The world's stupidest winery design

I've seen a low-ceilinged winery in Italy that's lit by candlelight, where the barrels must be moved by hand, but it's 500 years old. I've seen wineries that are little more than empty spaces in airline hangars, without air conditioning or even sufficient electrical power to run it. But those are used by people either inheriting family property, counting their pennies, or both.

The stupidest winery design in the world is being built in the 21st century by a guy with lots of money. And he's a building developer by trade. So there's no excuse.

The winery is Narbona, in western Uruguay. It's owned by Argentine developer Eduardo Canton. The wines aren't bad, despite the presence of Michel Rolland* as a consultant.

* Side note: Rolland told a Uruguayan newspaper earlier this year, "People have the right to drink the wines they want, even if they're shit."

Anyway, Rolland may be consulting on the wines, but he's too smart to have anything to do with the winery design. The on-site winemaker, Maria Valeria Chiola, is smart enough not to criticize it directly, but does say an elevator would make her job easier.

Here's the problem: The building is two stories high, but the top floor, at ground level, doesn't extend all the way across the building. In fact, not a single walkway extends all the way across the building.

Weird new spirits: green sparkling wine, prison liquor and Vodquila

I just spent three days at the Wine & Spirits Wholesaler Association convention in Orlando, Florida, where I was a judge for their wine competition. I got an immediate hint at what I was in for when the first flight of wines arrived. See that second glass from right? The photo is unretouched: that's what it looked like.

How to judge it? It was the best green sparkling "wine" I've ever had, though after the competition I learned it's not wine, it's Zider, presumably made from zapples, maybe with added zugar. We gave it a silver medal, and you could argue that we were penurious, as it was the best of its class.

Wine is only a small part of the WSWA convention, though, as some of the forlorn-looking foreign wine producers learned. Spirits are what people there care most about, and particularly new products, which are driving most of the growth of the industry.

Producers pay thousands of dollars to attend, rent hospitality suites at the Ritz-Carlton -- that's not cheap -- and hire hot young women to walk the halls in as little fabric as possible, promoting their brands. It's hard not to be impressed by the endless parade of babes; I wondered often where they find them all, and if the Orlando area, in marketing mouse ears, is missing its true selling point(s).

Vodquila was actually a 19-year-old girl's class project.

This will not surprise you: Almost all wine and spirits distributors are men, mostly middle-aged, mostly wearing dark suits even on 93-degree Orlando days, although the outside temperature doesn't matter if you never leave the Ritz-Carlton. The WSWA convention has, literally, unlimited booze. That said, I'm not sure I saw anybody drunk -- these people are professionals. But still: give a man even a little booze, and a buxom woman's smile becomes even brighter.

If a booth was peddling aged Calvados or wines made from Portuguese native grape varieties, the spokesman was most likely an older man in a checked suit. But if the product was called something like Booze Cupz, you could count on two women in swimsuits and high heels handing out sample cups. (Lots of weird product photos after the jump.)

How to get 90 points for your Cabernet in Wine Spectator

Rich, creamy mocha: 92 points!

Flipping through the current (May 31) issue of Wine Spectator, I noticed a trend in the rating of California Cabernet Sauvignon and blends by Mr. James Laube: the ones he likes taste like "mocha."

He reviewed 29 Cabs in the issue. He gave no scores of 90 or 91. Everything was either 92 or above (salesmen's manna) or 89 or below (discount store, here we come).

Here's the breakdown:

Wines mentioning "mocha" in the tasting notes:

95 points: 1/1
94 points: 4/6
93 points: 4/5
92 points: 2/4 (including "mocha-laced oak;" also "rich, creamy mocha and vanilla-laced oak")

89 points: 1/4 (not counting "melted chocolate at the center")
88 points: 1/8 (and that one has "subtle mocha." I guess it's too subtle.)
87 points: 0/1

Above 90 points: 11/16
Below 90 points: 2/13

In sum, if you want a good score on a Cabernet from Wine Spectator, it's best to stop by Starbucks on your way to submitting the sample.

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Marichal's two unique Pinot Noir blends: with Chardonnay and Tannat

Juan Andrés Marichal with the Tannat vines outside his winery

Outside of Champagne, few wineries admit blending Pinot Noir, and when they do it's usually in a low-end wine. Marichal winery in Uruguay makes two exciting blends of Pinot Noir I hadn't previously imagined, much less tasted.

The first is a commonplace blend for bubbly, Pinot Noir and Chardonnay, but I don't think I've ever seen it in a still wine.

Marichal Reserve Collection Uruguay Pinot Noir Chardonnay blanc de noir 2012 ($16) is a very light pink that tastes like a fairly full-bodied white wine (though just 13% alcohol) with a few pink notes. Rarely do you taste leesiness and tannin in the same wine. It's not fruit-driven, but fresh, with great texture. You taste fresh vanilla bean on the finish (the Pinot Noir, 65% of the blend, is all barrel-fermented) and you have to strain to taste a little strawberry. The closest thing to it are white wines made from Pinot Noir in Oregon, which I love, but this is more Chardonnay-like than those.

"We wanted to make a Pinot Noir, but we thought on its own it didn't have enough acidity," says Juan Andrés Marichal. "It wasn't interesting. Not enough character. So we added Chardonnay."

Marichal made less than 100 cases of the first vintage in 2007, but the wine proved popular, so he's up to 750 cases.

But as with most Uruguayan wineries, his expansion potential seems limited because it's a small family operation.

His great-grandparents, immigrants from Lugarno, Italy and the Canary Islands, started Marichal winery in 1916.

Why I wish Wine Spectator gave sake 100-point ratings

Wine Spectator's current issue has a cover story on sushi, and inside there's a feature on sake. To tell you the truth, I haven't read it. But I know from the Colorado Wine Press blog that Spectator published sake tasting notes, with no 100-point-scale ratings.

Wine Spectator Executive Editor Thomas Matthews commented on the post:

After decades of experience tasting and evaluating wines, we feel confident in our ability to use the 100-point scale in a way that's consistent, reliable and useful for readers.

We have much less experience with sake, and felt that broader categories would be more appropriate to express our opinions on their quality. However, I could easily see a critic with deeper experience in sake using the 100-point scale, and perhaps if we taste extensively enough, one day we will too.

I applauded Matthews' comment for its humility, something wine ratings organizations show too little of. And I still do.

Having had a week to think about it, though, I wish Spectator had been its usual self and said, "This one's a 92, this one's an 87." Here's why.

Domaine Chandon shows the impact of SO2

Tom Tiburzi

What would commercial wines taste like without SO2?

SO2 is a necessary preservative for wines in the US distribution system. With the exception of Beaujolais Nouveau, we don't know how long a wine has been sitting in uncooled ships, warehouses or stores. Often I write about a current release of a wine and learn that in other states they're still selling a wine two years older. There is an undercurrent of people who oppose SO2 addition to wine, but I will not join them because I'm a pragmatist.

However.

Last month I went to Domaine Chandon's 40th anniversary party. We drank a number of library wines with dinner, and all were disgorged specifically for the event with no added SO2.

"Typically we add sulfur dioxide to knock back that oxidative quality," says Tom Tiburzi, Chandon sparkling winemaker.

But in this case, Tiburzi had an audience of sommeliers, wine buyers, longtime Chandon fans and writers, and thought we would enjoy the taste of maturity.

And we did, we really did. The sparkling wines which had spent years on the lees -- 40 years, in one case -- had a smoky quality, with a rich mouthfeel and sherry flavors. Tiburzi says this isn't something most people necessarily want in sparkling wine.

Tiburzi's a microbiologist: in fact, that's how he got a job at Chandon with no wine experience 21 years ago. "Winemaking is just yeast. It's all microbiology," Tiburzi says. "They wanted somebody to look at wine as yeast."

What Uruguayan Tannat tastes like

Francisco Carrau shows Tannat's characteristic broad leaves

You may think of Tannat as the tannic grape of Madiran in southern France, nearly undrinkable on release. Rare versions of Tannat in other countries tend to be full-bodied.

But in Uruguay, where it is the best grape variety, Marichal blends it with Pinot Noir, which grows alongside it. Alto de la Ballena blends it with Viognier. Pisano blends it with Syrah and Viognier.

And each of these is among the best wines at those excellent small family wineries.

As with most red grapes, Tannat's character is in the hands of the winemaker. There are potent 16% alcohol versions and racy, savory versions. There's unoaked, very oaked, moderately oaked. There's Tannat that's tannic like tarbrush and fresh like cherry juice. Even though Uruguay as a nation makes half as much wine as a single winery (Concha y Toro) in nearby Chile, the styles of single-variety Uruguayan Tannat vary like the styles of Syrah in France.

What Tannat wants to be in Uruguay is revealed by what it plays well with.