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Best of 2012
My three estates and wines of the year ...
David's Article Archive
About David Schildknecht
If I have to (as I was asked) single-out just three estates, collections, and wines that
most thrilled me in 2012, what a contrast from one another these three turn out to
represent! I've spent so much time over the years at one of them that although I swear
(as tasting notes are my witness ;-) I never drop my critical stance while tasting, I still
have to resist a temptation to imagine I'm family, because that's how the Saahses
would like to treat me. I visited another for the first time this year, and if you'd asked
me prior to January, 2011 whether I would ever meet its legend-in-his-own-time
proprietor, I'd have said "not likely." I've never been even remotely close to (i.e. on the
same island with) – much less visited – the last of my trio.
Nikolaihof
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Every visit since my first in 1996 has been memorable, but it took me a couple of
years to really acquire ... well, I think it would be more elucidative to call it an "ear"
than a nose, palate, or taste for their wines. It's not snobbism or a ridiculous flight of
metaphoric fancy (or at least, that's what I'd like you to believe;-) when I say that one
must be a quiet place and listen carefully to the at times stark polyphony of Nikolaihof
Rieslings. The site of a Roman garrison and the last mission of St Severin (who
planted the first Wachau vineyards), its courtyard incorporating a Gothic chapel, the
Nikolaihof still utilizes (or, to be more precise, reactivated after a mere 19 year lapse)
a 40 foot long 17th Century press crafted from a tree that must have sprouted in the
late Middle Ages. Not only does the Saahs family – staunchly biodynamic since long
before "bio" was a fashion statement – bottle and release their wines at a leisurely
pace, they also subject a select few to a decade or more in cask. (Even a century ago,
2-3 years in fuder was the Germanic norm.) Such Nikolaihof "Vinothek" releases can
reach a rarefaction of flavors as well as reach into a place in one's sensory black box
(dare I say "soul"?) that few wines even remotely approach.
The most recent collection here – tasted this month – was among my most memorable,
encompassing superb releases from multiple vintages. Words nearly (! ;-) failed when
faced with their recently-bottled 1995 Riesling Vinothek. Among things that
astonished me about this goosebump- and saliva-inducing libation from St. Severin's
own legendary Im Weingebirge was that although Nikolaihof wines – including this
one – seldom dazzle in aroma, the palate effect in this instance was somehow
uncannily akin to an endless floral suffusion and inhalation. And when I say "endless"
... well, F. X. Pichler had the chutzpa to name one of his Rieslings "Unendlich" (and
it’s a wine whose instantiations have sometimes raised gooseflesh on these arms, too),
but this Nikolaihof Riesling stole my sense of time.
Cayuse
I paid two long 2012 visits to Christophe Baron, deriving about as much organoleptic
excitement as one possibly can from a dozen hours spent with one's shoes in vineyards
and one's nose in a glass of wine. Details on my response to both wine and vineyards
can found in my inaugural report on Washington; and given the number of
superlatives I expended there, you might well imagine that I'd find it hard to single-out
for its excitement just one of the wines on which I published tasting notes. So I won't.
Instead, I'll simply elaborate on a comment I made there about the inaugural 2011
Syrah The Tribe, from Baron's ultra-densely-planted vineyard in the cobbles of
Milton-Freewater, Oregon that he has made famous. (It's no longer his newest, though,
since the Blue Mountain precipice I described in my report has since been planted.)
From barrel, this displays a depth and richness allied to fineness of structure and
deftness of dynamics that promise an eventual model of complexity and grace. (Given
the demand and clamor for Baron's wines, it's not as though I risk triggering some new
avalanche by mentioning this wine in the present context. And in keeping with
convention long-established at The Wine Advocate and Cayuse, I only expect to be
reviewing their 2011s in 2014.)
Domaine Abbatucci
Comparing Nikolaihof's wines to polyphony was only a metaphor; but what do you
make of a grower who literally has the choral polyphony for which his homeland is
famous broadcast to his vines and barrel-aging wines? Now that Jean-Charles
Abbatucci has begun to acquire some of the fame he deserves (though hardly to equal
that of his heroically short-lived ancestral namesake), I'm told the music – rather than
emanating from loudspeakers mounted to his pick-up – is performed live. That's by no
means the only unorthodox winegrowing behavior in which this Corsican original is
implicated. (Bear in mind, I've never personally met the man – though I have visited
the fortified village at the southeastern edge of Alsace where his eponymous forebearer was cut down in battle.) Abbatucci's recent projects include a "Gris-" and
"Rouge Fraise –Impérial" resulting from letting vines, un-pruned, revisit their riparian
roots as he imagines them having done for centuries. You laugh. And you might laugh
when you taste them, too, but I bet that – like mine was – it will be a laugh of delight.
You can read about some Abbatucci wines in issue 196 and his whole current slew of
wondrous oddities in an upcoming report. The project I feel compelled to single out
here, though, involves vines from ancient Corsican cultivars that his father collected as
cuttings and established on a rocky granitic site in the early '60s. This vineyard was
never intended as a museum but rather as a living link – in some instances possibly the
very last – to vine varieties and a way of life that persisted just short of a millennium
from the Genoese conquest (with vines in tow) to the mid-20th Century. In that spirit,
Abbatucci, his horses and singers cultivate it, resulting in a "Cuvée Collection" two of
whose trio (none – did I really need to note this? – recognized by French AOC laws)
I've thus far been privileged to taste. In singling-out here the 2010 Cuvée Collection
Rouge: Ministre Impérial Jacques-Pierre-Charles Abbatucci – named for another
(Napoleonic) ancestor – I had to make a close call, because the wine dubbed Général
Jean-Charles is very nearly as remarkable and easily one of the most intriguing and
irresistible white wines I've tasted in the last several years – forget just 2012. Like that
white, Abbatucci's "J-P-C" red is distinguished above all for its rivetingly complex
aromas; uncanny sense of levity and energy; tug on the salivary glands; textural
polish; and haunting length. I'll spare you my whole breathless tasting note (wait for
my upcoming Corsican mini-report) or even the names of the seven grapes that inform
this amazing creature of the wild, scrubby Corsican countryside and its innovative
denizen. These unique Abbatucci cuvées will stretch your imagination.
+++
A few more of the most improbable vinous trios in my recent experience
No need to be humble
Here are three variations on Bordelais themes about which you might not have heard
and I could scarcely believe when I ran into them.
Luke and Toni Kilyk – he a patent attorney; she a physician – named the inaugural
release of theirGranite Heights estate's grand vin 2010 Humility. When I tasted it
from barrel, I was shocked that a wine of such promise – very much fulfilled in bottle
– could come from young vines and inexperienced part-time growers, not to mention
from Warrenton, Virginia. But when you start talking with Toni and Luke about what
they're doing, their meticulousness and determination are evident; and they’re being
advised by renowned ampelographer-turned-viticulturalist Lucy Morton. ("Barbelo" –
a blend of Merlot and Barbera representing Granite Heights' only other bottling – is as
original as it is delicious, 'though at 15.8% alcohol even headier than Humility.)
Granite Heights' "Humility" didn't, however, come totally out of the blue. Several
folks who could afford to re-invent themselves as vintners and chase what others
considered a Quixotic dream have lately been demonstrating that Virginian granite can
bring forth serious Bordeaux-styled reds, but none more ambitiously or convincingly
than Dutch-born Rutger de Vink of Delaplane, who understudied with Kees Van
Leeuwen at Cheval Blanc and now collaborates with renowned oenologue Eric
Boissenet. The RdV 2010 Rendezvous (even more than its two predecessors) is a
revelation in harmonious and polished concentration. (And could you ever have some
fun with brown-bagged RdV bottles!)
With one mouthful of an estate name: Cantina Kopp von der Crone Visini; a
location on few wine lovers' radar screens (the breathtakingly beautiful mountains and
lakes of Ticino); and a plethora of site-specific Merlot-dominated reds understated in
style, it's small wonder if you're unaware – as I was – of what Anna Barbara von der
Crone Kopp und Paolo Visini are rendering in their scrupulously-tended vineyards and
sophisticated facility, results of a 2006 merger of two estates that led to them
marrying. I'll save their story for later and simply suggest that you audition one of
their wonderful wines, particularly 2010 Tinello. Fruit intensity without the least bit of
superficial sweetness; carnal depth; myriad floral and mineral nuances; and sheer
mouthwatering savor make this lean, downright refreshing (11.5% alcohol!) 100%
Merlot from glacial moraine in Switzerland's southernmost village, Pedrinate, a wine
that can change your mind about many things! (While tasting, I likened it to gnawing
on a marrow-rich bone, and now that I have an eight month old, already 50 pound
poodle at my feet determinedly demonstrating, I'm quite convinced that was the right
metaphor.)
Courting Madame Pinot
I'm getting so many unexpected insights lately into the worldwide extent of seductive
Pinot Noirsthat it’s almost misleading as well as unfair to dozens of growers
(particularly Oregonian, but also some Swiss, not to mention French and Germans) to
single out here just three; but theirs were themost improbable among many
revelations.
It's taken me too long to begin doing justice to the Spätburgunder (a.k.a.
Blauburgunder) of Switzerland and southwestern Germany; and even then, the estate
of Hanspeter Ziereisen (in Baden, just over the frontier from Basel, and by odd
coincidence right across the Rhine from where Général Jean-Charles Abbatucci – see
above – met his heroic end) would have eluded me but for the recommendation of my
friend and astute fellow wine journalist Stephan Reinhardt. Ziereisen – whose cellar is
an old bomb shelter immediately above which rattle high-speed trains – has in recent
years accomplished a metamorphosis in élevage, resulting in wines that reject
prevailing German or Swiss wine fashions (as I'll explain further on a future occasion).
Any of his recently-bottled 2010 Pinots – none of which will be released until this
Spring – are apt to amaze you, but if I were to single out one for the most finesse and
mystery (from barrel), combining floral, carnal, and mineral allure with striking purity
of dark berry fruit, it would be his 2010 Schulen.
The first time I made the all-wheel-steep drive up to Christine Vroom's and her
veterinarian-turned-vintner husband Dennis's rocky vineyard I was literally shaken and
disoriented: a 5.8 earthquake had just struck nearby. (After near-missing or sleeping
through many in California, West-Central Virginia had a surprise for me.) Radio
responses were still incoherent and cell phones were out. When I left four hours later, I
was still rather disoriented and awed, but by more than the grinding of tectonic
plates. Ankida Ridge 2010 Pinot Noir isn't yet great wine, but it's a mouthwatering,
multi-dimensional, mindset-mending demonstration of what's possible in Virginia's
Blue Ridge from virgin vines and green vintners whose hands were forced into an
early August harvest by heat. Speaking of which, late-August picking last year only
just escaped Hurricane Irene; and given the quality of that fruit as well as some
changes of regimen in their tiny but well-equipped cellar, I expect the Vroom's 2011 to
shake-up lots of tasters and their preconceptions.
As I already reported in detail in issue 202, a major part of what floored me about
Steven Thompson'sAnalemma wines – and in particular his already profoundly
complex 2010 Brut, a wine he plans to disgorge when he and it are good and ready,
which might be years from now – is that it rises to the challenge of an almost
universally-denigrated, large- and loosely-bunched bastard-Pinot called Mariafeld
planted so high up into the foothills of Washington's Mount Adams that by his own
admission "there's no way those grapes would ever ripen enough in this site to produce
a good red wine." (And as readers of issue 202 will also know, the corresponding,
bubble-free rosé, too, is more than just adorable.)
By any name, just as neglected
Whatever you call it, a once-prevalent Northern European cépage gets a bad rap for
being better-known as a table grape (or, in Alsace, as an agent of German viticultural
imperialism). But put the right genetic variants (of which there are many) in the right
soil as well as the right hands andChasselas – a.k.a. Gutedel; a.ka. Fendant – can
render among the most distinctively and irresistibly delicious whites on earth.
Where they’re famous for Chasselas – the only place – is in Switzerland's Vaud,
whose steep, towering terraces along the North Shore of Lake Geneva can in the best
instances yield whites of distinguished subtlety. They are low-acid – usually undergo
"malo" – yet leave you groping for mineral descriptors that do them justice, as well as
for another glassful of something so instantly refreshing. The extremely insightful,
articulate Blaise Duboux and his 2010 Dézaley - Haut De Pierre Vieilles
Vignes won’t let me rest until a U.S. importer steps up to the plate.
Vaud veteran Pierre-Luc Leyvraz renders a single Chasselas bottling from a mosaic
of parcels, committing a number of winemaking fashion faux-pas along the way. He
showed me a remarkable vertical, so while you might want to look out for the vibrant
and succulent 2010 that has recently been imported, I'll single out here the 2007 StSaphorin Les Blassinges whose silken amalgam of almond, quince, green tea, iris,
and honeysuckle has haunted me ever since.
Back to the outskirts of Basel and Hanspeter Ziereisen (for more about whom, see
under Pinot above) – one of the friendliest and most disarmingly honest wine growers
I've ever (and had never) met – who, as it turns out, crafts Chasselas I could drink
every day of the year. I realize that Heugumber (denoting his - far from! - "basic"),
Ohrechübler (for Extra-Brut, seven years en tirage!) or Steingrüble don't appetizingly
roll off your tongue, but dip it into the 2010 Gutedel Steingrüble and tell me that
doesn't astonish you for its wealth of herbal, floral, and mineral detail not to mention
sheer guzzle-ability.
And now for something(s) completely outrageous Wines improbably delicious and in multiple respects unorthodox.
I can't let any list of remarkable recent vinous experiences pass without reference to
Jura vigneronJean-Francois Ganevat, on whom I reported in detail in issue 201. I
discounted Ganevat in selecting three estates and wines of the year 2012 because my
visit with him actually occurred in 2011, but moreover it was impossible to come
down in favor of any single wine in his stunning 2010 collection (most of which has
only recently been bottled and no whites from which will appear stateside before early
next year). Here are Chardonnay-based wines in their own uncannily compelling key;
Savagnins with and without "the veil" (of flor); idiosyncraticly delicious reds; as well
as a unique field blend from 17 different indigenous cépages unauthorized by AOC.
(Personally, I hate to do anything that will add to the demand for Ganevat's modest
production and the minute percentage of it that comes to the U.S. – but it's my
professional duty ;-)
Switzerland's high-alpine Valais boasts astonishingly steep vineyards, most of which
hug the infant Rhône as it winds toward Lake Geneva. Its roster of indigenous grapes
is prodigious, and when joined by practically every white or red cépage made famous
in Alsace, Bordeaux, Burgundy, or the Rhône; compounded by a multiplicity of styles;
and frequently overlain with dubious winemaking fashion, results in a diversity that I
sometimes find maddening. That said, there are few bottlings that I would want to see
young Robert Taramarcaz of the Domaine des Muses relinquish, whether his
Chardonnay, Fendant (a.k.a. Chasselas), Marsanne, Païen (a.k.a. Heida), or Petit
Arvine; his Cornalin, Gamay, Humagne, Merlot, Pinot, or Syrah. Wine after wine,
with few exceptions, this vintner displays an intuitive yet investigative sense for the
potential of his grapes and sites, allowing them to speak with eloquence in a
conversational (as opposed to overwrought or overly-stylized) tone. You'll be happy
you sought out the small quantities of these that have recently started to reach our
shores.
Friends helping me locate potentially interesting growers in Pennsylvania (where I
grew up) suggested a visit to Va La Vineyards. After some persistence, I received
from proprietor Anthony Vietri an odd reply – clearly not meant to be coy or
unfriendly – recommending I spare myself the trouble. I'm sure glad I didn't, because
the highly unorthodox quintet that issues from two dozen (mostly Italianate) cépages
(largely in field blends!) on six acres set just back from the main drag of tiny
Avondale (northwest of Wilmington, Delaware) is worth a detour; and Vietri is
passionate, experimental, articulate, and focused on vineyard excellence. Whether his
orange "white" La Prima Donna; his deep rosé Silk; Cinderbox; Cedar; or Mahogany
(the smoky and chocolaty-rich 2010 of which was due to be bottled about now, but
won’t be released before late this year) these will cause you to lick your lips as you
rethink many things you thought you knew.
David Schildknecht, January, 2013
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