Through the Years With Bastianich

Joseph Bastianich's wines may be the most visible wines from Friuli in New York, owing to the man's standing as a restauranteur. The man co-owns, with chef Mario Batali, Babbo, Del Posto, Esca and Otto, among others. At each and every one of these eateries you'll find Bastianich's wines well featured on the wine list, with his flagship bottle, Vespa Bianco, the most well represented.

At the Nov. 4 meeting of the Wine Media Guild, Bastianich treated the assembled to a vertical tasting of his Vespa Bianco, beginning at the beginning, with 2001 and running up to the current vintage, 2007, with only 2003 and 2005 missing in action. It was amusing to see Joseph there at Felidia, where the WMG always meets, because the restaurant belongs to his mother, Lidia Bastianich, who showed herself a true mother by watching over and praising her young. Also on hand was Lidia's daughter, Tanya, an Italian art history expert. It was a family affair.

Vespa Biano is what Joe called his "field blend," patterned after blended wines from the family's native Friuli, in northeast Italy. It's primarily a mix of Sauvignon Blanc and Chardonnay, with some Picolit thrown in. The grapes are vinified separately in both steel and oak, and left for almost a year on the lees. The wine is then bottle-aged for another year and a half.

Now, I adore Friulian wines. But to be honest, Bastianich is my fallback. I like the line in general, particularly the 100% Fruilano, but I don't find in them as much depth of character as I do in the work of my favorite Friuli winemakers, such as Gravner, Villa Russiz and Schiopetto. Still, it's respectable wine, and certainly worthy of a examination like this.

I found the bottle I liked best first off: the 2001. It was aging nicely. There was little fruit left, mainly some lime and kumquat. It was the diesel and metallic characteristics the shone most brightly, plus a little not unwelcome oxidation. Joe told me he felt the wine could age 10 more years. The crowd favorite, meanwhile, was the 2004. Not surprisingly, it was a warmer, rounder wine, the flavors of lemon and lime, even if the nose was shut down a bit.

The 2002 was from a wet year. It was more muted than 2001, but had good acidity, some metallic notes, and nice lemon and lime. 2006 was softer and almost watery, with succelent lime and gooseberry notes. I felt the Chardonnay was showing more strongly. Joe called it more "showy" than the other wines. And 2007, which is out now, had the most aromatic nose, full and fruity. The palate was soft, with flavors of lime, tropical fruit and flowers. Here, the Sauvignon was most forward. It's still a young wine, though.

We also tasted two Tocai Plus wine, 2003 and 2005, which I felt had a great deal more personality. These are made from 100% Friulano, and are much more interesting as food partners.

Being Frank about Franc

I seem to drink a lot of Cabernet Franc.

Why is this? Well, part of the reason is my natural attraction to undersung varietals. And Cab Franc is that. Part of it is because of the price. When I'm in the mood for a French red, and don't have the do re mi for a Bordeaux or Burgundy or Chateauneuf-du-Pape (which is often), I reach for a Loire red as a better value for my limited bucks. Another reason is my longstanding interest in the wines of Long Island, where Cab Franc grows well. And, finally, importer Kermit Lynch seems to love the Loire, and, as a subscriber to his wine mailings, I sometimes pop for a case of his Cab Franc offerings. Usually, I am not disappointed, though I have to admit, making your way through a case of the often astringent grape can be a challenge.

So, when I learned that the first 2009 tasting of the Wine Media Guild would be Cab Franc from all over the world, it was like Darth Vader saying to me, "Robert, it is your DES-tiny." Two good speakers were on hand, Long Island winemaker Roman Roth and restauranteur Paul Grieco, owner of Hearth and Terrior in the East Village. Roth was the epitome of European reserve and modesty. Grieco was the epitome of American bravado, even if he is from Canada.

The talented and smart Grieco a member of a brazen breed I like to call the Wine Jocks. These folks, usually men, usually young, approach their enthusiasm for wine the same way sports fanatics talk about last night's game. Every opinion that is thought is also expressed, and forcefully. Attitudes are personal. Cockiness and machismo abounds. I've seen many speakers at Wine Media Guild lunches. Grieco is the only one I'd ever seen who actually worked the room. He didn't stand where he was seated and speak from there. He paced and gestured. I think some members were a bit stunned by this behavior, but the talk was all the more effective for his animation and lung power.

From Grieco I learned a lot about Canadian wine. To you and I and the man on the street, Canadian vino means one thing basically: Ice wine. That's what we see on the shelf. Paul said there is much more to Canadian wine, and there are some great makers, but America sees little of it, because Canadians drink most of it themselves. Also, winemakers sell most of their wine to the government, which then distributes it to the public. (There are no independent liquor stores.) With a guaranteed buyer like that, there is little incentive for vintners to sell wine to the U.S., where they would make considerably less money.

There were four Canadian Cab Francs in the tasting, but, sadly, none of them were impressive. I found them all too flowery and pretty. Grieco called them "mediocre."

There were many French bottles. The thing with Loire Cab Francs, it seems to me, is there's a lot of sameness. With most Chinons, say, you'll get the cherry flavors, the dustiness, the green notes. And then you'll get them again and again, bottle after bottle. It takes great artistry for a wine to stand out. The best among the French wines, I'm happy to say, came courtesy of a WMG member, importer Frank Johnson. His Jean-Paul Mabileau Cuvee Graviers 2006 Saint-Nicolas de Bourgueil was the wine of the day in my opinion: understated, with a dignified nose and palate, and nicely balanced. Others seemed to think so to: both bottles were finished by the end of the lunch.

Johnson told me he sampled Mabileau's 2007, and, not liking what he was tasting at all, asked "How many 2006s do you have left." He bought them all.

Of the Long Island Cab Francs, my favorite was the Shinn Estates. To me, this maker rarely falls down with this varietal. Just the right amount of fruit vs. vegetal notes, and well-structured. There was a $60 job from Schneider Vineyards. I don't really think a $60 American Cab Franc has much reason for being, and, while the Schneider 2005 was rich and big and not bad, it wasn't worth three Jacksons.

The surprise of the tasting were three Canadian Cab Franc ice wines that were served at the end. Grieco said these have become a big hit in the Far East market, where ice wines are loved and red is a lucky color. The best by far was a Pillitteri Estates Winery Icewine 2006 with a fascinating, original nose of rhubarb and strawberries, and similar notes on the palate.

When Wine Writers Gather to Party

The Wine Media Guild held their annual dinner June 16 at I Trulli Restaurant in Manhattan and I was happily in attendance. Everyone was asked to bring a choice bottle from their cellar, and I'm sure glad they were asked! For the WMG has a goodly number of veteran members and they possess some damn fine cellars full of treasures that make your eyes glisten with greed.

I arrived late, which could have been a bad thing, but turned out to be a very good stroke of luck indeed, because it forced me to seize the one available chair left. This was next to wine writer and educator Charles B. Rubinstein, a senior member of the Guild whom I had never met before. He proved good company, AND came equipped with a 1958 bottle of Gaja Barolo. That's right: a bottle of Barolo made by Gaja's daddy.

The evening began with some milling about. There was a table of pinot noirs for the taking. WNYC radio personality Leonard Lopate was in attendance for some reason. I was told he was the guest of our esteemed president Patricia Savoie. I watched him from time to time throughout the evening; he studied the room as if he might paint it.

The main business of the evening was the induction of the first honorees of the new Wine Writers' Hall of Fame. These worthies were Burton Anderson, Hugh Johnson, Edward McCarthy, Robert M. Parker, Jr., Frank Prial, Jancis Robinson, Kevin Zraly, and, postumously, Alexis Lichine and Frank Schoonmaker. (One Guild member stood up and shocked me by saying he had known well Schoonmaker, who was publishing books in the 30s and died in 1976! I would just like to point of here that Schoonmaker was born in Spearfish, South Dakota, simply because I like the fact.)

Prial was supposed to attend, but bowed out at the last moment. That left McCarthy (Mr. "Wine for Dummies") and Zraly as the two inductees present to receive their honors in person. They were introduced by, respectively, the leonine Charles Scicolone, and Wine & Spirits' Philippe Newlin. McCarthy's comments were touching and humble. Zraly ("Windows on the World") talked very fast and excitedly; one could see how he would make for an inspiring teacher.

After that there were just food and wine. Rubinstein also brought something labeled Pietro E Elena Riserva di Nozze 1999, of which he was very proud. He explained that the Piedmont winemaker who made it bottled the wine specifically for his son's wedding and that we wouldn't find it in any store. I didn't catch the name of the winemaker. The varietal Charles wasn't sure of. It was enjoyable, light and leafy, with notes of tobacco, tart plum and charcoal.

Also at my table was a 1982 Chateau Montrose from Saint-Estephe. It had a wonderfully fragrant barnyard nose. There was great breadth to the palate. Deep dark fruit, dark cherry and currents, and beautifully soft tannins. Heavenly smooth. I thought I was drinking just fine, until somebody said: Forget the Montrose! Get a load of the 1978 Haut-Brion that John Foy brought!

As good as the Montrose was, he was right. The Haut-Brion was the best thing I had that night. It began with a fascinatingly metallic, rusty nose, with touches of mustard and sulfer. The palate was equally complex. It came off like velvet rust on the palate, the texture of a very soft cat's tongue. It tasted of violet perfume, elegant and accomplished. Hmm. All my descriptors of this wine sound kind of crazy! But that's what I got. Good wines aren't simple.

There was also a 1981 Cheval Blanc with tasted of sour cherry backed by strong, but soft tannins; a 1974 Latour which was tart, piquant, with still a lot of fruit. And someone produced a Riesling Eiswein from Nahe that isn't being made anymore due to Global Warming. So we were drinking of an extinct species, which was both exciting and depressing. It was a Preis Goldener Staatsweingut Bad Kreuznach 2000. Nice stuff.

And then there was that Jerobaum of Stag's Leap Cask 23 1994 on the front table that everyone said must be a prop and was probably empty. But then it was suddenly opened and passed around near the end of the evening. Turned out, Zraly brought it.

I was a bit like a jack-in-the-box most of the night. Once I had tasted all the wines at my table, I kept popping up and prowling the other tables for likely bottles, filling my glass and then bringing back my bounty. This proved very helpful for a couple young ladies at my table, who were pinned in by the wall and relied on my expeditions to widen their understanding of the night's offerings. I was happy to share and felt quite the hunter-gatherer.

OK. But what about that Gaja? Rubinstein theatrically waited until the end to open the bottle and when he did the supplicants gathered round. I'm glad I was sitting next to him or I wouldn't have gotten any. The color was amazing. Absolutely pure rose. The wine was beautifully light. Dusty and floral on the palate. Purring tannins. I could see from other reactions at the table that it was not to everyone's liking, but I thought it was drinking beautifully.

Chateauneuf-du-Pape at Felidia

The focus of the January meeting of the Wine Media Guild—a group I'm in the process of joining—was Chateauneuf-du-Pape, both red and white. Terry Robards organized the tasting and spoke on and off about the wines during the delicious lunch. (It's always a tasty repast at Felidia, but I'm thinking so much about the wines that I can never remember what I ate afterwards. I know there was a salad with frisse and Pecorino and nuts.)

Now, me, I'm Mr. Underdog, always singing the hymn of the underpraised wine. So, naturally, I'm a fan of the Chateauneuf Blancs, which are really interesting, fullsome wines with lots of character and depth and personality, full of fruit and zest. Also, very food friendly. "A white that thinks it's a red," as someone said. They're still pretty obscure. Many people don't know they exist at all. The grapes allowed in the whites are Grenache Blanc, Clairette, Bourboulenc, Roussanne, Picopoul and Picardin. I was happy to see that there were others around me who liked them. The new sommelier at The Modern—a guest at the lunch—had good words for the whites. And Anita Mizner, who sat to my right, said Chateauneuf Blanc was her favorite wine. (Imagine that.)

Terry said the whites make up only 7 percent of Chateauneuf production, so it was quite amazing that we had nearly as many whites to drink as we did reds. Represented in both colors were La Nerthe, Rayas, Beaucastel, Paul Autard, Bouran and others. (Vieux Telegraphe, sadly, was not on hand.)

A lot of people were murmuring about the Rayas—understandably, given the estate's vaunted reputation. I liked their bottles, but I wasn't sure I they were murmur-worthy. The Rayas red is made entirely of Grenache, the winemakers eschewing all 12 of the other grapes they're allowed to use. The Modern sommelier whispered that this make Rayas something of "a freak" in the Southern Rhone world.

It may seem boring and bourgeoise, but I have to say my favorite in both the red and white categories was the the most famous of the estates represented: Beaucastal. What can I say? They were both just excellent. The white was full, multi-dimensional and yeasty. The red had depth and flavor and finish for miles. As opposed to the single-varietal Rayas, I thought the Beaucastel really benefited from using all 13 grapes. Terry caused a little ripple of surprise when he said he thought the Beaucastel style represented that day was a bit off and strange. Most of the folks at my table agreed with me that the wines were clearly the best in the room. Ah well, critics. When they all agree on something, that's when the world will come to an end.