems of other parcels are even older because of (interestingly enough) the 1956 frost that devastated the Right Bank. It killed nearly 2/3 of Petrus’ vines. However, Mme. Loubat refused to replant completely and instead attempted the untested technique of recépage. She ordered her workers to graft the new vines onto the established root-stock. The move was criticized by viticulturists and other estate owners who thought that these vines would only produce for a few vintages. However, decades later these vines are still viable.

High Priced and Labor Intensive Viticulture

I wasn’t brave enough to go up and touch the building.

The Moueix family spares no expense when it comes to tending the vines, with severe yield restrictions of 32 to a max of 45 hl/ha (3 tons an acre) with some years going as low as 17.5 hl/ha. In contrast, many well-regarded estates frequently harvest at 60-70 hl/ha.

If inopportune rains hit close to harvest, Moueix will rent a helicopter to hover over the vines and dry them off. In 1992, they covered the entire vineyard in plastic sheeting to avoid excess moisture seeping into the ground. They wanted to avoid any chance of the rain plumping up the berries and diluting flavors.

Like with top Sauternes, harvest is done at Petrus on a berry by berry basis with vineyard workers manually picking the individual grapes off the vines. These 100% de-stemmed berries are then hand sorted with an optical sorter joining the process only since the 2009 vintage.

Limited Supply and Very High Demand

After fermentation and malo, the wine is aged in 50% new French oak for 18-20 months before going through a rigorous selection process. During this time the winemakers narrow the barrels down to only the very best that will go into the final Grand Vin. Anything that doesn’t meet the grade is sold off as anonymous Pomerol. It’s every Bordeaux insider’s dream to figure out where these “discard barrels” of wine go.

Here is where we ultimately get down to the most significant cost driver. Each year, the estate produces only around 2,500 cases (30,000 bottles) of a single wine.

I honestly don’t think they will ever make gummy bears from Petrus like they do with the 5 million+ bottles of Dom Perignon.

Compare this to the 31,000+ cases of Ch. Latour, the 10,000+ cases of Opus One or even the 5 million+ bottles of Dom Perignon produced virtually every year. The scarcity and high demand mean that so few people will ever get a chance to try this wine. Those that do, unfortunately, have to pay dearly.

The Wine

So how was it? I knew that this was a wine that really should’ve been holding onto for at least 15-20 years and, even then, given a good several hours of decanting. But this was more about sharing a moment with my wife. So we popped it open when she got home and watched it evolve as we cooked and savored dinner.

Pop and pour

Medium intensity nose. Red fruits–plums, raspberry and a little earthy funk that is not defined but intriguing.

Palate has medium-plus acidity, very juicy and fresh, with medium tannins and medium-plus body. The red fruits carry through and then WHOA the mid-palate jumps with an assortment of spice that I will need some time to piece out. Minute and half long finish right now.

After an hour and a half in the decanter

Nose is now medium-plus intensity with the spice notes coming out more with a little herbal thyme. The fruit is also more rich deeper and dark–like Turkish fig and black currants.

The palate is still juicy with medium-plus acidity. The spices are getting a little more defined–making me think of Asian cuisine with tamarind fruit, star anise, coriander seed and pink peppercorn.

After 3 hours

Would St. Peter rob Paul to drink Petrus?

Still medium-plus intensity nose but a little tobacco spice has joined the party. Still has the mix of Asian spice with black currants and a smidgen of eucalyptus. Pretty remarkable how this keeps evolving. Truthfully, I can only imagine how much more evocative this would get if I had the patience and restraint to milk this out over several more hours.

The palate is still incredibly juicy with medium-plus acidity. The wine seems to works against any desire to ration and be restrained. The mouthwatering acidity makes you want to take another sip and then another. The tannins have gotten more velvety at this point. The finish has topped out at about 2 minutes with the cornucopia of spices being the last notes.

The Verdict

So is it worth $2600 (when I got it in November 2017) to now at $3000 a bottle?

Kinda.

It truly is a remarkable wine that enchants you as it continuously evolves in your glass. Not just hour by hour but sip by sip. It’s an experience that I’m quite pleased to have had but, at the same time, it is not necessarily an experience that I feel compelled to ever splurge on again.

As I mentioned in my reviews of the Samuel Adams’ Utopias and the Pappy Van Winkle 20 yr, a lot of the cost (and subsequent pleasure) for these Veblen goods often comes from the hunt to finally acquire them. For me, getting a chance to try a Petrus was a bucket list item–just as jumping out of an airplane and meeting Jancis Robinson is. It is always a thrill to check a bucket list item off.

I’ll also somewhat borrow an analogy from my Behind the Curtain post about wine pricing. In many ways, drinking a wine like Petrus is like attending the Super Bowl.

How much would you pay for one night of entertainment?

With only around 70,000 tickets for a single game each year, how many people in their lifetime get a chance to watch the game in person?

Ask yourself, how much of a premium would you pay for the privilege of attending a game that could very well suck (especially if your team loses)? And what are you really paying for but just a single night of an experience that is over after a few hours? How different is that from sharing a single bottle of wine?

My wife is a native Boston girl who was a Patriots season ticket holder during the crappy years. We finally went to Super Bowl in 2017 when the Pats played the Falcons.

Now compare that to how much you pay to attend a regular NFL playoff game, a regular season game, a college game or even your local Friday night high school game? Of course, you can argue about the potentially superior play of NFL players playing at the pinnacle of their profession but, likewise, you can debate the potentially superior terroir of Petrus, the craftsmanship of Pappy Van Winkle, the uniqueness of Utopias, etc.

The truth of the matter is–no one needs to attend the Super Bowl just like no one needs to try Petrus. There are a lot of great football games at all different levels. Likewise, there are lots of great wines at all different price points. Whether or not it is “worth it” is purely about how much the experience means to you.

For me, they were both worth it.

After attending the Super Bowl once and tasting Petrus once, I treasure both experiences. I am grateful that I had those opportunities.

But I don’t feel like I ever need to do either again. When I think of all the other things I could do for the same costs (travel, enjoy multiple bottles of Ch. Angelus, Ch. Palmer, etc.), I am content to happily check those things off the bucket list and move on to the next experience.