Credit: wineaccess.ca

The judging, and related events spanned four days (Aug 22-25) during which 1100 Canadian wines were tasted, evaluated and scored. The tasting was mostly blind – that is, the varietal or blend was known but no other information about the wine – price, vintage or producer – was provided.

In addition to the core tasting, judges had a packed social itinerary which involved getting whirled about the city (and outskirts) on a comprehensive culinary and wine expedition. Topping the agenda were personalized wine-paired dinners (Five Fishermen in Halifax, Tempest in Wolfville, Le Caveau in Grand Pré) and guided tours of our valley wineries and vineyards (Benjamin Bridge, L’Acadie Vineyards, Gaspereau Vineyards, Luckett Vineyards and Domaine de Grand Pré). Most judges were seeing NS wine country and tasting its wines for the first time; the bright acidity and balance of our L’Acadie Blanc, the fresh aromatics of NY Muscat and the richness and delicacy of our best-effort traditional method Sparklings. Add to the judges’ own writings and tweets there was local and national media coverage providing tremendous and necessary exposure for the NS wine industry.

Judges at Gaspereau Vineyards (Credit: wineaccess.ca)

The competition itself is an enormous and meticulously well-organized operation. The scope and scale of the judging is fascinating and truly eye-opening. Nearly 95 wines were tasted per day by each judge in a brightly lit cellar-temperature controlled room from about 8:30am till late afternoon. Themed flights of 10-12 wines were the norm with each wine individually evaluated and scored by each judge and discussed within the group for consensus. The better wines were tasted again in the Finals round and the stand-outs once more in the Best Ofs.

Going in, one of my top fears (in addition to making an idiot of myself) was palate fatigue. How does the palate stand up to the constant onslaught of sugar, acidity and tannin? Remarkably well it turns out, if the conditions are right. The time of day was key – the palate being perkiest in the morning, along with proper pacing, regular palate-cleansing, and old fashioned focus. I’ve experienced far more exhaustion and loss of concentration from a late-night Sommelier lecture flight, than at this marathon tasting. Illuminating.

Red Blend Final Round Flight

The highlight for me personally, after meeting the extraordinarily skilled group of judges, was getting the full (or near to full) spectrum of Canadian wine. Much of my own tasting experience covers wine from other parts of the world. The Atlantic provinces see only a fraction of the wine produced in the rest of the country and even less from the top producers. Most Atlantic Canadian wine drinkers are  more familiar with the wines of Oz than of the Okanogan, sadly.

Personal impressions: some outstanding single-varietal Whites, White Blends, Pinots and Sparkling wines. Red Blends, Cabs and Merlots were  slightly more controversial with fierce tannins and big oak dominating in many cases.

I look forward to pouring over the results in the Winter 2011/2012 issue of Wine Access Magazine.

The Ten Bells

Great atmosphere – small, convivial, rustic, with polished touches – a white marble bar top and funky industrial lighting. It’s cash only, and the menu is strictly chalkboard. At first the wine list appears small, but it’s well chosen with a good selection by the glass and bottle that changes regularly along with the food. At 8pm on a humid Friday night it was rammed with people spilling out onto the sidewalk. We managed to cluster around a high counter toward the back and settle on the Domaine Pascal Pibaleau “La Perlette” – a lightly sparking Rosé from Touraine made from the elusive Grolleau.

La Perlette Sparking Rosé

Domaine Pascal Pibaleau is a biodynamic producer with a focus on natural, organic farming methods including manual harvesting. The alcoholic fermentation for La Perlette is stopped partway through and the wine sits on its lees until disgorgement. Neither sulfur nor dosage is added. A fantastic wine! Lively but delicate fruit, chalky minerality, a touch herbacious, lightly petilant with balanced acidity and a dry finish. Fun to drink and a dream with the spicy octopus, chorizo and duck rilette we devoured.

Uva

Uva Wine Bar on The Upper East Side was the following night. Another sticky, late evening so we grabbed an outdoor table on their busy sidewalk patio. Specializing in Tuscan fare, it has a hefty wine list with an impressive Italian section. Uniquely, each wine is listed with the varietal in bold, followed by the producer, which I discovered was really handing for navigating (E.g. PECORINO IL FEUDUCCIO ’09 MARCHE 33) Most wines appeared to be single-varietals rather than blends, perhaps by design.

Uva Sidewalk Seating

We ultimately decided on a Ribolla Gialla from Friuli-Venezia-Giulia, La Tunella “Rjgialla”. Very aromatic – lots of pear and quince on the nose with a touch of spice. I was expecting more fresh fruit on the palate but “cooked” fruit was what came through with a slight bitter/nuttiness I often get (and like) in good Italian whites. Solid structure, well balanced and very dry. My dining companion found it a bit too dry and a touch “gasoline-y”, but I think they too were expecting something fruitier. It has an odd flavour profile, not at all unpleasant but not your typical summertime, easy-drinking white. Personally, I liked it but it’s perhaps not for everyone.

La Tunella Rjgialla

Enjoy...

A friend was visiting from out of town a few weeks ago. Upon arrival she plunked 2 handsome traditional-method sparkling wines on the counter for me. “You’ll love these”, she said as she wheeled her suitcase inside. Nothing more was said. I mention this because as I stare at my wine shelf (I have no cellar, for shame!) I observe a row of wines that, although were given to me, I feel I can’t drink. At least not without the people who gave them to me.

I’m sure you’ve experienced this juxtaposition: Someone gives you an outstanding bottle as a gift, with the caveat, “let’s open this some time together“. (Read: “don’t you dare drink this without me”) Now, I happen to be very fond of the people who’ve bestowed these wines on me and would be completely willing to share with them without even being asked… but, it feels less like a gift when the giver tells you what you’re allowed to/not do with it. It’s like your Gran handing you a fiver when you were a kid and saying, “now don’t go spending this on junk!”.

I fully appreciate the torture of parting with a good bottle and wanting very badly to enjoy some of that gorgeousness so generously being given away, but should you find yourself in this conflicted position, I offer some advice: Bring it to dinner instead. Or, invite the person over and open it together. If you must hand it over as an official pressie… do so condition-free.

Sharesies! (Credit: Posters Guide)

As it happens, I opened one of those sparkling lovelies with said friend over dinner one night. The other one I took to a Sunday night kitchen party – where I was called a ponce (more or less) for bringing champers to a kitchen party… but the point is, I enjoyed it very much – in my own time and in my own way. I even shared it with other people.

Credit: Food & Wine

An interesting discussion unfolded on Twitter a few nights ago on the topic of vintage discrepancies on restaurant wine lists. It started with the tweet:

A host of replies followed. Most people felt the restaurant should compensate the guest based on the argument: it’s not what was ordered. But a few sided with the restaurant and suggested that if vintage was so important to the customer, and the bottle was presented properly, it should have been checked upfront – i.e. they accepted it,  their problem. Somewhere down the middle line was the opinion that whether or not to compensate really depends on the wine, the price, and how vintage-variant the wine is.

The wine in this case was a Châteauneuf-du-Pape. High profile wine, expensive and fairly vintage-sensitive. The vintage discrepancy was a 2005 (generally accepted to be a good year)  and a 2008 (a not so good year). The former was listed on the menu, the latter was presented at the table. Midway through the bottle the guests discovered the error and brought it to the attention of their server. The group was mildly annoyed but content enough to keep drinking, no big fuss was made but there were intimations that something should be done (this is mild-mannered, non-confrontational Atlantic Canada, after all!)

Credit: Under The Grape Tree

Most restaurants interested in providing any level of customer service would do something. But what is appropriate? What is fair?

It is not uncommon for suppliers to deliver the wrong vintage to restaurants, and in most cases the price the restaurant pays does not change (except perhaps for premium/revered vintages). In this case the restaurant paid the same price for the 2008 as it did for the 2005 even though an ’08 Châteauneuf can retail for about 15% less than earlier (better) vintages.

Market prices aside, as far as the restaurant was concerned, the menu price was fair – it reflected their cost (they did not pay less for the 2008). But they did accept ownership of the menu error on the basis that perhaps the guest would not have ordered the Châteauneuf had it been listed as 2008, and they were keen to tidy up any bad feelings at the table. The restaurant decided to take 25% off the bottle price. Most members of the group seemed happy with this, but one contested: ” it’s still not what we ordered”. Remember, they were happy to keep drinking it.

It is an interesting discussion. Being in the industry myself and a regular diner-outer, I am frequently at both ends of table. If you take the pedantic viewpoint, there is responsibility on both sides: the customer to check that they’re receiving what they ordered, and the restaurant to dutifully keep on top of their cellar management (and by extension, their menu updates). But at the end of the day it is really about customer service, isn’t it? In my view, an unhappy customer has the potential to be much more costly than any “comp”, so if they are displeased, they mustn’t leave that way.

Blomidon Estate Winery Rosé

When it comes to Rosé, I am a bit selective. For me, the ideal template is undoubtedly Provençal: delicate, fruity, herbal. Insipid, sour, candy-like versions are unbearable, even with food (unless in a salad dressing). Unfortunately, Provence Rosé is hard to come by here in Nova Scotia, but wines sharing its profile can still be found if you take the time to look. Interestingly, one such findings is a local creation.

Blomidon Estate Winery recently released their 2010 Rosé – a blend of L’Acadie Blanc, Baco Noir and NY Muscat (a splash more Muscat than last year, I’m told). The colour is a healthy, coral pink with an entirely pleasant nose of strawberry, soft herbacious notes, rose petal and underlying lychee and blossom. The palate is lean, off-dry with lively fruit, bracing acidity and good backing minerality. The acid here is probably a bit more pronounced than that of a Provence rosé, but it’s still balanced and makes for an excellent food wine. Local seafood dishes simply prepared are a natural match. Mine, I had over a starter of local smoked salmon and fluffy creamy chevre on toasted baguette – it worked really well and started off the evening beautifully. Which is another good thing about rosé… by waking up the palate (rather than tiring it) it’s an excellent starting point for a wine-filled evening, if that’s on the cards.

So, a month or so ago I gave a class presentation on the Cellared in Canada controversy. Afterwards, it was clear that few people had heard of the topic, let alone understood it. So, I thought a blog post was in order.

Credit: vinquebec

According to Wikipedia, Cellared in Canada is a term used to designate Canadian wine produced with varying quantities of Canadian and foreign bulk wine.

These varying quantities of foreign bulk wine (grapes, concentrates, juices) can be anywhere from up to 70% foreign-sourced content (in Ontario) to 100% (in BC). These wines are free to carry a label which states (more, or less) “Cellared in Canada from Imported and Domestic Wines”.

You may be starting to get a sense of what the fuss is all about.

The controversy is essentially two-pronged: one argument centers around language and labeling; the second around the winemaking  practice itself. In a nutshell, the general criticisms are as follows:

1. It misleads the consumer (wording, shelving/store-placement)

The argument here is that “Cellared in Canada” (CIC)  is intentionally misleading to consumers by implying that the wine – made largely or entirely with blends of imported wines – is Canadian. To add to the befuddlement, these wines are often placed in the Canadian section of liquor stores. Few attempts are made to educate the consumer by revealing where its imported content really comes from.

Most of this strife comes from within the industry – growers, winemakers, critics, writers etc.  Many consumers (the ones we’re so worried about) are not even aware of CIC’s existence – never mind what it means. A recent Wine Intelligence Poll revealed that  only 36% of Canadian wine drinkers were actually aware of the term, and only half of these people could correctly state its meaning. Once informed, however, over half thought the term was inappropriate and most of them wanted to see country of origin and percentage on the label at least.

2. It misrepresents and/or damages reputation of Canadian wine

Canada is capable of making top drawer wine. We’ve known this at home for some time and are finally gaining some merit and recognition world wide.  Most agree that a wine created in Canada from foreign content is not a true expression of  Canadian wine. But some feel CIC reflects poorly on the Canadian wine industry as a whole.

Jancis Robinson Credit: gangofpour

One prominent voice on this front is Jancis Robinson. Jancis can probably also be credited with unleashing the CIC debate on a grand scale. It was on a visit to Okanogan back in the Summer of ’09 where she learned of the practice. Disappointed with what she saw – and even more so the following Spring when she tasted, and rather liked, some of the best VQA Chardonnays at a tasting at Canada House in London – she called CIC “a disservice to real Canadian wine”. Many industry experts agreed with her and still do.

The supporters of CIC,  however, say that the practice is necessary. 100% Canadian Wine is expensive and nearly impossible to compete at lower price points (i.e. the sub $10 category) without incorporating cheaper foreign wine.  They also maintain that buying foreign juice supports a “growing wine industry” by supplementing small grape harvest years and stretching crops to produce more wine. Which leads to better financial security for the wineries and supports them through low-crop years.

Beyond these criticisms there are other problems, too. The program is currently monitored by the Canadian Standards Board – a voluntary standards association, rather than a federal regulatory body, with no force of law behind it. Most agree that this type of regulation is too loose and that CIC would benefit with stricter controls and governance.

There is also the issue of unfair competition. Smaller and medium-sized Canadian wine producers making wine from 100% Canadian grapes are unable to compete at the price points offered by big wineries (and it is the big wineries) bottling CIC wines.

Copper Moon Credit: bcliquorstores

The debate, though still considered important, has cooled somewhat in recent months and governments and big wineries are doing little to clarify the issues raised. Tighter regulation is still just a notion, but there has been some movement within the Wine Law/Canadian Food Inspection Agency recently around label transparency. Specifically, a proposal requesting that the source of foreign content be indicated: E.g.

“Made in Canada from [country or countries] grapes (or juices)” or “Blended in Canada from [country or countries] wines”

The bigger question of whether we should we be making CIC wines at all still looms. But personally, I think that’s more of a purist’s battle and not a huge worry of mine.  Cheaper, knockoff versions of the real thing plague nearly every industry. There is a market for them, just as there is for the authentic product. The consumer decides which product they want to buy. The problems arise when the consumer is unable to make an informed decision about that product, or worse, they are duped.

So, the first step, I believe is to tackle transparency. Remove the tricky “Cellared In Canada” wording, clarify origin on labels and display these products accordingly on shop shelves. This would at least educate consumers so that they’re able to make an informed purchase.

I keep a wine journal. A paper one. Much to the annoyance of family & friends I am rarely without one. I’ve filled several with tasting notes, labels and dribble marks of wines consumed over the last few years. Perhaps not surprisingly, this obsession has resulted in another fixation: optimum wine journal format.

Incredibly, the perfect wine journal is an elusive creature. One might think that with wine being around since 5000 BC, or thereabouts, wine journal design must be perfected by now… but no. Silly, impractical wine journal designs abound making shopping for a new one enough to drive a person to drink (and with no place to put one’s notes!)

Here are my thoughts on good wine journal construction:

1. Size. The size of the journal should be small enough for portability, but large enough to fit all your thoughts and scraps (e.g. labels). Think: book/novel sized. Teeny ones will fit in your purse/man-bag but so maddening to write in (and read from) that you will probably not use them.

2. Cover. The cover should ideally be made of some kind of wipe-able, durable material. Wipe-able, so that it stands up to spills and durable so that it stands up to transport and frequent access.

3. Layout. Simple is best – with the following considerations included:

a) Label pages. Ideally the journal contains pages for labels, positioned opposite the notes page so notes & label are viewable side-by-side. I think labels are an important aspect of note-taking and provide a visual cue for remembering wines better than the name alone. They’re also helpful (& more interesting) to others leafing through your journals while you’re cooking dinner.

Example of wine journal without dedicated label page - I just stuck the label in there anyway.

b) Notes pages. Ideally the notes page should contain 6 fields: Name (at the top), Date, Varietal, Region, Vintage & Price (I usually write where I bought it here, too) with a spacious, free-form area for Tasting Notes. Anything beyond this is just extra noise and limits what you can write where. Numbered rating systems – unless you have a strict criteria upon which you consistently rate wines – are arbitrary and unreliable. Separate compartments for appearance/nose/palate/finish/food pairing etc. are unnecessary and constrict use of space.

c) Dividers. Initially, I was undecided, but lately I’ve been warming to the idea of dividers, or tabs to organise journal content into sections – e.g. Red, White, Fortified, etc. This is primarily for retrieval purposes (as anyone familiar with the pain of hunting for a specific wine in a 200-pg wine journal can relate to). Fixed dividers are inflexible since they dictate a set number of pages per category (they also define the category for you) but using a 3-ring binder-style journal with generic tabs solves this problem.

An example of an easy, loose format with lots of room for notes, and a label on opposite page.

You can, of course go digital, and disregard all of this luddite mumbo-jumbo

Saint John, New Brunswick

Last week I spent a few days milling around Saint John, New Brunswick. My purpose was wine work – serving it, to be exact – and of course, drinking some too.

It’s been some years since I’ve professionally served anything to anyone (I won’t say how long exactly, but let’s just say Grunge was very big at the time). And the term “professionally” is probably a bit of a stretch as my serving duties mostly involved balancing beer pitchers on a tray and yanking drunk girls down off tables. So, I arranged with Peter Smit, owner of happinez wine bar, a few “refresher” shifts at his hugely popular haunt.

Some happinez wines

On the first day Peter and his staff showed me the ropes and patiently walked me through all of their inner workings – then set me loose. I was surprisingly nervous serving the first guests. I’d forgotten what it was like to wait on people how to do it properly (at one point I absent-mindedly collected some empty glasses by their rims which resulted in a finger-wave from Peter, “No. Always the stem”). Peter has decades of hospitality experience, training in Europe with the best of Hilton International and finishing as Director of food and beverage at the Drake Hotel in Chicago at a time when service levels were unparalleled. He also taught Hospitality and Tourism at the NBCC and carries through this top committment to service at happinez.

The wines at happinez are carefully and personally chosen by Peter and changed regularly. Open bottles are preserved with the Le Verre de Vin system following each pour. I liked the system – it was easy to use, fast and performed well (we tasted the opened wines each day to ensure there was no drop in quality). Glasses are all washed by hand (via the Bar Maid, triple-sink system), hand-polished and inspected under the light for spots (a strict procedure established by Peter who dislikes the noise of dishwashers and the residual odours they leave on glassware). Keeping on top of the ‘dirties’ was challenging, but an automatic dishwasher probably wouldn’t have helped much since the stemware still need polishing. This way, it is only slightly slower and appears to result in less breakage.

The environment at happinez is intentionally relaxed, and pressure-free. Guests are allowed to linger as long as they wish and are not nudged to buy more (“can I get you another?” is a no-no) nor are they pushed to pay-up. A friendly honours-based system governs tabs -  no credit cards. The guest’s name is hand-written on a notepad along with their order and when they’re ready to pay they come up to the bar to do so. This practice, of course, relies heavily on the honesty of both staff and patron, but I’m told that in nearly 5 years of operating no one has ever run out on the bill (that hasn’t come back the next day to pay).

happinez goers

All ages darkened the doorway (and the funky Hapito patio), from students to retirees to all generations in between. Most came for the wines by-the-glass (12 red, 12 whites) and custom tasting-flights. Local and organic charcuterie and cheese plates were gobbled up in numbers, too – goodies such as Barbizon and Tomme Blanche cheeses from Fromagerie Au Fond des Bois and Saucisse, Jambon and Paté from La Ferme du Diamant.

Most notably, and indeed, most importantly, everyone seems to love this wine bar which made working there a very pleasant experience.

2007 M. Chapoutier Domaine de Bila-Haut Occultum Lapidem

But it wasn’t all work! Peter was kind enough to share a few wines from his cellar. The 2007 M. Chapoutier Domaine de Bila-Haut Occultum Lapidem, a Syrah, Grenache, Carignan blend from the Rousillon, was particularly nice. An intense, dark violet colour extending to the edge, and a lively complex nose of dark fruit, floral, liquorice and barnyard. In the mouth, full and round with prominent tannins that softened the longer it sat. Wonderfully balanced.

Viognier tasting

I also went out to Rothesay to visit friends Craig and Christine to lust over their gorgeous property and help them taste some Viognier (nine, to be exact). Comparing our notes revealed the three of us had common favourites – one being the 2008 Mission Hill Viognier from the Osoyoos Vineyard Estate in British Columbia’s Okanogan Valley. A pale golden colour with a brown/green tinge. Apples, mild apricot, blossom and a touch of lime citrus on the nose. Medium-bodied, good mouthfeel, slightly pettilant with great acid, and bright lime flavours. Loved it!

Viognier Lineup

All in all, a great wine experience in Saint John. I hope to return very soon.

2005 Callabriga Dão Red

Callabriga is one of many brands produced by SoGrape Vinhos with the Dão Red being one of about twenty in the range spanning the regions of Altentejo, Dão and Douro. (Yep, they’re a large producer). At $28* it’s a bit pricey for everyday drinking but a wine worth checking out just the same.

Made with Tinta Roriz, Touriga Nacional and Alfrocheiro Preto grapes the colour is extremely dark, inky, almost black. A perfumey/smoky nose with pepper, blueberry, chocolate and earth.  Medium-full bodied, balanced and velvety smooth. I’ve not had a wine this easy to drink in a while. But possibly – just possibly – it was too smooth… (is there such a thing?) Comes down to personal preference, I suppose. Sometimes a bit of an edge is nice, too.

Morris East (Credit: nsca on Flickr)

Now, a proper foodie would’ve snapped some pics of the delectable Charcuterie plate we shared, or captured at least one of the fine pizzas we filled our bellies with: Pepperoni & spicy banana peppers; Puttanesca, fresh basil & goat’s cheese; Housemade sausage with bacon, onion, pineapple & mozzarella … but I’m not a proper foodie (see note re disorganisation above).

I did get a picture of the wines though. (Albeit these were taken a few days later, after having gone back to the shop to re-buy the wines specifically for this photo, but what matters is that we have visual!)

Perrin & Fils Vacqueyras and Catena Malbec

The Perrin & Fils “Les Cristins” Vacqueyras was the favourite and only slightly shy of being too heavy for the pizzas. Someone described this wine as “racy” and I think that’s perfect. Deep, opaque, inky/black/purple colour with a little sediment. Notes of black cherry, black currant, leather, smoke, liquorice. Full-bodied, dense mouthfeel, slightly firm tannins (little young?), touch of bitterness and more black fruit. $29 at Port of Wines.

The Catena Malbec was a very close second. Rich burgundy colour, opaque. Intensely fruity nose, with cinnamon, raisin, mocha and clove. On the palate the fruit was big and powerful, but well-balanced with just enough acidity, softer tannins and slightly looser/mellower structure than the Vacqueyras. $24 at Port of Wines – great value.

BYOW is a great little program, especially if you dine out often. It’s an easy way to branch out and try different wines, and you save a little (or a lot) on the bill.

A hat-tip to the friendly BYOW table service at Morris East.