This post was written while I was on the road – Day 2 – in Spain two weeks ago.

Now, where was I? Ah, yes… Leaving the car in its ‘hiding place’ and deciding to walk all of 5 minutes from my hotel to my hosts at Clos Figueres earlier this morning, I am happy to be in a quiet town where the only obstacles in my path are not even dog poop (Barcelona), but mama gatos protecting their kittens as I, an unexpected intruder, walk past. I guess on the directionals, hoping my inner compass will guide me to my destination. Luckily, it does.

At Clos Figueres I find Jaume, winemaker extraordinare, who has been at the winery for three years. We speak largely in Espanol, me understanding mucho, pero hablando muy mal. I learn that they use three different fermentation vats – stainless, fiberglass, and barrels. Each has their call of duty, depending whether the intended wine is for a more approachable, fruit forward offering that lends an ‘introduction’ to consumers, or the more complex wines for which the Priorat is famous.

I had hoped to video tape my time at Clos Figueres with the young expert winemaker/Master Sommelier Jaume, and Miguel, the wine manager. But our conversation was largely in animated spanglish; they both nodded enthusiastically at my very rusty Spanish and, thankfully, my Spanish training meant I could understand nearly all of what they were communicating. Was I romanced? Absolutely. Am I always romanced by the Priorat? No. It is historically a region that I quite love, but my love/hate price-point/value rationalism keeps things real.

Clos Figueres, like many of their elite neighbors, produces wine meant to age. Of course, they produce a wine that is more ‘accessible’ or fruit forward, knowing that many do not have the patience or wallet size these wines demand. They also produce a gorgeous white blend (Font de la Figueres) that is largely Viognier – a varietal that was mistakenly sent to proprietor Christopher Cannan when he set up shop in 1997; fortunately, the Priorat proved an interesting and worthwhile testing ground. I’m sipping the 2009’s worthwhileness while I write (my hosts were too kind in allowing me to take a couple of bottles with me to enjoy at my hotel later, to see how they would open, or evolve with a bit of oxygen in their ‘lungs’).

For the sake of argument, I just re-poured the second offering: the 2006 Clos Figueres red. It was a gem, arguably in its prime, even freshly uncorked this morning; now its anticipated chewy black plum and black raspberry (fraboise) fruit, with an edge of strawberry leaf, forest floor (sabroso…), dried herbs, bittersweet chocolate and black pepper spice flourish even more. Yet, I know it will continue to open and deliver even more.

Jaume used his pepito (plastic theif) to “steal” a bit of wine from each of the 2010 barrels enjoying their siesta (pre-aging/bottling) in barrels below the alfresco tasting porch so I could taste them each au natural. What an experience! This is the sort of opportunity that drives home the essence of varietal expression. Grenache is uniquely Grenache, with natural variation depending on the vineyard site; but at the end of the day, a Granny Smith apple is too tart to be called Macintosh just like Grenache is too red-berry fruited to be called Mouvedre, a more smoked meat, gamey, blueberry/redberry fruit flavored varietal. How varietals work together is what makes a particular Clos stand out in their efforts (aka when to pick, in what vessel one should ferment each varietal, and later, what balance of grapes will comprise the final wine).

Clos Figueres delivers an authentic expression of the Priorat. Their reds are structured but elegant, chewy but savory, juicy but teeth-sinking. If you can get your hands on a 2006 (or have one in your cellar) this is the time to uncork!

Now that it’s February and I’ve done a decent job of depleting my in house wine collection, I’m back to buying them. And for whatever reason I can’t quite explain, the last few weeks I’ve found myself bringing home more and more Italian red wines. While there are certainly many ‘giving’ Italian reds made (“giving” meaning they need very little time to open up as they are fruit forward and generally just kind of easy going) I realized I’ve inadvertently fallen prey to the over-simplified idea that all Italian red wines go best with pasta, hard cheese or red meats – three categories that I just don’t consume through the normal course of things (allergies are to blame!).

This perception is certainly perfectly accurate in its own right. Just as there are giving Italian reds, there are others that are less giving. These are much bigger, structured wines that really are most delightful when they are given ample time to open up (let the tannins soften, the fruit integrate with all the other lovely herbal and terciary flavors, etc.) AND when they have a hearty food match to work in tandem with the structure and flavor of the wine. Patience and some forethought about what’s for dinner go a long, long way. A decanter never hurts either.

God love them, this month vendors in our network have been bringing both hidden gems and well-regarded, more elite styles of Italian reds by the Tasting Station for us to suss out. One of my new loves? Schiava.

I’m sure I’ve chatted about Elena Walch in prior posts as she’s one of the most highly regarded female winemakers in the world. Her wines hail from the northern Alto Adige region of Italy. I have yet to taste one that isn’t well made and delicious. Leave it to her to make and export a grape (Schiava) that almost never leaves the country! Her 2009 bottling of this grape (said Ski-ah-vah) is the only one I’ve ever tasted; it immediately won me over. My first tasting notes read: “wow! This is a red Burgundy wine lovers delight with an almost Pinot Noir-like levity and texture and a nice focus of ripe cherry and black fruit (boysenberry, blackberry). Love the feminity, florals and subtle Italian nuance.”

It’s fun to get away from the same old same and enjoy something somehow familiar but new, isn’t it? And this one can pair with myriad things, from pork tenderloin topped with cranberry sauce or a mustard vinaigrette, roasted or fire-grilled eggplant and mushrooms with a balsamic glaze, even to tuna steak with a side of garlic roasted red potatoes. Manja!

In my last post I mentioned that sometimes I ‘gift’ myself wine. Over Thanksgiving last year, this was one such occasion; I traveled for the holiday and knew I’d be spending time with a larger group with varying wine tastes and so I brought crowd-friendly wines I thought they would enjoy. For myself, I tucked away one of my favorite wines, the 2006 Kurt Angerer Pinot Noir, and anticipated opening it around the holiday with another friend who is just as enthused about it as I.

Suffice to say, life got in the way and Kurt hung out in my wine fridge a little longer than I anticipated – I just pulled the cork last weekend.

This wine hails from the Kamptal region of Austria – a region that is challenged to produce exceptional red wines in any given year because the climate is so demanding. Vintage really matters. I’ve been sipping on Angerer’s 2006 Pinot Noir for more than a year now and have enjoyed it all the while; but today I think it is tasting exceptionally well (though sadly, I fear not only that there may be no more left in the market but also that he did not produce another Pinot in 2007). This is a wine that is enjoyable out of the gates but truly benefits from decanting.  I took a quick taste upon opening it and then after three hours, I enthusiastically grabbed my glass and put my nose back to task.

The wine is so “pretty” I just kept breathing it in: roses, lavender and violets linger over fruit buoyed by aromas of smoked meats. These elements translate to the palate seamlessly, with a hint of mushroom and leather playing a note or two in addition. Its intense core of fruit really fleshes out when given time to aerate, delivering crushed cranberry and a whisper of dried cranberry fruit flavors, plus black raspberries and mascerated cherries, and a blink of tart, earthy rhubarb. Fine black pepper spice and a thread of savory charcuterie really come through on the long finish. An unfiltered wine, the texture is silky with oh-so fine tannins; the slight drying note makes the wine a better companion to food perhaps, but I find it did not at all detract from my enjoyment after the chicken marsala was long gone!

Yum.

Another wine I fell in love with all over again last summer was the Schoffit Chasselas, this time the 2008 vintage. Chasselas is a little known varietal grown from New Zealand to France, Switzerland, Germany and even due West as far as Portugal. Truth be told, I’ve only ever tasted Schoffit’s attempt, an example from Alsace, France to be precise. Finally back in stock after nearly a year, I hurried to bring home the latest vintage at the tail end of last summer. I remembered the previous vintage offering a large helping of mouthfilling fruit – pears and melon and bananas, oh my! It also had a distinct minerality to it, which endowed a cleansing lift that seemed to cut through the seeming “fat” of the ripe fruit flavors.

The 2008 vintage was even more exciting – more ripe and nuanced – so much so that I’ve been saving our discussion about it until we were fully in throws of October. Why? First, the aromas of  citrus blossoms, orange rind and even coriander lifted from the bowl of my glass as soon as I poured the Schoffit; rich, mouth-coating flavors of ripe banana and tangerine thrilled my tongue. These are smells and flavors I most often associate with the German wheat (weiss) beers I love so much. I find them enthralling for their texture and distinctness in the world. They give me a break from wine – but no less something to think about as I breathe in and then savor each sip. My second reason is that October brings more crisp fall days than hints of summer. The smell of leaves fills the air. I look forward to warming meals and fleshy, richer wines. The Schoffit Chasselas is precisely the kind of white I get super excited about.

So if you have a serious beer drinker in your life, or are one yourself, consider grabbing a bottle of this low-allocation, hard to find white, and dish up a plate of butternut or pumpkin squash risotto! You’ll be thanking your lucky stars you did.

Are you familiar with Chasselas? Which German wheat beer is your Oktoberfest pick?

It seems like summertime is also a time when you’re more likely to escape to the beach, or go camping. Or maybe you have the great opportunity to be the ‘destination location’ of your friends. Either way, it seems like your more likely to be going through a few bottles on a given night, rather than just the one – or more likely to be drinking more in general, night after night on your vacation, for example. So having a few delicious but affordable wines in your repertoire is kind of a necessity.

Note: Cheap wine does not necessarily mean BAD wine. On the contrary, savvy wine shop’s have a collection of wines they work even harder to find in the affordable price range. Because they won’t compromise quality for price.

This summer there were two wines, roses no less, that came with me on vacation pretty regularly. Both were late-comers to Ball Square Fine Wine’s rose collection. The first of the two, Les Trois Chenes, is a project of Chateau Moutete and is a crazy blend of Cinsault, Ugni blanc, Syrah, Merlot, Mourvèdre and even Rolle, for good measure. The result? A wine with surprising levity, authenticity (great minerality) and under-handed (in a good way) fruit. Possibly a perfect example of Provincial rose. For $8.99 especially, this was a no-brainer.

The second of the two is a curious wine from the Vinho Verde region of Portugal. No joke. And no surprise, it has a little bit of spritz. A regular cork screw will do it. But those little bubbles go a long way to delight your taste buds on a hot day. (I mean, come on, why else do people put tonic water or club soda in their cocktails? Subtle bubbles rock.) This wine, Adegas de Moncao Murhalas rose, is made from Porguese varietals Alvarelhao, Pedral, and Vinhao, the last of which is a fleshy red grape. Almost sweet red berries and watermelon flavors are lifted by brisk acidity and that little bit of spritz I keep going on about. It’s fruit-forward sweetness made it great with spicy foods, too – or as desert itself after a big meal.

Suffice to say: happiness! I’m drinking them still while supplies last.

Which under $9 bottles captured your enthusiasm last summer?