Parisian Pawn Shops: Now Taking Wine

The Decanter reports that Parisian pawn shops will be accepting wine in exchange for cash for the first time ever. (Funny that it took so long.)

It all goes down courtesy of the Crédit Municipal de Paris, the "local authority" pawn shop, which typically deals in jewels and heirlooms. Wine will be stored in 80 percent humidity cellars under its building until owners redeem them. Wine that isn't eventually bought back by owners will be sold at auction.

The minimum value for pawnable wine is €60. If you're pawning, you can expect to cash in on about 50 percent of the value. (If you don't dig those rates, and can afford to wait for funds, there's always Wine Commune, where oenophiles hawk wares amongst their fellows.)

As of the 25th of March over 350 bottles -- totaling €60,000 -- have been pawned, including an '85 Domaine de la Romanée Conti worth €5,000.

Learn a bit about judging the value of old wines at the Wine Doctor. (Not terrifically optimistic.)

World Wine Map -- Changing with the Climate?

Arg! I'm doing a terrible job of updating here. (Mostly because I've been dry.)

I did get to try a Finger Lakes wine at a local restaurant some weeks ago. It wasn't anything special; not much more than you'd expect from a typical California chardonnay. (More acidic though.) I don't know much about the history of wine in upstate New York; it may become a pet project to try learning something about it.

Anyway, here's a link on how climate change may "redraw" the world's wine-producing map. (Thanks, Candace!) That is to say if France has the best wine because climate and geography permit, it's supposedly in for some serious blows. This could just be another lame way to justify its shrinking global marketshare, which was corroding anyway.

"The French 'Grand Crus' could be further threatened by the 'New World' wines of Australia, California, Chile, Argentina, South Africa and New Zealand, who would have the best climatic conditions," according to the article.

Now, if only the climate could redistrict for us.

Amazon Seeks Wine Buyer to Stock Cellar

Our favourite online big-box is expanding into wine. Will Amazon give Wine.com a run for its money?

Paso Creek Merlot, 2005

Paso Creek Merlot hails from Paso Robles, CA, a place that brings grit and desert to mind. It's a few degrees hotter than hell most of the year, and there's not much to see unless you're into tumbleweeds (which are HUGE, and not much fun to touch).

I picked the bottle out for three reasons:

1. Reading Judgment of Paris made me thirsty for that California pioneering spirit
2. The label had a texture -- like running your fingers over smooth asphalt. And check out the owl!
3. The label promised "bold character derived from stubborn patience." Couple that with an alcohol level of 13.5 percent -- conservative, in my experience with CA bottles -- and I felt like I'd come across the fruit of a radical.

We opened the bottle a few weeks ago. There was no occasion; it just seemed like a good night to throw back a drink. But the moment we popped the cork, I was intoxicated.

Paso Creek Merlot filled the room with a fresh-baked cookie smell. And it reminded me of my favourite shampoo, TIGI oatmeal and honey. All this warm raisiny goodness fell in stark contrast with the stained cork and the rich purple treat that we poured into our glasses.

It was like being in heaven. With a lot of carbs. Drink slowly: If you gorge, you're going to feel the way you did when you were eleven and ate all the molasses cookies. It also bears a slight blueberry aftertaste, which does refreshing battle to the iced oatmeal overload.

We finished it off the next night with chili, something I'd be hesitant to eat with any wine, especially this one. But the wine and chili were so cheerfully well-paired that I'd actually go out of my way to make chili the next time we uncork a Paso Creek Merlot.


Must be that desert charm. From the back of the bottle:

Paso Robles, off the beaten path between Santa Barbara and San Francisco, lays claim to the wildest temperature swings of any grape growing region in California. The daily climate drama causes our vines to produce small clusters and tiny berries, resulting in world-class, deeply concentrated wines. Small lot winemaking and patient barrel aging allow the bold character of our wines to fully develop.

This is officially one of my favourites. I don't just like it because it surprised me with that whole Grandmother's Cookies vibe; it's also unusually casual for a wine of its quality. Take it over a meal with a few good friends, or share it at a bonfire on Ocean Beach.

She Took a Hard Fall, There.

"Oh no, oh dear."

The notion of crushing grapes en pied just lost a little of its razzle-dazzle. I winced at the khaki shorts and I cringed when the woman fell, but it was the slow-mo instant replay that really sealed the deal.

Cristom 2005 Estate Pinot Gris, Willamette Valley

I just finished reading Judgment of Paris: California vs. France and the Historic 1976 Paris Tasting. It made me painfully thirsty for wine from California and Oregon.

So yesterday I hit Red Feet and picked up two bottles from CA -- which I'll open and talk about later -- and Cristom's 2005 Estate Pinot Gris.

Cristom took root in Oregon's Willamette Valley. The estate is owned by Paul and Eileen Gerrie. In the early '90s the Gerries tapped Steve Doerner, who studied at UC Davis, to make their wine. Wine Geeks says Doerner is big on Pinot Noir.

Cristom produces 8,500 cases per year from 65 acres of vineyard. Growths include Pinot Noir, Pinot Gris, Syrah, Viognier and Chardonnay.

Estate Pinot Gris hails from a special vineyard called Emilia. Emilia was planted in '93 with two different clones as well as two different rootstocks. Grapes are fermented in stainless steel tanks. The winemaker says a glassful brings a plate of Hama Hama oysters to mind.

I uncorked the bottle last night. It's easy on the eye: pale yellow, like hay, with a friendly sparkle. A glass of Goldilocks hair! The cork is made of rubber -- an embarrassing relief considering I broke the Vacqueyras one last time.

Then there was the smell! I got fuzzy peaches, hard green grapes and newborn clover. Nothing overpowering; the notes remained just long enough to welcome you home. This is a bottle I'd like to have in Monterey by the seaside.

The taste drew me to the day my best friend and I tried making butter beer, way back when we first started reading Harry Potter.

The butter beer experiment failed, but if we had been successful, this is how it might have tasted: dry and buttery with notes of vanilla and cream, tempered by a longing for the sea.

It's also light on the alcohol, an aid to well-being without stripping you to your coarser nature.

Cristom's Estate 2005 Pinot Gris is a lively bottle that would easily charm a San Francisco meal at the pier. Think fresh bread, newly-caught fish, sharp salty wind, cold stones, colorful parkas and familiar faces.

I miss the West Coast.

Update: We finished the wine this evening. On day 2, the Cristom Estate 2005 Pinot Gris is less buttery and more wild-grassy. Also, Benj used some of it as a base with egg and flour to coat chicken. Sides included organic spinach, oyster mushrooms and rigatoni. It was a feel-good meal; no aggressive flavours. Yum!

Domaine le Sang des Cailloux Vacqueyras, Cuvée Floureto, 2004

I was excited about opening this bottle because I thought it was pretty. What can I say? I go for pretty.

Produced and bottled at the Domaine le Sang des Cailloux ("the blood of stones"), the Vacqueyras is 75 percent Grenache, 20 percent Syrah, five percent Mourvedre and Cinsault grapes aged in foudre, says Hudson Wine Merchants.

The color is a generous royal purple -- almost black -- and the nose is disarming, loaded with Mediterranean olive and pickled fruit, maybe plum, as well as black licorice (my least favourite jelly bean).

The 14 percent alcohol will go straight to your head without waiting for permission, so sip the wine slowly. I got more of that pickled fruit taste, but overall I found Vacqueyras regal and withholding. Its cards are kept close to the vest; if I'd known, I would have waited.

The keys on its bottle are quite apt.

We had the bottle with spiced pork, rosemary-seasoned rice and asparagus in olive oil and lemon powder. The variety of flavor complemented the olive aspect well, but I was feeling heady -- and a little cheated -- before I even finished my glass. Vacqueyras takes without giving back.