Paul Jaboulet Aîné Côte Rôtie Les Jumelles, 1997

According to the Jaboulet website, the Syrah composing Les Jumelles hails from vines aged between 15 and 40 years. The wine is left to its own devices for 12 months in oak barrels, about 20 percent of which are new wood.

That probably explains the smokiness. To the credit of the growers, this seems to add to, rather than subtract from, the personality of the final product.

We had this bottle during Christmas dinner and I have never seen or tasted anything like it. (Then again, I am new to this.)

The nose is met with a sharp smell that brings Mediterranean olives to mind. The wine itself gives off a dull gleam, like dusty rubies.

It tastes distinctly like I would imagine roasted earth to taste -- smoky and sweet, like smoked holiday ham (crowned with a pineapple, like the ones Mom would get from Goldilocks and claim she cooked herself).

It paired well with the home-made chicken pie and young boiled carrots -- indeed, Côte Rôtie Les Jumelles seemed to add a garnet luster to the sweetness of the carrots and the creamy heartiness of the pie.

True to form, the wine left bits of sediment at the bottom of the glass, adding to its earthy feel.

I've heard it said that wine represents a kind of communion between man and the soil he tills, but before this particular bottle I've not felt so close to the land from which these grapes were gleaned.

Domaine de Durban Muscat de Beaumes de Venise, 2005

I will raise my hand before talking, do the dishes when it's not my turn, and skip dessert in exchange for a good Muscat. And if you aspire to make me the happiest person alive, at least for the evening, I don't think you can do any better than Domaine de Durban's Muscat de Beaumes de Venise.

The color of pale gold, this honey-and-rose-scented pleasure tastes like the first bite of a fresh chilled Fuji apple. A slightly substantial, honeyed sweetness lingers thereafter.

You hardly feel the 15 percent alcohol -- there is no wine shudder -- and, according to the site, the vineyards for the 2005 batch are 25 years old.

The grapes are pure Muscat à Petits Grains. Berry Bros. & Rudd says Muscat Blancs à Petits Grains are the most noble variety of the Muscat family and cites Muscat de Beaumes du Venise among the best vin doux naturels in France.

Sans doute!

Unless you have company by, I don't recommend buying a bottle for home. Once chilled and opened, this is best had quickly and in sparing portions. It's hardly something you want to have on hand all the time; that would be like Santa coming twice a week. Horrors!

Viña Bosconia Reserva Rioja, 1999

The official breakdown:

Tempranillo 80%
Garnacho 15%
Graciano 3%
Mazuelo 2%

The estate, R. Lopez de Heredia Viña Tondonia, SA, is located in Haro (Rioja Alta), Spain.

This bad-boy is the colour of communion grape juice and its 13 percent alcohol count says "Hello!" after half a glass.

First olfactory impressions include red berries, black licorice and raw meat -- in that order. Then again, I had it with lamb and potatoes, so maybe I was under the influence of my eyes. (I doubt it.)

I'm into Spanish reds because they taste and feel a little like blood. This one is slightly herby and was, at outset, overwhelmed by the meal (provincial lamb and plain potatoes -- it wasn't meant to be overwhelming!). It was like drinking weak club soda.

With time a slight meatiness developed, followed by the usual metallic taste -- which is where the thoughts of blood start coming in -- and a bitterness in the back of the throat, not unlike cloves, but with a slightly sweet upturn.

It didn't seem very interesting at first, but a bit of time and a few more sips betrayed a pleasant tang and blackberry aftertaste.

Côtes du Rhône, 2005

No photos of this one; Benj ordered a glass of it the other night to go with his dinner at a French restaurant in Ithaca called Dijon. I can't say I'm crazy about it, though I couldn't quite tell you what "it" is -- according to this resource, the Côtes du Rhône appellation covers over 1500 wineries and 100,000 acres.

The area produces 95 percent reds, which (generally?) break down as follows: Grenache (topping the mix at 40 percent), Syrah, Mouvèdre, Carignan and Cinsault grapes.

The 2005 red is dark for its age, but the taste reveals a superficial kind of youth.

At first scent I got strong blackberry notes; a deeper inhale revealed something antiseptic. Rubbing alcohol?

A sip gave way to the taste of red currant. This came and went with sips that followed. Overall, the wine didn't much linger.

As Expected, Blanket Ban on Chaptalization 'Watered Down'

Yesterday the EU Parliament voted to "water down" a reform on the wine sector that included a blanket ban on adding sugar to the mix.

Adding sugar to a wine increases the alcohol content of the final product. Typically, blends with a high alcohol content fare better on the mass market than blends that do not.

Subsidies to maintain distillation, and to assist low-quality producers who desist production to be disbursed in three years (versus five), were brought to table. Subsidies for wine "enrichment" via must were also called for. Complete reforms are expected to appear next week.

The reforms are intended to clear the "wine lakes" in Europe and improve sales.

EU to Empty 'Wine Lakes' Into Sucrose-Lined Caskets

Here's a winning proposition: hold off on a proposed ban to adding excess sugar (chaptalization) to European wine, and instead penalize vineyards that aren't turning a profit or are distilling wine for too long.

This will bankroll the European wine industry. It will also flood our market with wine that does little besides daze us with a high concentration of alcohol.

Small wineries that sacrifice short-term profit for a quality vintage will fall to the wayside.

If the world wants so much alcohol, why not leave wine alone and turn to our old friend vodka?

V. Sattui Johannisberg Riesling, 2006

I managed to score a bottle of this "off dry" Riesling from my uncle, who's a big California wine geek.

Label legend has it that the Vittorio Sattui Winery was founded in 1885 by an Italian immigrant of that name. His great grandson, Daryl Sattui, is currently maintaining the winemaking tradition.

Sattui produces product in small lots and vends it strictly from the winery, located in St. Helena.

Benj and I opened the bottle this evening after chilling it for a short period. First impressions include a strong lemon smell, maybe lemongrass, but I'm leaning more toward verbena now.

The wine winks, a little like champagne; its color is a cheerful pale yellow.

I tried it and was reminded of lychee, a lightly sweet and mellow pink-white fruit, but something slightly more abrasive hits the back of the throat, clearing the nostrils.

After a few more tastings I recognized the feeling and the smell: Mustard flower. The Napa valley has this stuff growing everywhere!



This launched me into a story about toluene and how the inclusion of mustard seed can discourage children in Third World countries to stop sniffing glue. Not the best dinner conversation.

Anyway, this white is sweet and slightly heady. It would probably be nice with a citrusy, soft cheese like brie. In any event, it did our chicken pie and mashed potatoes justice.