Concours Mondial: Final score

How much power does one judge on a panel of five have? It turns out to be mostly negative -- a really bad mark can sink a wine, but a really good mark can't give it a medal.

The results are finally in from last month's Concours Mondial de Bruxelles, where I was one of 225 judges from around the world. I sat on a 5-judge panel in a competition organized differently from most: we didn't debate our scores, but instead just turned in scoresheets that were later tabulated and adjusted according to our grading tendencies. In other words, if I was a tough grader, my scores were, in theory, boosted up.

Our tasting was completely blind; we knew only the vintage, but not the region, varietal or even country. Looking at the results later of only the 150 wines I tasted, here are a few observations:

* Vino Nobile di Montepulciano is a very strong region. We tasted five wines and all won medals -- four golds and a silver. My favorites: Poggio Stella 2006, Gersemi Fassati 2006 and Pasiteo Fassati 2005.

* The Moravie region of the Czech Republic is a great source of white wines. We tasted six wines and all six won medals -- three golds and three silvers. However, my scores must have been boosted in this category because I wasn't as enthusiastic as I was about the Italian reds. My favorite: Vinselekt Michlovky Aurelius Private Selection 2000.

* I marked down the Vinne Sklepy Chateau Valtice Ledove Vino Veltlinske Zelene Icewin 2007 from the Moravie region because I didn't realize it was an ice wine; it was the only dessert wine in a group of dry whites, and I realized after turning in my scoresheet that I hadn't given it scores as high as it deserved. Fortunately, this didn't matter: the wine got a gold anyway, so I don't have to apologize to the winery. But as with the whole category, I have to wonder if my scores had any impact on the result at all.

* Conversely, I really enjoyed several wines from an "other white Burgundy" group, including Jaffelin Rully 2007, Ropiteau Frere Auxey-Duresses 2007 and Pierre Andre Meursault 2007. But none of them won a medal.

* Rhone reds from Gigondas and Vacqueyras aren't as strong as you'd expect compared to other categories. We gave three medals out of 15 wines tasted. I might have added a fourth, but I was surprised when this category was revealed. Our favorite: Clos du Bois de Menge Gigondas 2008.

* I enjoyed tasting Luxembourg Rieslings, and we gave four medals out of 18, all silver (I would have gone gold twice). But I wish we had tasted Luxembourg Pinot Gris: Five of those won gold medals, which makes me wonder if Pinot Gris is that much better in Luxembourg, or they got a more generous panel.

* Chilean Carmeneres, yuck. As a group we gave three medals out of 12, but I found only one wine deserving, and its identity surprised me: Casillero del Diablo Reserva Valle de Rapel 2007.

* Hungarian Cabernet is another tough category: we gave only one medal, a silver to the deserving Bock Magnifico Villany 2006.

* Reds from the Douro region of Portugal are trendy lately, but with some exceptions I found quality shaky at a recent tasting in San Francisco and our panel had the same reaction: three medals out of 12. Our consensus favorite: Callabriga Tras-os-Montes 2006.

* While the Concours Mondial may be the world championship of wine, American wines are rarely entered. Why? American consumers don't care. Would they pay more attention if there were more American judges? There were only four of us out of 225. I'm going to guess probably not -- as a nation, we buy wine by point scores, not gold medals.

* 13 American wines did win medals. But unlike the Luxembourg Rieslings and the like, small production wines that seem to be entered for pride, the American wines were almost all mass-produced wines entered with an eye to gaining respectability in Europe.

* Gallo is the main participant, taking 9 medals (6 for Gallo Family Vineyards, and one each for Dancing Bull, Rancho Zabaco and Redwood Creek). Coppola took two medals and Beringer one.

* The one non-mass market US wine to win a medal was Trefethen Estate Chardonnay 2007.

* The highest award for a US wine was a "great gold" medal for Rancho Zabaco Heritage Vines Zinfandel 2007. Congrats to the Rancho Zabaco folks for pleasing the European palate.

* I did not have the privilege of tasting any of the best-in-show wines (check out the Concours website). And I have to wonder how these wines were chosen, since nobody tasted wines outside their group. Does that mean the most generous groups picked the overall winners?

US wines in Germany

Germany may be a nation of beer drinkers, but wine is omnipresent here; even Bavarian beer halls stock a few pork-friendly wines. Moreover, unlike France or Italy, wine-producing nations that mostly drink their own, Germans drink internationally; in grocery stores, German wines are in the minority.

However, while you can easily buy wines from Spain, France, Italy and South Africa even in convenience stores, U.S. wines are rare, outside of low-end Gallo wines that tend to sit in a low corner of the aisle. Even Gallo isn't price-competitive; for 6 Euros, I can get one of their non-vintage California-appellation reds, or a vintage-dated Spanish wine with regional character. What would you buy?

In Hamburg, the second-largest port in Europe, I wandered into a well-stocked wine shop called Hanseaten Select and chatted with wine buyer Mike-Alexander Brede. Brede has one of the largest selections of American wines I saw: a dozen current-vintage reds -- from Bogle Zinfandel to Shafer Merlot -- and a few older vintages of high-end wines like Opus One and Robert Mondavi Winery Reserve Cabernet.

"American wines aren't doing much in the German market because they aren't interested," Brede said. "I call wineries asking for the wine and they tell me that it's all allocated, or they have mailing lists, or something. They just don't care about selling in Europe."

Brede had several different bottles from Hess Collection, all well-priced.

"Hess' winemaker was just here a couple of weeks ago," Brede said. "They almost never visit us. That was something special."

Brede is a fan of some U.S. wines; his favorite is Ladera Cabernet, which he stocks. He says Schug Pinot Noir is well-regarded, and he even stocks Schug's quirky sparkling red, though he says he will drink 4 bottles from the 6-bottle case himself. He also says he often recommends Bogle and McManis Family Vineyards wines as offering value for money.

But he says that most German drinkers are not looking for New World style wines, which is why you see many more South African wines on store shelves than Australian.

"South African wines are popular because they're more in the European style, and also some of the wineries have very old European connections," Brede said. "For a little more money, Bordeaux is always very popular. People like a lighter, low-alcohol style."

Paradoxically, Robert Parker's ratings are followed, though they are controversial. Brede says he might use Parker's ratings as an additional selling point but I did not see point-of-sale materials anywhere in the country citing point scores. However, there is a German wine competition that offers medals, and winners of that competition use bottle stickers to advertise it.

Brede says the overall reputation of American wines has been hurt by the ubiquity of generic wines from Gallo and lately from Robert Mondavi Winery.

"Many people here feel a connection with America and so they want to try an American wine, but when they try it, if it's a Gallo wine and it's not so special, they don't see any reason to try another one," Brede said.

One wine-market trend you don't see much of in Germany yet is private-label wines. I spotted a private-label California Cabernet Sauvignon in one grocery store. But unlike in British grocery stores and US wine chain stores, private-label wines are still rare.

Brede wouldn't speculate as to why, but I have a guess: Germans are more puritanical about ingredients than any other country; the EU overturned their purity law for beer, but consumers still reject brands that don't follow it. Perhaps German consumers are still unwilling to buy wines without knowing the source, whereas we English-speakers will wrap our lips around just about anything.

How to make a burger wine-friendly, by Barack Obama

When they're not running the country, American social conservatives (and their media rep, Fox News) really are good for laughs.

Their latest talk-radio outrage is that Barack Obama likes mustard, particularly Dijon mustard, on a hamburger. My God, he must be a socialist! He's sure not a "regular Joe" (especially because his name is not Samuel).

If you're reading this in Europe, you probably think I'm kidding, but it's true -- Obama and Joe Biden went to a burger joint in Virginia, and Fox News covered it. Obama asked, "I just want mustard. No ketchup. Have you got spicy mustard or something like that? Dijon mustard or something like that?"

You can see some of the conservative reaction here. Suffice to say that a burger with mustard is too "fancy" for these people. A President shouldn't actually enjoy eating any sophisticated food. This is an exact parallel to the idea that a President should be embarrassed about graduating from Harvard Law School.

Now, a President probably shouldn't drink wine either in their eyes (though let me point out that Ronald Reagan liked wine, but GW Bush didn't drink at all, and which one would they rather have back?)

But for those of us who do indulge, let me point out that mustard -- especially Dijon -- is a very wine-friendly condiment. In contrast, catsup, which is full of sugar, will make most red wines taste a little sour. For that reason, also avoid honey mustard if you're having wine.

For those of us who like wine with our burgers -- I sure do -- here's a quick list of how condiments affect wine pairing options.

Good with wine:
Mustard
Cheese (Cheddar is better than bleu)
Grilled onions
Mayo
Grilled mushrooms
Bacon

Neutral:
Lettuce
Raw onions
"Special sauce"
Tomato (almost bad; requires a wine with good acidity)

Bad with wine:
Pickles (though I love 'em)
Jalapenos
Salsa

As for what wine is best with a burger, I'm a fan of a fairly hearty red with good fruit: Zinfandel, for example, or Petite Sirah. But I've opened good Cabernets and Syrahs with burgers plenty of times and been a happy muncher; with a mushroom-Swiss burger I prefer Pinot. However, if it's a trophy Cab, I do force myself to lay off the pickles. But mustard -- that's just fine with wine.

Once again, I'm grateful for Barack Obama's leadership on a key issue facing America today: making hamburgers wine-friendly.

Kafe und kuchen -- feast your eyes

Many Germans eat cake every afternoon. My friends in northern Germany eat "kafe und kuchen" (coffee and cake) as a fourth meal about 4 p.m., with a lighter dinner later of bread and prepared salads.

The quality of cakes available in bakeries (not to mention bread) is very high, but it's a point of pride for many people to bake it themselves.

These are a few of the home-baked cakes I enjoyed in Germany. The cake at the top was made by a friend who's a true Renaissance man: He fights fires, teaches, and does all the cooking for his girlfriend, including this delicious light cheesecake with plump rum-infused raisins. I had two slices; these were not calories to regret.

My friends thought I was a little goofy for taking pictures of their daily kuchen. I guess it would be like one of my friends coming over and doing a photo shoot on a turkey sandwich I made for lunch. But I regret not taking more cake photos.

One storebought bonus below: John F. Kennedy's famous statement "Ich bin ein Berliner" actually means, "I am a jelly donut," because if you order a Berliner, that's what you get.

But what if you order an Amerikaner?


You get a lemon-iced cookie. The one I had was pretty tasty. I'm willing to identify with it.

LA Times on Air and Wine

Just a quick note to point out my story on Air and Wine in the Los Angeles Times.

A couple outtakes from the story:

* One of the main mercaptans responsible for preventing us from immediately enjoying the aromas of wine is methyl mercaptan, which is also what gives stinky cheese its stink and bad breath its badness. In fact, we all carry methyl mercaptan in our bloodstream all the time, and we're just waiting for a time and a place. Cheery thought, yes?

* Vinturi now makes a red-wine and a white-wine model. I like the Vinturi; in fact, I used it last night to open up a 2006 Barton & Guestier Pouilly-Fuisse, which went from smelling like gym floor cement to buttered toast in less than a minute after being Vinturi-ed into a decanter. (I had the Pouilly-Fuisse with some amazing white asparagus that I got from Germany -- I opened a Sauvignon Blanc initially, but it was way to strong for the delicate spargel.) However, I don't really see the difference between the white and red wine models, and the producer wasn't forthcoming with it, so I think it's just an excuse to sell one more product to people who already like it.

* Decanter size and shape does matter, but just as glass size and shape matter. Don't overthink it: If you want a lot of air fast, use a big decanter. That said, my personal favorite decanter (I have four or five) is a very compact Riedel model which I like not because it has a great amount of surface area, but because it fits easily in my freezer or refrigerator -- great for chilling down whites while they aerate.

* After writing the article, I had the opportunity to do performance testing on the Eisch "breathable" glass, and the results were surprising. I'll do a full posting on this next week.

The dilemma of deliciousness

Recently I had the chance to taste a simply delicious liquor: The Balvenie Rum Cask 17-year Scotch.

But it raised a question, about which I had a debate with KCBS Food and Wine Editor Narsai David. This question comes up frequently in the wine world, less so in spirits:

Is it enough for a product to be delicious? Or must it also be representative of its type?

As the name suggests, this Scotch finished its aging in casks that previously held rum. It was excellent: It smelled like a good baba rhum dessert. The mouthfeel was super-smooth, and the finish was very long. If I didn't know better, I would have thought it was a super-premium rum, maybe some previously unknown version of Havana Club aged 10 years or more.

That's the problem: This Scotch costs $130 a bottle, and it tastes like a delicious rum. Does that justify its existence?

My initial impression was yes: Anything that's delicious deserves to find a market. Narsai David was dismissive; he said that there's no reason for a Scotch to taste like rum when there are so many fine rums available.

It's an interesting question. I don't mind flavored vodkas, but I have always turned up my nose at flavored rums because, while vodka is a mostly-flavorless mixer anyway, I think rum should taste like rum. So why am I accepting of Scotch that tastes like rum?

I don't want to suggest that Narsai and I were just hanging out sampling Scotch; we were at a Balvenie pairing dinner at Le Colonial restaurant in San Francisco. Chef Joseph Villanueva made his most successful pairing with the rum-casked Scotch: Coconut braised pork belly with quail egg, parsnip puree, hosui pear, savory caramel sauce and white truffle oil. The dish played well with the sweet nose of the Scotch.

Balvenie wanted to prove that its Scotch pairs well with different kinds of food. I'm not sure why this is important, as most dinners leave plenty of time later in the evening to drink Scotch. But it was a good chance to taste the Balvenie lineup: I liked the 21-year Portwood quite well ($120), but I think the best value was the 12-year Doublewood ($52), which I much preferred to the Single Barrel 15-year ($55).

All of Balvenie's Scotches are on the sweet side, which makes them more approachable to occasional drinkers. The Doublewood -- I can't say I approve of the name, but it's just a name -- opens with rich molasses notes and has hints of red berries, with Sherry on the finish. Add a wee drop of water and it's gentler and a little less sweet, with more of a toffee finish.

Anyway, back to the debate about the Scotch that tastes like rum.

I don't think of myself as a prescriptive critic. In fact, that's a big reason I stopped writing movie reviews: Who am I to tell Hollywood to put fewer explosions in its films when they believe that's what sells tickets? It's also the reason I haven't jumped on the bandwagon of wine critics criticizing high-alcohol wines. Who am I to tell a winery not to make a profit?

However, there's another school of thought that says a critic's job is to point out the intellectually flawed. Narsai was dismissive of the rum casked-Scotch from the beginning, saying with all the great rums in the world, this was just a waste of time. He tasted it and immediately set it aside.

Maybe he's right. I loved drinking it -- it was the only glass I emptied -- but it was free; I wouldn't spend my own money for it. I do spend that much for spirits occasionally, but with my wallet, not my keyboard, I tend to agree with his philosophy. The last few spirits I paid more than $100 for were well-aged bottles of Calvados and Armagnac.

Narsai's a radio guy; if our debate had been broadcast, he would have won easily, because he shifted the topic to "Sideways" and "Bottle Shock." I admitted that I enjoyed both, though for different reasons: "Sideways" is a good movie; "Bottle Shock" is a likable, if also mostly fictional, bad movie.

Narsai pinned me down on this point: "So you're willing to say you enjoyed a movie if it entertains you, even if it's completely fictional and without artistic merit?" I stipulated to that. Yes, I am. I took the same position on the rum-casked Scotch. It entertained my palate. I guess I give it one tongue up. But I do see both sides of the dilemma of deliciousness.

Spargelpalooza

It's spargel (white asparagus) season in northern Germany, and the country is obsessed with it.

Germany's roads are mostly free from billboards, so the hand-painted signs are even more noticeable: frisch spargel! Spargel menus! Spargel here!

Every restaurant I've gone to so far has had a special page of spargel dishes -- even a beer bar in Luneburg that had only about two pages of food to begin with. Of course, a spargel page isn't really necessary because nobody does a whole lot with spargel: It's either cream soup, or it's steamed whole. The menus list the accompaniments. I've had spargel with scrambled eggs with fresh herbs, spargel with ham, spargel with Canadian salmon. Some serve spargel with a hollandaise-like sauce; others with brown butter (that's homemade spargel, above, with a brown butter sauce.)

I don't know why we don't eat white asparagus in the States. Any asparagus plant that produces green asparagus could produce spargel. It's just a matter of depriving the shoots of light.

The result is a more delicate-tasting asparagus, and that may be why we don't eat it: green asparagus is more intense. That said, I really like spargel, and one of the reasons is that it's much more wine-friendly than green asparagus, against which I usually set New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc and let 'em fight it out on my palate.

This being Germany, most places recommend Riesling with spargel, and I'm happy to follow that. Incidentally, it's really striking to me that the great majority of restaurant-list Rieslings here are trocken (dry). In the US we tend to think of Riesling from Germany as mostly sweet; that's OK, but I much prefer the trockens.

I have also had Sylvaner with spargel, a happy match, and Gruner Veltliner from Austria, which I think is probably the best of all so far. But I need to keep investigating spargel-wine matching, and that's going to mean eating a whole lot more spargel. Spargelpalooza!