For anyone who wishes to gain a thorough-yet-manageable knowledge of Italian wine, “Vino Italiano” covers just the right amount of info, with tables and maps for each of Italy’s 20 named regions (though Abruzzo and Molise are grouped together, for convenience). The true strength of the book, however (since there are many books out there than can simply dish the facts), is that each chapter of “Vino Italiano” begins with an interesting cultural angle that helps to fit Italian wine into its unique context (after all, Italians outsip Americans at a pace of more than five to one per capita). But even beyond these refreshing introductions, the book also does an excellent job as it transitions from travel guide to reference guide. For more than 450 pages, the authors deftly navigate the sea of Italian wine, mentioning all of the noteworthy juice, while not dwelling too much upon the obscurities.

Over the last couple years, I’ve done a fair amount of book reviews on this site (and for what it’s worth, I have read every last one of these books). But in homage to the good old days of college life, I’m going to offer my review of “The Hedonist in the Cellar” without actually having read the book. Of course, I would never have included this detail on a college midterm, but I have no issue with divulging that info here. To that end, I should point out that I have read about one-third of the book. When I say that I didn’t read a lot of my textbooks at UCLA, I really meant that I just didn’t finish them. For the most part, I would read enough of the book to develop a sense of the writer’s style, but then my midterms would always arrive sooner than I would’ve liked, and I’d have to resort to CliffsNotes the night before the test.

And so that’s kind of where I am with “The Hedonist in the Cellar,” which I was breezing through fairly quickly until I decided to prepare for my CSW exam last year. As I resolved to begin studying more seriously, I decided to put the book on hold, and it’s been collecting dust on my nightstand ever since. Of course, since Jay McInerney’s book is actually a collection of essays, the text itself doesn’t demand to be read in any particular order, or within any sort of time-frame (what I like to call a good “bathroom reader”). Frankly, I’m fast-tracking this book review because I really wanted to comment on McInerney’s recent appointment as the new Wall Street Journal wine critic. Given the portion of “Hedonist” that I have read, I find this development very interesting and appealing.

To me, the WSJ has always been a unique wine resource, having built much of its reputation under the husband-and-wife duo of Dorothy Gaiter and John Brecher (sidenote: “Open That Bottle Night” is on February 27th this year). The happy couple had penned their column in the Journal since 1998, which takes me back to a time in which I knew very little about wine. I feel that the “can’t-miss” economics of the dot-com boom prompted much of Generation X to begin reading the WSJ, at least occasionally, as “IPO” soon became the acronym on everyone’s lips. Subsequently, I think Gaiter and Brecher exposed many newly affluent Americans to the idea of wine as an approachable luxury, even if their advice may have been grounded in value. For me, the tandem certainly offered a unique voice, and Jay McInerney should as offer something similar.

The essays that I have read in 2006′s “Hedonist” have usually reminded me that McInerney is very much a writer first and a wine critic second. Perhaps his upcoming column in the Journal might take a different tack, but I sure hope not. It’s refreshing to read someone who eschews the 100-point system (I assume) and who approaches his craft with a little more gonzo creativity. McInerny has a great way of putting wine into a vivid context, which is something you almost never see in publications like Wine Spectator. Many of the leading wine magazines — with their alleged blind tasting panels and their ubiquitous point scores — remain somewhat clinical (if not influential) in their approach. Rarely do they pen wine reviews with any sense of character or panache. On the other hand, McInerny wields a style that often reflects elements of P.J O’Rourke and Ernest Hemingway.

Many folks may criticize McInerny for not having enough credentials as wine critic. But I say, so what? With the wide range of wines that “Hedonist” covers, McInerny has certainly invested many years into the subject, and who’s to really say that his opinions and observations are not every bit as valid as Robert Parker’s or Jim Laube’s? With any luck, I see McInerny as someone who has the potential to offer some new perspectives on wine and who will hopefully deliver a little much-needed levity along the way.

Although “The California Wine Book” can no longer offer too much modern insight, the scope of the book is interesting in itself. Today, no single book could ever cover California wine in any meaningful detail, and I doubt that many present-day authors would even attempt to cover the entire Golden State in just one single volume. The explosion of California’s wine industry now demands increased focus and specialization, and there are nearly a dozen California wine regions that warrant an entire book unto themselves. But despite the wine industry’s profound evolution, “The California Wine Book” does provide an interesting snapshot of a very different era. What I find especially fascinating is that the book captures the Napa Valley at a very pivotal moment in its history, just months (or perhaps only weeks) prior to the legendary Judgment of Paris.

For those who might be rusty on their Napa folklore, the famed “Judgment of Paris” established a profound paradigm shift within the Napa Valley, as two Napa wines topped the very best French wines in an international blind tasting competition (an eonological “Miracle on Ice,” to be sure). The two wineries responsible for this historic victory — Stag’s Leap Cellars and Chateau Montelena — are both acknowledged in “The California Wine Book,” although neither winery receives any special recognition (if the authors only knew what revelations were looming on the horizon). In this context, “The California Wine Book” offers a great depiction of the Napa landscape right before the big shift, before the phrase “cult wine” was coined, before winemakers became rock stars, and before Napa Cabernets hit triple (or even double) digit prices.

• • •

The Napa Valley chapter of “The California Wine Book” organizes the wine industry into (a) The Big Seven and (b) all the others. I found this division particularly interesting, since some of those “Big Seven” wineries (Bealieu, Beringer, Christian Brothers, Inglenook, Charles Krug, Louis Martini, and Robert Mondavi) no longer exist. Among those missing today, the authors noted that Christian Brothers — which was pushing 2 million cases of wine annually in 1975 — refused to vintage date any of their bottlings. This practice really struck me as odd, but apparently, the winery (owned by the Catholic Church) had made a devout commitment to offer super-affordable wine. Christian Brothers winemaker, the legendary Brother Timothy, employed very complicated “fractional blending” techniques, much in the way a Port producer would use the “solera” system. The book acknowledges that this unique approach was an anachronism, even in 1976.

Among the Big Seven producers, it’s revealing to note that by 1976, three wineries had already been purchased by large corporations, proving that big business was already sniffing out potential profits in the wine sector. Hublein Corporation, which introduced then-executive Andy Beckstoffer to the Napa Valley, was responsible for the purchase of Inglenook and Bealieu, while Beringer had been sold to Nestlé in 1971. Many other food-and-beverage corporations, including Pilsbury and Coca-Cola, made similar acquisitions in the years following the Judgment of Paris, but with very little success (and some colossal failures). The Napa Valley still features plenty of corporate ownership these days, although alcohol-related entities currently prevail (Fosters Group, Constellation Brands, Diageo, and the rest).

• • •

Of the 30 “other” Napa Valley wineries that “The California Wine Book” mentions, the authors subdivide this list into two further categories: “Small” and “On the Brink.” Some of the “Small” wineries include such stalwarts as Heitz Cellars, Stag’s Leap, Chappellet, Joseph Phelps, Stony Hill, Sterling, Franciscan and Chateau Montelena. Among this group, some of these wineries have remained family-owned over the years, while other wineries have been absorbed by large corporations. Most recently, Stag’s Leap was purchased by Italian-based Antinori in 2007, while Chateau Montelena was almost sold in 2008 (ultimately, the deal with Cos d’Estournel fell through by the year’s end, as the U.S. economy also took a dramatic turn for the worse). These days, Montelena is no longer up for sale, and the estate has now been owned by the Barrett Family since 1972.

Perusing through the entry for Chateau Montelena, I wondered if Mike Grgich would receive a mention as the winemaker, since it was his Chardonnay that prevailed at the Judgement of Paris. The authors of “The California Wine Book” do mention Grgich, and his profile is actually a dominant portion of the Montelena entry. At the time “The California Wine Book” was published, Grgich was still an partner at Chateau Montelena, perhaps just weeks before his relationship with the Barrett Family would ultimately unravel. After putting Montelena on the world stage at the 1976 Paris Tasting, Mike Grgich would soon leave the winery to launch Grgich Hills in 1977 (backed this time by Austin Hills, the heir of Hills Brothers Coffee).

Among the list of “On the Brink” wineries, I was amused to find “Silveroaks Cellars,” which had not yet released a single vintage at the time of publication (Silver Oak did have a wine program dating back to 1973, however, and was it due to make its debut either in late 1976 or early 1977). I also noted an entry for Diamond Creek, another legendary winery in its very infancy. As with Silver Oak, Diamond Creek also launched its campaign with the 1973 vintage, soon to become California’s first recognized cult wine (I believe that Diamond Creek Cab still retails for $175, if you can even find it). Silver Oak, on the other hand, has since emerged as a 100,000-case-per-year juggernaut (you can find this wine anywhere), with its Napa Valley Cabernet fetching $100 per bottle (don’t do it).

Of course, many people never concern themselves with any of the technical aspects of winemaking. I feel that to some extent, ignorance is bliss, especially when wine can be appreciated without some requisite evaluation. But for those folks who cannot drink wine without dissecting it, without trying to guess the percentage of malolactic fermentation in Chardonnays, or without sniffing for hints of Cabernet Franc in a classic Bordeaux blend, then Steve Heimoff’s “New Classic Winemakers of California” offers some revealing and insightful interviews.

In many ways, “New Classic Winemakers” presents a fairly current state-of-the-union for California’s fine wine industry. In doing so, Heimoff addresses several hot-button topics during his interviews, including wine’s recent rise in alcohol level, a phenomenon that is sometimes justified, but rarely embraced. To his credit, Heimoff also inquires about removing alcohol after-the-fact, which is one the wine industry’s dirty little secrets (google “spinning cone column” to learn what no winemaker would personally care to admit). Of course, Heimoff does not elicit any scandalous confessions in his book, but at least the author has the gumption to address the issue.

Even in the modern age, discussions with winemakers are also bound to contain some heavy doses of philosophy, and Heimoff succeeds in drawing out some cerebral discussions of terroir, which help to strike a balance with the technical digressions. Even so, “New Classic Winemakers” is definitely geared towards a niche audience, and therefore my recommendation is astonishingly simple: if you recognize the names of some of the winemakers in this book, then there’s a good chance that its contents may interest you. Otherwise, there are plenty of texts you’ll need to read before this one.

Given its title, one might assume that “Noble Rot” is limited to the realm of Sauternes, but William Echikson’s book actually provides a survey of the entire Bordeaux region, from the upstart garagistes to the most famous chateaux. Echikson presents a revealing portrait of the region, which has only recently begun to feel the effects of the globalization of wine. These changes have ushered in a new era of modernity in Bordeaux, creating a growing niche for high-priced winemaking consultants, as well as a new market for French cult wines.

With the advent of globalization, “Noble Rot” also examines the recent American influence in Bordeaux, especially that of übercritic Robert Parker, who established his reputation with the legendary 1982 vintage, and who has continued to influence tastes on both sides of the Atlantic. Depending upon whom you ask, Parker is equal parts hero and villain in Bordeaux, although the region itself features plenty of its own home-grown controversy. In some cases, this controversy has garnered a public forum, and “Noble Rot” also details the region’s most infamous family feud, a bitter legal battle that lead to MHLV’s hostile purchase of the legendary Chateau D’Yquem in 1996. Among this recent context of courtrooms and multimillion dollar lawsuits, the term “noble rot” certainly assumes a whole new meaning today.

]]> http://www.thirstyreader.com/book-review-noble-rot/feed/ 0 http://www.thirstyreader.com/book-review-to-cork-or-not-to-cork/ http://www.thirstyreader.com/book-review-to-cork-or-not-to-cork/#comments Sat, 13 Dec 2008 08:41:22 +0000 Thirsty Reader http://www.thirstyreader.com/?p=98 In his book “To Cork or Not to Cork,” author George Taber devotes 265 pages to bottle closures, a fact in itself that demonstrates at least one universal truth: that wine aficionados are an odd, yet passionate lot. After all, who else would read an entire book on this particular subject? Even wine guru Karen MacNeil, who contributed the foreward to the text, was at first a bit skeptical, and for very good reason. An entire book dedicated to the cork-versus-screw cap debate? Honestly, I sometimes feel that wine aficionados must be the Trekkies of the culinary [... read more ...]]]> In his book “To Cork or Not to Cork,” author George Taber devotes 265 pages to bottle closures, a fact in itself that demonstrates at least one universal truth: that wine aficionados are an odd, yet passionate lot. After all, who else would read an entire book on this particular subject? Even wine guru Karen MacNeil, who contributed the foreward to the text, was at first a bit skeptical, and for very good reason. An entire book dedicated to the cork-versus-screw cap debate? Honestly, I sometimes feel that wine aficionados must be the Trekkies of the culinary world.

Admittedly, I had been looking forward to reading “To Cork or Not to Cork” ever since I learned of its release last year (which says a lot about me). Taber’s previous work, 2006′s “The Judgment of Paris,” was a terrific book, and I felt that the cork-versus-screw cap debate had rarely ever been addressed in depth and without bias. I approached “To Cork or Not to Cork” with the hope that I would be able to discern, once and for all, which side was correct, and which statistics I should ultimately believe. Of course, nothing that has been debated for this long can ever be that simple.

The debate, being as heated as ever, could easily continue to play out for decades; but even though Taber does not provide his readers with all of the answers, he certainly provides every single bit of evidence along the way. And while casual wine drinkers may not particularly care about the difference between a “technical cork” and an “agglomerated cork” (or, for that matter, an “extruded cork” and a “molded cork”), the first chapter of the book does provide a wonderfully concise overview of traditional cork production and its long-standing connection to fine wine.

I would be delusional, however, if I claimed that the remainder of “To Cork or Not to Cork” is geared towards anyone but the true wine aficionado (in which case, Taber’s book is most definitely required reading). I must admit that this situation is a bit ironic in some ways, since even the most novice wine drinkers can easily appreciate some of the main issues behind the cork-versus-screw cap debate. In particular, one major angle of the controversy — tradition versus innovation — is extremely simple to grasp, regardless of one’s level of wine knowledge.

But even though some of these core cultural issues are certainly approachable, the actual science behind this debate remains far too heady for the casual observer. Who, besides the most devoted wine drinkers, really cares about the villainous chemical compound TCA (otherwise known as “cork taint,” and also at the heart of the controversy)? To take this question even one step further, who besides an experienced wine drinker can readily identify TCA? Quite frankly, “To Cork or Not to Cork” is a book aimed only at those of us who are already too far gone, Spock ears and all.

]]> http://www.thirstyreader.com/book-review-to-cork-or-not-to-cork/feed/ 0 http://www.thirstyreader.com/book-review-the-widow-clicquot/ http://www.thirstyreader.com/book-review-the-widow-clicquot/#comments Sun, 07 Dec 2008 08:19:20 +0000 Thirsty Reader http://www.thirstyreader.com/?p=96 In spite of our present fascination with Champagne, it should come as little surprise that one of the region’s most legendary figures, Barbe-Nicole Clicquot Ponsardin, remains mostly a mystery. After all, the Champagne region itself has been the source of many wine-related myths and mistruths, perhaps none greater than that of Dom Perignon, the monk at Hautvillers whom is often cited as the benevolent inventor of sparkling wine (in reality, Perignon was a gifted blender of still wines, but he considered bubbles to be a major flaw).

In the case of Clicquot Ponsardin, the mystery [... read more ...]]]> In spite of our present fascination with Champagne, it should come as little surprise that one of the region’s most legendary figures, Barbe-Nicole Clicquot Ponsardin, remains mostly a mystery. After all, the Champagne region itself has been the source of many wine-related myths and mistruths, perhaps none greater than that of Dom Perignon, the monk at Hautvillers whom is often cited as the benevolent inventor of sparkling wine (in reality, Perignon was a gifted blender of still wines, but he considered bubbles to be a major flaw).

In the case of Clicquot Ponsardin, the mystery surrounding the widow’s life stems less from myth than from a simple lack of information. Because the milieu of 19th Century France remained staunchly chauvinistic, very few women appeared in the public record, and quiet anonymity was the social norm for mothers, wives and daughters. As a result, the founder of the Veuve Clicquot empire, despite becoming extremely wealthy in her own lifetime, remains a somewhat shadowy image, much more of a name brand than a national celebrity. Although we do know of the marriages and the deaths that helped to shape Clicquot Ponsardin’s life — as well as many of her shrewd business tactics — the real details of her personal history must be extrapolated.

In her book, “The Widow Clicquot,” author Tilar Mazzeo constructs an admirable biography, drawing careful conclusions between what little we do know and what we can safely assume. Naturally, with the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars as a backdrop, the book offers a rich and compelling history lesson (and in truth, most books about the Champagne region benefit from France’s tumultuous past). As a narrative, “The Widow Clicquot” is the culmination of Mazzeo’s diligent and exhaustive research. While it would have been terrific if Clicquot Ponsardin had kept an actual diary, this book provides readers with the next best resource.

For the true wine aficionado, the simple appreciation of the Napa Valley scenery will ultimately lead to more cerebral moments. With so many discussions regarding terroir these days, the inquisitive connoisseur will undoubtedly look beyond the sheer beauty of Napa, and attempt to draw specific connections between the landscape and the wine that emerges from it. In time, thoughts on terroir will lead to several fundamental questions regarding the Napa Valley itself, the primary question being: how, exactly, was the Napa Valley created? In many ways, asking this question is an attempt to understand the very core of winemaking.

Jonathan Swinchatt and David Howell’s text, “The Winemaker’s Dance,” reveals many of the mysteries behind the formation of the Napa Valley, offering an enlightening view of California’s geological history. To be sure, Swinchatt and Howell’s book is not casual reading by any means, although the authors do perform the admirable task of making geology eminently approachable for the lay reader. Even so, those who wish to gain clear scientific insight may need to read the first chapter of the book more than once — 140 million years of geological history requires a somewhat dedicated level of attention.

“The Winemaker’s Dance” is replete with interesting information, and is supported with plenty of helpful pictures and illustrations throughout the text. In later chapters, the book broadens its scope to include discussions on farming practices and modern winemaking techniques. For those who can visit the Napa Valley in person, the book also provides two chapters that are essentially self-guided tours, explaining the terrain as one drives north along either Highway 29 or the Silverado Trail. “The Winemaker’s Dance” is honest in its approach, and the authors readily admit that the link between terroir and taste is not yet supported by any hard, scientific evidence. Even so, the book does offer a unique perspective, giving the beauty of the Napa Valley a proper backstory.

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