Tempranillos

This is a late post. A week late. I was in San Francisco last week, visiting Tracy's family, and we all went to a tapas restaurant in the Mission and tasted two nice Tempranillos, one a traditional Rioja and the other a similarly priced Spanish Tempranillo. Both wines were 100 Tempranillo, which is important to say because sometimes--often?--Temp is blended, much in the same way as Cabernet. In fact, Tempranillo is sometimes referred to as something like "Spain's answer to the Cabernet Sauvignon," though I'm not sure what that means. To me (though please keep in mind, I'm a baby ephebe) Tempranillo is altogether lighter than a Cabernet.

I must say something briefly not just about the wines but about where I purchased them: a store called K&L Wine Merchants, in Redwood City. It confirmed for me the museum-like quality that great wine shops can have. There on the shelves were Bordeaux and Burgundies from the 1960s to the present, arrayed like any old wines (though I noticed a 1965, which I just learned is actually a very poor vintage). They also have a yet-rarer collection of French and California wines in special glass cases against the wall that make you feel special and intimidated. Some of the labels are dirty and weathered. You can almost see the chateau cellar and smell the dank gray stones.

K&L also specializes in large format bottles--Jeroboams, Double Magnums, and even (I think) a Balthazar. Or perhaps it was a Methuselah or Mordechai--or was it a Nebuchadnezzar? These are large, very large, and Super Size Me bottles of wine--the Nebuchadnezzar contains 15 liters of wine.

Or as I call it, lunch.

But seriously, Google "large format wine bottle" and K&L pops right up. Such bottles are not only great sight gags but also age extremely well because, since wine ages due to oxidation, they reduce the ratio of air to wine. They also seem to create the sense of an occasion: to open one of these large bottles
would require a large gathering of some sort. And then, there's the Semitic angle--why are these bottles named after characters from the Old Testament? Did I mention there is also a Melchior (18 liters)? A  Solomon (20 liters)? A Melchizedek (30 liters)?

Anyway, I shuffled over to the forgotten corner where they sell Spanish wine and bought two bottles. They were:

2006 Ovidio Tempranillo La Mancha ($19)
2003 Rioja Alta "Vina Alberdi" Reserva ($20)

Tracy, her sisters Wanda and Jean, her niece Rachel, her stepmother Judie, friend Rosemary Murphy, Paul and I ordered a mess of tapas and tasted the wines. This is what we found out.

Ovidio
This was a deep, dark, almost purple wine, though it lightened considerably at the rim. Odors that we noted included red and black fruits, dark earth, and a general spiciness. The body was "soft and creamy" (Rose), and most of us called it some version of "smooth," though I also found it to be the slightest bit too tangy and sweet on the tongue. It was round and rich, though not as healthily potent as a full-blooded Cabernet. Other flavors we picked up as the wine began to unwind included vanilla ice cream (that was me), strawberries, white sugar, cedar, tobacco, and leather. Tracy also tasted bay leaf, which she's detected in other wines; for her, this means a ghostly spiciness mixed with mild sweetness. The finish to this wine was quite slow. In fact, it began to bother me as I found myself wishing for the last sip to fade before taking the next.

Alberdi
As I was leaving K&L, a clerk remarked that I had chosen a "classic Rioja." I don't know if I know what that means, but I sensed he was right. This wine was, I think, universally liked and rated higher than the slightly pugnacious Ovidio. It was lighter, for sure, almost like a Chianti. There was a hint of oak, but just barely. We picked up pepper but no fruit, none at all. It was actually odd to taste such a restrained flavor. Judie picked up something unique--upon putting her nose to the rim, she said she smelled coconut. She took a few tastes and affirmed it--coconut, clear as glass. Especially against the background of the Ovidio, this Tempranillo showed a lightness and spirit that we all loved.

I'm off to Veritas for dinner, a birthday treat from a friend. This restaurant, in the East 20s, is built around a 196,000 bottle wine cellar. Tune in soon. I think we're going for some white Burgundy.