I never really thought there was such a thing as a “perfect” wine. Sure, there are different ‘categories’ of wine consumption, from the nature/scale of an event in terms of fanciness, food (or not) involved, etc. to that 1 magical bottle that lives forever in your mind. But last weekend I truly think I happened upon a white wine that is a realistic kind of perfect – for any occasion, any time of year, with any group of friends, with food or without.

Casale del Giglio’s 2009 “Satrico” hails from Lazio, Italy. It is an expertly crafted white blend of equal parts Chardonnay (roundness, soft edges, fleshiness – plus light honeydew melon), Sauvignon Blanc (zip and lift at the hand of terrific citrus fruit flavors and light grassy notes) and Trebbiano (which adds mouthwatering, food friendly acidity and crushed hazelnut nuance).

What made this wine “perfect” to me?

It’s approachability – anyone who enjoys wine will find something about this wine that excites them; it’s intriguing because it is complex, but it is so well integrated you don’t get bogged down thinking about what makes you happy to just sip it. It’s texture is also noteworthy – it has a silky entry and a zippy finish.

It’s versatility – you can drink this wine all on its own or have it with just about any kind of food (even if you’re having steak, I’m willing to bet the corn on the cob and salad accompaniments, for example, would bring the whole meal together while sipping this wine).

It’s Italian-ness drives the wine home – so subtle in this particular wine, I love that little bit of satisfying nuttiness that sneaks in there and makes you smile when you realize it’s there.

Long story short, I have a feeling I’m going to be playing favorites this summer, even though I don’t officially have any…

Do you believe in the perfect wine?

I often write about wines specifically, sometimes peppering in posts about a particular restaurant that’s caught my attention. Individually these are just a couple of ‘tools’ you can put in your belt on the quest for a fuller wine experience. Because wine, in fact, is all about the experience – who you are with, how your drink of choice pairs with a snack or meal of choice, ambience, service, etc. Any given wine experience may have any one or more of these various components. It is the intersection of parts that creates the bigger picture, hopefully of just plain old fun or (better yet) memorable elation. In my experience, these Moments are not something you can plan.

This week I had the great pleasure of joining a local wine colleague at dinner with Marchesi di Barolo’s Anna Abbona. Our destination? Somerville’s tucked away ‘hot spot’ Journeyman. I had yet to embark for Journeyman – not for lack of trying (note: they are closed on Tuesdays).  The praise has remained outstanding among my colleagues and so I was all the happier to have the ‘excuse’ to visit. To say it didn’t disappoint is not quite accurate. To say it Exceeded Expectations is closer to the truth: artisanal; attention to detail; hospitality; fresh; inspired; inventive. These are just a few words that Chef/Owners Diana and Tse Wei are beginning to redefine; the bar has been reset – so high in fact, I wonder if someone can top them. “Camberville“  is where it’s at.

Journeyman set the stage for an exceptional experience, doing their part (beyond the exceptional fare) by making very clever “beverage” pairings (with Sutton Cellar’s aperitif and Cisco Brewing Company’s Grey Lady mixed in to the fun of their wine pairing roster). However, meeting the captivating, bright (and also beautiful) Anna was truly a treat. This is a woman who is a crucial part of an elite, fifth generation wine making family in one of the world’s most important wine regions: Piedmont. I could wax poetic about her stunning wines (the 2007 Ruvei Barbera d’Alba and 2004 Cannubi Barolo made their presence known during dinner) as their sultry femininity, depth of character, expression of terroir and structure were enough to stop all conversation in its tracks. But I have to say it was her salt-of-the earth nature, openness about her experiences traveling, her insights about emerging wine markets and the focus Marchesi di Barolo will continue to maintain -  amidst ample laughter, her mutual banter and appreciation for the larger Journeyman experience and general frivolity that marked the evening tops in my books.

Indeed, I will happily return to Journeyman, though yes, this particular outing will remain on my Top 10 Boston Evenings for much time to come and it is likely it will never be unseated.

Among the grey-ist of Springs, it is now summer in my book! Thank you Anna. Thank you Diane and Tse Wei. Thank you Kathryn.

We’ve had uncharacteristically balmy and warm temps in Boston this week, and with May just around the corner, it’s not quite premature to talk about rose wines. Or is it?

You know from previous posts of mine on the topic that rose is that special pink wine that is irrefutably dry. It is also something that is released early each Spring in order to be served fresh off the presses, if you will, and keep us refreshed during the warm months of the year. There is great anticipation each year when ‘rose season’ will begin, a sort of unofficial statement of warmer days to come.

For better or worse – not enough data points are in yet to be sure – the last few years we’ve noticed a trend whereby producers, importers and wholesalers seem to be in ka-hoots (sp?) to get the first jump on rose season. Last year’s (2009) roses from France (Provence being the most famous production area) offered a crisp punch, a happy marriage of minerality and ample fruit, which seemed in never-ending supply. We were grateful. Just the way we like it!

This year’s batch, the 2010′s, seem a bit lackluster as yet. They aren’t bad wines by any stretch of the imagination. But coming on the heels of such a lovely 2009 vintage, it’s hard to get as excited at the moment. We can’t help wonder if our experience thus far with Provencial rose (the main disappointment) is that the wines are being released TOO early. It’s possible the wines just need to settle in, get acclimated and integrated, to really deliver. But we won’t know just yet.

In the meantime, if  like me you are happy for the warmer days and want to scratch the rose itch, I recommend giving Provence a little time and trying other areas. Right now I’m digging a terrific rose from Bordeaux (you almost never see rose coming from this appellation) that is a blend of two ‘bigger’ grapes, Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot; it is from Chateau Larroque. Next up is a new arrival VERY few were lucky to get their hands on this year. It is a rose of Pinot Noir from the Willamette Valley’s Anne Amie made in the saignee method and aged ever so briefly in wood, which gives it a richer mouthfeel. Massachusetts was the only state outside of Oregon to get an ever-so-small allocation of 15 cases. Grab a couple of bottles now to get you over the Provencial hump!

Are you ready for rose season? Found any new favorites?

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!

This post was written while I was traveling in Spain last week.

To say the Priorat expresses itself on the drive in, up and curving painstakingly through the mountains is one thing. Certainly. As I write (after a day of exploring this part of the Priorat and tasting at Clos Figueres – more on that later), I’m perched in my semi-private patio, overlooking life as the 240 person town of Gratallops knows it – children (all of them?) playing on the basketball court below not more than 100 feet from me, the quiet office of my hotel and the cellars (Onyx) they run, and the “parking lot” – a lucky plot of land not more than 1200 square feet with a place for you to turn off the engine without worry one of the narrow former cow path roads will lend itself to some sort of collision while you rest in the dormitory more or less above.

Purple flowers are in bloom while the vines are still largely dormant, with just a few buds appearing in the fairly warm, temperate spring air. The ground is a bright green, that is where grass is poking through, hanging in there for just a few weeks before the ever-warm sun cooks it to browness in the absence of rain.

Whereas Penendes was an amalgam of soil types, the Priorat is nearly completely (frighteningly, re: drive) terraced licoricella, or a sandy/rocky slate. Here in the lower Priorat at least, it is largely Grand Canyon orange-red. Olive (dark green) and almond (lighter green) trees are scattered throughout the vineyards. Visually they add a natural texture and romantic call to the landscape.

A vinous comparison? There is not really one. You could stretch to the complexity and arguably ‘fierce’ structure (well balanced but more tannic) wines of Bordeaux, but the fruit forward, teeth-sinking, chewy wines of Chateauneuf du Pape (last year’s trip) are perhaps better comparisons – at least one of the primary grapes used in both their reds is one in the same: Garnacha/Grenache.

The most fascinating thing – the thing that becomes particularly self-evident once you visit a wine region such as this – is that you can taste the terroir. It is visceral, it is not really something you can put your finger on, but it is very apparent. You “see” the red slate as you taste, the texture (fine tannin) is as animate as touching the soil, the olive and almond trees, the purple flowers…. The downright freshness of this place is alive in the wine. The best wineries (I think, humbly) capture this local essence no matter where you are. In Priorat you gather a survival of the fittest, but a sleepy-town (quiet) elegance as well…..