Marglin on Taste

Whether it’s Thanksgiving or Chanukah or Christmas or any other celebration during late fall and early winter, when you are a guest at someone else’s feast, you can never go wrong bringing a bottle or two of wine. Thanksgiving, for example, is about the bounty of the land, and wine speaks to that sentiment like no other beverage. Great wines are truly of the earth.Conventional wisdom from wine columnists (including Frank Prial of the New York Times) has Thanksgiving diners drinking either “correct” wines, whose flavors will marry well with the turkey and the sides, or domestic wines like zinfandel, on the theory that we are celebrating America. But the holidays are also about a celebration of the new (and the unknown), and that weighs in favor of openness to other choices.

This is a time to turn people on to your taste in wine. You get a shot at telling your folks or your host, “Here are wines I like, wines that I would like to share with you.” Don’t forget, parties are all about the meal, and by now you know that with the occasional exception of some breakfasts, all great meals are improved by the accompaniment of wine. The holiday season is so focused on eating and drinking that you may need to bring more than one bottle to go around the table.

When you’re picking a wine for Thanksgiving, I don’t think you should concentrate on the turkey. The meat is so bland that wine usually overwhelms its taste (unless your bird is wild or free-range). So the name of the game is pairing the wine with the sides. If you can find out what sides will be served, you’re two steps ahead. Otherwise, educated guesses should suffice. Most meats will come with some gravy, which will be salty and a bit nutty. There are going to be yams and turnips and other mashed tubers; around these parts, there is going to be something cranberry; and probably also some greens. The way you win is by zeroing in on the dishes your wine will combine with.

For the other holidays, go in with your guns (or muskets) blazing. Bring big wines if that is your bent — something fruity, something fun. Subtle wines will have a harder time cutting through the noise, but you have to express yourself. Big Italian numbers put points on the board these days. Rather than Chiantis, try the Valpolicellas and other Veronese wines; or Piedmontese barberas, particularly the barbed Barbera D’Asti; or, if you can afford them, those big Brunello di Montalcinos (1995 was a fabulous sleeper year for brunellos — they’re really approachable right now). These powerhouses, with their grapey and earthy flavors and less predominant oak, make nice counterpoints to holiday meals.

Or pay homage to this year’s Olympics and rock your host’s world with an Aussie shiraz or Semillon. For the less daring, a fruity 1998 Oregon pinot noir should treat game birds (like turkey and goose) fairly well; it also accompanies salmon delightfully, and there are plenty of affordable ones out there; try the Bridgeview and the Benton Lane, or the Willakenzie and the Willamette Valley Vineyards.

Most tables always have room for a few more bottles. Folks are there to eat and drink. You have, to say the least, a captive audience. Pour it out, and then pour it on. If your fellow diners lean toward the whites, blow their minds with an Italian pinot bianco or an Oregon pinot gris. Zing them with a zesty chenin blanc (such as French Vouvray or South African Steen). If your heart is set on reds, go for grenache or shiraz, or a fruitier pinot noir. Make it sexy. Stay clear of merlots and cabs — those are so obvious. Give them as gifts, because they are safe. But take chances with what you bring over for the holidays — plenty of safe stuff will be served anyway (hey, at least you’re going to like what’s in your glass).

The key word this whole season is “giving.” This is your chance to help create the moment and make the festivities. You may not have shot the turkey or goose, or spent all day stuffing it. But when game time rolls around, you’ll be right there, ready to take the field, bottle in hand, saying, “Try a little of this, why don’t you?” as you pour out your holiday cheer.

Here are a few bottles I will be bringing to various parties over the next few weeks:

Cantina Produttori Pinot Bianco Schulthauser Alto Adige San Michele ($11.99). Very vibrant. Pretty much blows away any US efforts at pinot blanc, and is an excellent exemplar of the swank Italian wines from the Alps region to the north. It’s kicking with the roast birds, the chestnut stuffing, and the whole shootin’ match.

1998 Willamette Valley Vineyards Pinot Gris ($13.99). Not as good as my personal favorite pinot gris from Willakenzie Estate, but a couple of bucks cheaper. Full and fruity, sprightly and zesty, with apples and dashes of honey on the finish. Great with the squashes and pumpkins, the cranberries, or the greens.

1997 Palazzo Della Torre Allegrini Veronese ($17.99). Full and chewy, really Valpolicella. I quaffed this watching the Yankees decimate the Mets in game five (Torre in the house!). It’s hefty, with great fruit and a big bite. This is an enforcer, with a lovely velvet-glove finish.

1998 Elk Cove Vineyards Pinot Noir Willamette Valley ($20). Cherry and cola, really gushy. A word to the wise: 1998 Oregon pinots rock!!

1997 Sassoalloro Jacopo Biodi Santi Montalcino (about $27). A poor man’s brunello, this is a superb sangiovese, very robust, with loads of wood, and good fruit up front. Kicks up all sorts of cedar nuances, and then some dried cherries. Great with cranberries and heavy gravies.

1998 J.L. Chave Offerus Saint-Joseph ($29.99). Steep southern Rhône, hard to find (Wine and Cheese Cask may have a bottle or two left). This is smooth wine, pruny and warm, with some paprika kick; but it’s also opulent, if a touch pointy. With plenty of deep black fruit and chunky oak, it will work across the board for the bold and the pioneering.

Every now and then, everything comes together for a winemaking region, and it can declare (or at least have wine writers declare) that it has produced the “vintage of the century.” It happened for Long Island in 1997 (granted, its “century” started in the 1970s) and it happened for France’s southern Rhône in 1998. So why has it taken two years to notice? As you may know, most wine is meant to be consumed instantly, but big Rhône wines usually need at least three to four years of bottle aging before they open up: the stellar ’98s are just becoming drinkable now.

Wines have been made in the Rhône Valley for two millennia, but for many years they had little prestige. No mention of them survives from the Middle Ages, and even when the pope moved to the Rhône city of Avignon during the Renaissance, not much was written about the region’s fabulous wines (although the popes liked them, and their palace gave rise to the Châteauneuf-du-Pape appellation). From the 14th to the 16th centuries, Rhône wines were unavailable in Paris or England, where upper-class tastes were formed, because the duchy of Burgundy, fearing competition, barred their transit by river through the Burgundian lands.

By the 18th and 19th centuries, Rhône wines were the toast of Paris, so to speak: sometime Parisian Thomas Jefferson was a fan. But they wouldn’t become popular on these shores until almost 100 years later when, in the 1980s, they were hailed by critics and writers — including, bien sur, Robert Parker. Parker did not create the Rhône revival single-handedly, but his considerable weight went far to focus serious wine collectors’ attention on these often overlooked wines. And where the big money goes, smaller money is soon to follow.

And now Rhônes — southern Rhônes in particular — are in vogue again, thanks to 1998. Southern Rhônes are almost always a big mélange of grapes, mainly grenache and mourvèdre (originally of Spanish origin), as well as syrah, carignane, cinsault, and others. They tend to be less spicy and more fruity and jammy than their northern Rhône counterparts. They also tend to be less oaky, since use of new oak is frowned upon in the southern Rhône. This makes them approachable when young, but unless they are properly acidic, the fruit can quickly get out of whack (or it can taste cooked).

Three main factors determine whether a vintage is going to be the best of 100 years or just one of the less-celebrated 99: weather, timing, and, of course, press.

In 1998, the weather in southern France was stellar for grapes. There was a late frost in mid-April, which diminished yields significantly. Then the summer was unusually hot and dry — although not too hot and dry — which stressed the vines, producing better fruit. The beginning of September featured the perfect amount of rain — enough to ripen the grapes and fill out the fruit, not enough to bloat them and thin the flavors). Then harvest conditions were dry and perfect.

The 1998 southern Rhônes also benefited from good timing. When great years stack up, the later years are harder to sell, since the marketers want to push what’s ready. But when the pent-up demand caused by a dearth of great years combines with dramatically improved winemaking techniques, you can move a lot of wine. This happened in the Rhône Valley. It had two great years in 1989 and 1990, and then a span of mediocre ones. During that time, winemaking techniques vastly improved. The growers stopped going all out for big yields, and instead started trying to provide the best fruit possible. The resulting wines taste smoother and more balanced.

Finally, thanks to the great press garnered by the 1989 and 1990 vintages, the world has awakened to the keen pleasures of these wines. Knowledgeable consumers demand a better product, but they also want the confidence that they are drinking what folks in the wine industry like. Writers, retailers, and sommeliers help create demand via a trickle-down effect.

For all these reasons, chances are that if you walk into a decent wine store and walk out with a 1998 southern Rhône, you’re going to have a pretty good bottle in your hands. In all the wines I tried, you taste the earth. They offer interesting flavors; they are for the most part well-made; they offer a just-right balance of acid and fruit; and they have the hallmarks of wines that will age well. Like the current Yankees, these potential dynasty wines can’t miss.

Here are a range of ‘98 southern Rhônes for your consuming pleasure:

1998 Paul Jaboulet Aîné Parallèle “45″ Côtes du Rhône ($8.99). This is a baseline standard: a super-fruity bomb, well composed, and poised. It wins with your roast meats (where southern Rhônes really meet the road). This will unfurl in your glass.

1998 La Font d’Estévenas Cairanne Côtes du Rhône Villages ($9.99). An advanced-class wine, quite complex. A powerhouse for the price, and a warrior — not for the meek. Cheeky, funky, plenty of punch, with licorice on the nose followed by gobs of pepper, spice, and stewed fruits. Great with big beef or spicy curries. Will benefit from age.

1998 Domaine de Montvac Vacqueyras ($11.99). Fab and fruity, full of affect, but so “on” for the price that you will forgive its excesses. Very tasty with a spicy chicken sandwich or cajun catfish.

1998 Le Clos du Caillou Bouquet des Garrigues Côtes du Rhône (about $15). Very tasty, bold, rich, and fruity. It has fleshy plum, hints of currants, dashes of leather, and an edge of pine. Like most southern Rhônes, this is unfiltered, and packs the usual fruit wallop. Goes with sharp cheese, paella, or spicy sausage.

1998 Domaine des Relagnes Châteauneuf-du-Pape ($23.99). Juicy and enticing, like a siren singing from the rim of your glass. Some may find it a bit too ripe. This is for your T-bone and your roasts, such as turkey, chicken, or anything smoky — even, dare I say, barbecued ribs.

1998 Domaine de Cassan Gigondas ($24.99). Expensive, but worth the cake. It’s 70 percent grenache, but a quarter syrah and a dash of mourvèdre put a lot of meat on its ample bones. Great fruit makes it another excellent companion for your spicy ribs or cajun chicken.