1985 Dom Perignon

At some point during the mid-1980s, my father was given a gift of a bottle of 1985 Dom Perignon champagne. It's a beautiful green bottle and comes in its own cardboard display box, with a little pamphlet explaining (in English and French) all you'd need to know about this peach of a sparkler.

So in the 1980s, the bottle was given. And there it sat, in my father's basement. Through the end of the Reagan and Bush years. Through Clinton's two terms. Through the entire Bush spectacle. And finally, through the opening moves of the Obama administration. Why? Out of reluctance, I imagine, to drink what one has. To save rather than to savor, own rather than drink. This makes me think of the verb To Have. Its double-meaning couldn't be better expressed than in this desire to both have a wine stored safely in the basement, and to have it with friends. Is the fear that by having a wine one might feel had?

In any case, I imagine some time in the early '90s would have been an auspicious year for uncorking this fine wine. Unfortunately, 2010 has proved to be a few administrations too late.

Why? The wine was, after all, drinkable. The sparks still flew across the tongue, and one could even say that all that time had enriched the light champagne, added texture and depth. There were distinct flavors of burnt toast, caramel, honey, and soft wood. I've read tasting notes from vintage Dom Perignons, and often the descriptor is "sherry-like," which seems right. The color was gorgeous, a saturated ochre. It was mature and wise.

And yet, it wasn't very pleasing to drink. I had to draw on purely intellectual capacities to enjoy it, to tell myself that something here was special. In fact, it probably was special. But ripeness, in this case, is not all.

So, Caveat Imbiber: have your wine.

Italian Whites II

Wait a minute . . . how many Italian whites are there? I think I've stumbled into an enchanted wine forest. There are, I'm coming to learn, literally hundreds of white Italian grapes. Today I'm tasting four new ones: Pallagrello Bianco, Vermentino, Insolia, and Verdicchio. What are they? I have no idea. I guess I didn't realize how many varietals are grown and bottled and consumed besides the grapes of global fame--Riesling, Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc. This seems especially like an Italian thing (though I recently noticed the Swiss have lots of mysterious white grapes too). Last week, I was most excited by the Greco. Come on and let's see about these new aspatsafumatos!

2005 Alois Pallagrello Bianco ($25)

The Alois is very good! Very full and rich, lots of body and flavor, but in no ways too succulent or overbearing. The nose is deep and soft and wooded, the mouthfeel fat and loose. Great tastes here, of tropical fruits, including maybe pineapple and banana (maybe that last one's a stretch). The finish is cool and slow, and the tastes linger and develop on the tongue. Bold wine, not for absentminded sipping.







2009 Toscona Vermentino "La Spinetta" ($23)

Much lighter than the Pallagrello, round and breathy, almost no detectable acidity. In fact, this wine is almost weirdly flat in the mouth, like a very still lake of water. Melony, curvacious. A hint of pine sap. Maybe even some kind of muted fantasty spice-rack spice, like powdered orange rind. The fumes sing up in the high parts of the nose, almost tickling them. Quite lovely, a perfect balance between fullness and light.





2007 Mulinea Insolia "Curatolo" ($15)

The Insolia grape can be found all around Italy, but if it's spelled "Insolia" rather than "Ansonica," you're drinking a Siclian wine. This is beautiful, greenish-yellow wine with herbaceousness and a certain summery heft. Tracy thinks it's a little on the sweet side, though I don't taste the sweetness, just a little extra girth, especially in contrast to these lighter wines. It's fresh and clean, and drinking it now it somehow seems like a hopeful wine. It has a pleasing acidity, and ends with a surprising rush of flavor on the front of the tongue.


2009 Fattoria Laila Verdicchio dei Castelli di Jesi ($12)

This Verdicchio is decent wine, though not quite as nice as the other three. It's on the clear side, and has a waft of "white wine smell"--that oafy, somewhat lugubrious tone of cheapy white. Still, it's not a bad everyday wine, light and inoffensive and quaffable.

Italian Whites I

I've noticed so many types of Italian white wine lately, and I've tried some that are fantastic. Last Thursday I tried three wines, all for $16--a Falanghina, a Vernaccia, and a Greco. (I tasted a Greco in South Carolina a few months ago and loved it, so I'd been searching one out.) It's probably a better idea to try varietals next to each other--a Falanghina with a Falanghina--but my local wine shop only has one of each varietal. They were:

2009 Campi Flegrei Falanghina ($16)

Crisp, light, apple and white fruit, wide in the mouth, a slow finish. A touch of milky strength, but a good deal of honest fruit flavor that softens it out.


2009 Vernaccia di San Gimignano La Lastra ($16)

This is the famous Tuscan white. It's incredibly bright and lithe, quick on the tongue and full of hard lemon. Glinting, machine-like, steely and nervous. So thin the flavor blots out a little.


2009 Ocone Greco ($16)

The clear favorite of the three (Tracy agrees). More depth, more color, more layers. There is citrus and honey and something like a bark lengthiness to it. More character than the Vernaccia or Falanghina.

More Italian whites to come . . .