I always feel guilty when I write about the wines of Renaissance Vineyard and Winery because so little is available. The eccentric winery in Oregon House, California, north of Sacramento in the Sierra Foothills — specifically North Yuba — turns out minuscule quantities of generally superb wines. Under the guidance of winemaker Gideon Beinstock, Renaissance eschews the use of new oak, keeps alcohol content to sane levels and follows organic practices. The wines adhere to a principle of dignity and sometimes nobility, of purity and intensity, that often makes a mockery of the the over-wrought shenanigans that occur in wineries to the south. So, know beforehand, that these wines are not only Worth a Search but that they Demand a Search.

The Renaissance Rosé 2007 is the first rosé I have tried from this producer. It’s made from 100 percent cabernet sauvignon grapes and ages four months in used German oak ovals, an old-fashioned type of barrel that typically holds 1,000 to 1,200 liters; the ubiquitous French barrique holds 225 liters, or 59 gallons. This is one of the most unusual rosés I have ever encountered. The bouquet is spicy and foxy in the way of muscadine wines, offering notes of dried strawberries, orange rind and dried thyme over a wild and foresty element. The wine is very dry, with a seriously firm, supple structure, yet it displays a winsome, almost ephemeral quality of dried red fruit, spiced citrus and limestone. Drink through the end of summer 2009. Renaissance made 55 cases of this wine, plus 12 cases of half-bottles, so good freakin’ luck, Jack. Excellent. About $18.

LL called the Renaissance Carte d’Or 2007 “a gift to vegetarians,” and indeed the wine’s striking fruity, herbal nature would make it appropriate for all sorts of vegetable-based dishes, including risottos (which don’t have to be made with chicken broth) and pastas. The wine is a blend of 60 percent semillon grapes and 40 percent sauvignon blanc that ages six months in neutral German oak ovals. It opens with herbal-grassy scents with touches of apples and figs and smoky dried pear. Carte d’Or ‘07 is very dry, spare, clean, crisp and tart without being citrusy (read: no grapefruit), and it brings up hints of celery, ginger and melon, a bit of riesling-like honeyed peach, a wafting of jasmine. Don’t mistake this for an aperitif wine; it’s too serious, too thoughtful for that blithe purpose. Drink through the end of 2009. Production is 258 cases. Excellent. About $20.

Get this: The alcohol content on the Renaissance Semillon 2006 is 12.3 percent. When was the last time you saw a wine from California with such a mild alcohol level; it’s positively (and refreshingly) archaic. Part of the winery’s “Vin de Terrior” series, the Semillon ‘06 offers a brilliant pale yellow/gold color. The bouquet spills out like a cornucopia of figs, melons and pears accented with dried thyme and bay leaf. The wine is quite crisp and dry but luscious with spiced and roasted pear and lemon flavors bolstered by a burgeoning limestone element. The wood, from those neutral German oak ovals, frames the wine deftly. I suspect that this wine will gather depth and nuance as it ages through 2010 or ‘12. Production is — sorry — 71 cases. Excellent. About $30.

I have not been a fan of the viognier wines that come from Renaissance. On the other hand, LL said that the Renaissance Viognier 2007 was the best she had even tried, but that’s because the doesn’t like viognier, and it’s true that some examples can be cloyingly, overwhelmingly floral and spicy; those are the ones she doesn’t like. On the other hand, I think the Renaissance versions, which puritanize the grape, err on the side of spareness, even to the point of attenuation. Not that this is a bad wine; it’s quite drinkable and enjoyable, but I think it does not take advantage of the grape’s natural virtues of full-bloom sensuality. So I rate this Very Good. 202 cases produced. About $30.

Renaissance wines have new labels, and I wish I could reproduce them for you, but, as much as we admire the winery’s avoidance of technology in the winemaking process, I wish it would exercise a little more technology when it comes to the website — rvw.com — and provide more useful tools and information.

Tony and Jo Ann Truchard founded Truchard Vineyards in 1974, making them pioneers in Carneros. They started with 20 acres and today have almost 400; 270 acres are planted in vines. They began making wines from their own grapes in 1989, though only about 20 percent of their grapes go to their 11 wines, which total around 16,000 cases annually. They still sell grapes to 20 or so wineries in the Napa Valley. Since 1998, the winemaker for Truchard has been Sal De Ianni.

I tasted five of Truchard’s wines about two weeks ago — they have not been in our market for several years — and I was knocked out. These wines don’t flirt with the purity and intensity of the grapes from which they are made; they embody those qualities. While the wines are sizable, they are never too big or overbearing, and they certainly don’t display egregious oak; they are, instead, models of power balanced by elegance. They possess the necessary acid and tannin for structure, yet they’re eminently drinkable, and actually delicious.

*Truchard Chardonnay 2006, Carneros, Napa Valley. Here’s exactly what devotees of California chardonnay desire most — should desire most — a chardonnay of poise and balance, of tremendous body and presence permeated by subtleties of crystalline purity. Lovely tone here, a nuanced layering of peach and pear, roasted lemon and lemon curd imbued with smoke and spice and, yes, a rich, slightly honeyed aspect leavened by chiming acid and a limestone element that burgeons in the glass. Oak is there but almost tissue-like in delicacy, a silk scarf thrown around a bare shoulder warmed by the sun. I love it, but a gentleman who tasted this wine at the same time I did complained, “There’s nothing to it. If I’m gonna drink California chardonnay I wanna feel that oak and butter!” I turned away, a silent prayer for mercy on my lips. Exceptional. About $30.

*Truchard Pinot Noir 2005, Carneros, Napa Valley. Those whose palates dote on the red wines of Burgundy rightly gripe that pinot noir wines from California (and sometimes Oregon) can be too deep and dark, too extracted, too ripe and spicy and brown- sugary, too high in alcohol, and, to boot, flabby from lack of acid. Notice that I say “can be,” because not all of California’s pinot noirs are velvety-flocked blockbusters, one example being this elegant, ethereal yet earthy Pinot Noir 2005 from Truchard. The color is an entrancing medium ruby shading to pale violet at the rim; smoky black cherry scents and flavors hint at cranberry and touches of watermelon and rhubarb for a wild aspect. In the mouth, the wine slides like satin, though it’s satin that carries a sense of vibrant acid and dense earthy-minerally-mossy qualities. Just lovely. Excellent. About $35.

*Truchard Merlot 2004, Carneros, Napa Valley. Wonderful — here come those words again — purity and intensity; this breathes black currants and black cherries penetrated by piercing minerality. The wine is vibrant and resonant in the mouth, sleek, elegant and polished but with dark depths of fruit and spice and smacky tannins that swim through and take a grip on the finish. Drink through 2012 or ‘14. Excellent. About $28.

*Truchard Syrah 2004, Carneros, Napa Valley. Seethes with authenticity: Black currant and plums, black pepper, sandalwood, smoke, roasted meat, that ineffable and characteristic touch of wet dog, a core of violets, lavender and minerals that feels as if they have been ground in a mortar. Tremendous weight and presence, engaging liveliness, huge, dense and chewy, awesome tannins that bring some austerity to the finish. Wow! Bring on the ribeye steak, hot and crusty from the grill! Drink through 2012 or ‘14. Excellent. About $28.

Truchard Cabernet Sauvignon 2004, Carneros, Napa Valley. Carneros is better known for chardonnay and pinot noir than cabernet sauvignon, but Truchard gets something out of the micro-climate here that seems perfect for the grape. This wine is equal parts seduction and seriousness; as the defunct Wine X magazine might have put it, “Like a blind date between Uma Thurman and the Incredible Hulk.” Twelve percent cabernet franc and one percent petit verdot are blended with the cabernet sauvignon; the wine ages 20 months in French oak, 45 percent new barrels; there’s nothing toasty or vanilla-like here. The intensity, the well-knit nature of the wine, the remarkable resonance seem to billow from the glass; this is a wine that draws you in. Black currant, cassis and plum flavors are nailed by riveting elements of dried flowers and a tremendous earthy-mineral quality. Tannins are magnificently proportioned, but soft, chewy, well-honed. A great achievement. Best from 2010 through 2018 or ‘20. Excellent. About $35.

The primary villain of Alice Feiring’s recently published book The Battle for Wine and Love or How I Saved the World from Parkerization (Harcourt, $23) is, naturally, Robert M. Parker Jr., whose critical voice, 100-point rating scale and penchant for big, jammy, toasty red wines (expressed in his bi-monthly journal The Wine Advocate) dominates the world of winemaking to an alarming extent. Toward the end of the book, which is cast in the form of a polemical memoir, the outspoken Feiring comes to a sort of uneasy truce with the famous man, whom she allows to have his say.

Not given a voice in the book is a secondary villain, the importer of Italian wines Marc de Grazia, who has made a career of encouraging the producers he handles, especially in Piedmont, to use small French oak barrels, or barriques, for aging their wines instead of the traditional large casks made of Slovenian oak or chestnut wood. Why did the producers of Barolo and Barbaresco and Barbera wines go along with this device? To sell wines in American, where wine drinkers dote on the smell and flavor of toasty new oak. Feiring takes this change in the values and traditions of Piedmont personally, because the first wine she tried that savored of being not just a real wine but a great one, was a Barolo 1968 from the producer Scanavino; it changed her life. I’ll admit that I sympathize with Feiring’s sense of loss. In the early 1990s, I had the chance to taste Barbarescos from the early 1960s and late 1950s made by Angelo Gaja’s father; they were superb, ethereal yet full-bodied, wonderfully pure and intense.

Here’s what Feiring says about Marc de Grazia:

… de Grazia, an American living in Florence, is attributed with aiding in [Piedmont’s] modernization. He encouraged many growers who supplied large producers … to make their own wines, and make them according to his guidance. Most of that stable of winemakers — Scavino, Sandrone, Seghesio — became Parker superstars. They made their wines with barriques, specialty yeasts, and fermenters that beat up the grapes to make the wine fruitier. By 1990, those new techniques and French barrels had become pandemic. Barbera is a low-tannin grape, and the extra wood did indeed give the wine more structure. Nebbiolo, on the other hand, has high tannin and its wines can have bones. To me, new wood on Barolo gives the wine hard-edged tannins that feel raspy, as if steel bristles were brushing the back of my throat, ruining the gorgeous wine.

Now it happens that a few months ago, I tasted about 45 wines, mainly red, from the portfolio of Marc de Grazia Selections. My reaction was that many of the wines were frankly, to borrow Feiring’s word, gorgeous; on the other hand, many of them were ferociously tannic, as in the Cavallotto Barolo “Vignolo” Riserva 2001 (about $100), the Cantina de Taburno “Bue Apis” Aglianico 2003 (about $145), and the Fratelli Pardi Rosso di Montefalco 2005 (about $24).

Some of the wines seemed more definitely of a place than others, which, while well-made, did not feel regionally or varietally characteristic. Several wines made from aglianico grapes, from Campania and other regions, could have been nothing but themselves. Oddly enough, the one wine that revealed a ludicrous, manipulative amount of oak was a white, the Vie di Romans Pinot Grigio “Dessimis” 2005, a clear attempt to force a wine above its proper station in life (about $44!); I found it undrinkable.

The website for Marc de Grazia is one of the most comprehensive that I have seen from an importer; you can find all the details of the winemaking process for each of the hundreds of wines the company imports. Reading about the wines that I offer brief reviews of below, I learned that de Grazia does not require or encourage new French barriques of all his producers. Several, you will see, adhere, almost strenuously, to traditional methods; other wines receive no oak at all, maturing in stainless steel tanks or concrete vats. I try to mention the wood regimen or lack thereof for these 24 wines. Marc de Grazia Selections wines are imported to the U.S. by Vin DiVino in Chicago.

Piedmont
*Alario Dolcetto di Diano d’Alba “Costa Fiore” 2006. Lovely wine, intense and concentrated, deep purple color, deeply spicy, vivid black fruit flavors, chewy texture, dense tannins, vibrant with acid. This wine in made in stainless steel; no oak. Excellent. About $22, Great Value.

*Elio Altare “Arborina” Barolo 2003. Exotic, ravishing bouquet of potpourri, sandalwood, baking spice, powdered orange rind and dried cherries, but a huge wine, vigorously tannin, formidably earthy and minerally. Ages two years in French barriques, 30 percent new. Don’t touch before 2010; should age beautifully through 2018 or ‘20. Excellent (potential). About $155.

*Cavallotto Dolcetto d’Alba “Scot” 2006. No winsome little Dolcetto here. Incredibly deep and dark, very spicy, tightly wound and concentrated, packed with grainy, velvety tannins, some astringency on the finish. No oak; matures six months in stainless steel. Needs a year or two to unfurl. Very good+. About $22.

*Cavallotto Barbera d’Asti Bricco Boschis “Cuculo” 2004. Ripe, warm, fleshy and roasted, sleek and muscular, has that core of minerals, spice, dried flowers and fruit as if ground in a mortar, soft finely-milled tannins, but an austere finish. Ages two years in casks, that is, barrels that are larger than barriques. Needs a year or two. Excellent. About $39.

*Cavallotto Barolo Bricco Boschis 2004. God, that’s huge, impenetrable, a monument and megalith. One reserves judgment. Try from 2010 or ‘12 and see how it goes. Ages 40 months in Slavonian oak casks of various sizes. About $76.

*Cavallotto Riserva Barolo San Giuseppe Bricco Boschis 2001. You could swim in the bouquet, sleep in it, wear it around your shoulders, it’s that ravishing and seductive, but in the mouth the wine is monumentally powerful, resolutely tannic, intense, concentrated and, finally, austere and astringent. Ages four years in Slavonian casks of various sizes. Excellent potential, I think, but needs long slumbering in the deep, delv’d earth. From a great year in Piedmont. About $100.

*Moccagatta Barbaresco “Bric Balin” 2003. Color is light, burnished garnet; bouquet of dried fruit and spices with a touch of fruit cake; old-fashion muscular and sinewy Barbaresco, yet it matured 18 months in barriques. Needs three or four years. Very good+ About $62.

*Mauro Molino Barolo 2003. Very deep, resonant, dense and chewy, packed with spice and tannin, almost forbidding in its austerity. Two years in oak. Try after 2010 or ‘12. Perhaps the potential is there. About $50.

*Fratelli Revello Barolo 2003. Purple upon purple; smoky and spicy, potpourri, warm, ripe and roasted black fruit, but depths of structure, earthy, tannic and minerally. 18 months, new French oak. Feels like a keeper with great rewards after 2012 or ‘13. Excellent. About $55.
(more…)

Brian Loring, owner and winemaker of Loring Wine Company, is a confessed pinot noir fanatic. In 1999 he began making small lots of pinot noir wines using grapes purchased from highly regarded and carefully chosen vineyards. For 2006, he produced 7,000 cases of pinot noir from 14 vineyards in California, averaging 500 cases for each vineyard-designated wine. “I’m not trying to be Burgundian,” Loring told me a couple of weeks ago, when I tried three of his pinots, and indeed you would not mistake these wines for the classic refined and elegant character of the best Burgundian models. On the other hand, you would not necessarily assert that these are typically Californian either; the Loring wines I tasted revealed none of the over-ripe, cloying brown sugar, stridently spicy elements that mar so many pinot noirs from The Golden State.

“Fruit is everything,” said Loring, and “What happens in the vineyard determines the quality of the wine,” two sentiments with which I heartily agree. The result of this philosophy — and of treating all the grapes in similar manner, whatever their vineyard of origin — is pinot noirs that reek of deep, dark, unabashedly fruity qualities bolstered by a tremendous earthy, minerally character.

The Loring Durrell Vineyard Pinot Noir 2006, Sonoma Coast, offers an entrancing color where purple shades into magenta that fades out with a ghostly blue rim. The bouquet smolders with bright, vivid black cherry, black currant and plum scents permeated by roses and violets and a hint of face powder. The wine is substantial, solid, tense, ravishing with intense black fruit flavors deeply etched with vibrant acid; the earthy aspect comes in as strata of brambles and briers and moss with underlying minerality. The texture is like liquid satin, with satin’s sense of coolness and warmth. Drink now through 2012 or ‘14. The alcohol level is 14.3 percent. Excellent. About $45 to $55.

The black fruit on the Loring Russell Family Vineyard Pinot Noir 2006, Paso Robles, is spicier, more elevated, even brighter than on the previous wine. This one is tremendously lively and vivid and resonant, feeling almost sentient in the mouth, though after a few minutes in the glass, brooding aspects of earth and minerals begin to assert themselves. The wine remains exquisitely balanced, however, an edifice rolling on finely milled tannins and subtle, tasteful oak. Drink now through 2011 to ‘13. The alcohol level is 14.6 percent. Excellent. About $45 to $50.

Distinguished by the slightly macerated and roasted nature of its black currant and plum scents and flavors, the Loring Clos Pepe Vineyard Pinot Noir 2006, Santa Rita Hills, stops short of being overwhelmingly sensuous. While the bouquet is subtly floral, the intense black fruit flavors, hinting at spice cake, are wrapped around a core of crushed violets, lavender, licorice and minerals. The wine is robust and vigorous, and it regally drapes the tongue and palate. Of this trio of Loring pinot noirs, the Clos Pepe is the least earthy, though the finish brings in rooty, mossy, briery elements. Drink now through 2012 or ‘14. The alcohol level is 14.7 percent, but the wine does not feel “hot” or in the least over-ripe. Exceptional. About $45 to $55.

These label images, taken from loringwinecompany.com, which could seriously use some up-dating, are from previous vintages of the Loring Gary’s Vineyard pinot noirs.

I had a lunch appointment yesterday and thought that it would be a good gesture to take a bottle of wine. Now I’m a journalist, not a doctor or lawyer or captain of industry, damnit — my regular job is being a reporter for the daily newspaper in Memphis — so I don’t have a wine cellar. There is a wine rack though, and sometimes I find an older, not a really old, wine on a bottom shelf, like “whoa, where did that come from?” That was the case with La Fleur de Boüard 1999, Lalande de Pomerol.

The chateau is a small property owned by Hubert and Corinne de Boüard de Laforest, co-proprietors of the splendid Chateau Angelus, a Premier Grand Cru Classe estate in Saint-Emilion. These are so-called Right Bank appellations of Bordeaux, meaning that they lie on the right side of the Dordogne river, about 45-minutes drive east of the city of Bordeaux, which lies on the left bank of the Garonne river. The two waterways merge north of Bordeaux (the city) to form the wide and mighty Gironde, which flows to the Atlantic. St.-Emilion is one of Bordeaux’s great appellations; Lalande de Pomerol, not as significantly situated, is often called a “satellite” commune or appellation, which doesn’t mean that great wines cannot emerge from it, as this example illustrates.

Anyway, in the Right Bank communes, the principal grape is merlot, which benefits from the clay-like or clay-gravel soil; the merlot is typically blended with smaller amounts of cabernet franc and cabernet sauvignon. In fact, the blend for La Fleur de Boüard 1999 is 80% merlot, 15% cabernet franc and 5% cabernet sauvignon. The wine tends to age 18 to 24 months in oak barrels, of which 80 to 90% are new. This is fairly rigorous treatment, but La Fleur de Boüard ‘99 comes through terrifically well.

The bouquet is ripe and warm and meaty and laden with scents of spiced and macerated black currants, black cherries and plums. That sensation of warmth, of downright appeal, continues in the mouth, where the wine is smooth and mellow and drinkable, with a texture like dusty velvet. It takes a few minutes before the durable structural elements begin to assert themselves: the earthiness and minerality, the tannin packed with layers of walnut shell, dried porcini and underbrush, the polished oak. At the same time, the aromas unfurl hints of lavender and sandalwood and dried spices.

At almost eight years old, what an enticing wine! I rate it Excellent. It’s one of those bottles that I wish I had six or so around, to test it over the next few years. It should be a lovely wine through 2012 to ‘15.

I think I paid $38 or $42 for this three or four years ago, though I’ve seen it on the Internet as low at $26. Recent vintages are more expensive, going up to $65, but all wine from Europe is more expensive now. And have you seen French and Italian cheeses? Outrageous!

Where food is concerned, astonishment does not equal happiness. Great cooking does not require prestidigitation but thoughtful consideration of the virtues of simplicity, intensity and inevitability. (Apply this concept to making wine, too.) I would take a perfect roasted chicken any day over the Frankensteinian kitchen feats that transform sea urchins into matchstick fries and olives into bubbles.

LL and I discussed these matters Wednesday after dinner because she had prepared, two nights running, what I decided were perfect meals: porcini risotto on Tuesday and salmon and bok choy on Wednesday. I always tell her that she’s a great cook, a designation she denies. “All I do,” she said that night, as we finished a bottle of Landmark Damaris Reserve Chardonnay 2005, “is try to get the most flavor out of the ingredients as possible.” Zut alors, what an idea! Perhaps the chefs of all the restaurants of the world could stitch those words into a sampler and hang it in their kitchens.

As far as porcini risotto is concerned, LL remains haunted by the by-now nearly mythical (or perhaps mystical) flavors of the dish as she experienced it on her first visit to northern Italy some 40 years ago. Often has she described to me the platonic earthiness, the sublime woodsy nature of that encounter. As she has made porcini risotto for us over the years, and I have reacted by asserting, “Wow, that’s fabulous,” she would demur and say, “Well, it’s good, I suppose, but it’s not like … ”

We had several packages of fragments of dried porcini mushrooms; they’re far cheaper than packages of the whole dried mushrooms, but they’re going to be chopped up anyway. LL soaked them in boiling water, but just to cover, so the flavor and color would be concentrated; then she used that “broth” in the risotto. She also chopped and sauteed a handful of shiitake mushrooms to add flavor. The whole process is a matter of cooking down, reducing, to intensify the elements.

There’s nothing photogenic about a wide, shallow bowl filled with porcini risotto; it’s just a mass of nubby, slightly glistening biege — LL shaved a little Parmesan cheese on the servings and scattered some diced green onion — but boy, did enticing smells rise from it! She took a bite and got this dreamy look on her face. “That’s it,” she said. “Whew,” said I.

Typically, I would have served a medium-bodied, not too boldly flavored red wine with this dish, say a lighter pinot noir or a Dolcetta d’Alba, but when LL called for a some white wine for the risotto, I plucked from the refrigerator a bottle of the Bonny Doon Le Cigare Blanc 2006, from California’s Central Coast, and poured us each a glass. We liked it so much that we decided to drink it with the risotto. I haven’t been thrilled recently with Bonny Doon’s red wines, but I’ve been knocked out by the whites, particularly Le Cigare Blanc 2006, and not just because it’s a faithful rendition of a white wine from the France’s southern Rhone Valley. Comparisons aside, it’s an entrancing and alluring wine.

Composed of 75.3 percent grenache blanc grapes and 24.7 percent roussanne grapes and aged about six months in neutral (that is, used) French oak barrels, the wine practically glimmers and vibrates in the glass. The color is limpid pale gold; the bouquet features green apple, pear and peach with hints of yellow plum, limestone and honeysuckle. The back label tells us that the roussanne grapes were affected by botrytis, the harvest-time mold that occurs under certain weather conditions and concentrates grape sugars, making the grapes appropriate for dessert wines. In this case, the roussanne was given the minority influence in the wine, but since the residual sugar — the natural grape sugar left after fermentation in dessert wines — is only 0.16 percent by weight, well below the detectable level, the wine is bone-dry but imbued with extraordinary inner richness and broad definition of fruit. The point is that the wine exhibits wonderful tone and balance, a lovely dense, satiny texture, though acid is as crisp as an apple plucked from the tree and cleaved with an ax. At the end — you have to stay with me here — it’s as if the wine embodied two different sorts of floral elements: a little white astringent flower, high-toned and chaste, and a little white sweet blossomy flower, shy, sly and sensual (a sort of Lolita enters the convent wine), while the acid and limestone feel precise, chiseled. In a word: remarkable. Production is 1,830 cases. I rate the wine Exceptional. About $22.

So, next night, we had two fillets of steelhead salmon from Costco. At the local Fresh Market, I bought four heads of baby bok choy. This would be dinner. Preparation of the salmon could not have been simpler. Salt, pepper and lemon juice. Saute about a minute on each side on the stove in the trusty old iron skillet. Slide into a 400 degree oven for about two minutes, three at most. The result is salmon that is indeed cooked but with a layer of rosy rareness at the center. Such a salmon needs no spices, no sauces, no embellishment of any kind. Hollandaise would have been superfluous, “barbecue buerre blanc” or “mango coulis” an insult. These splendid pieces of fish, among the nobility of the finny tribes, were allowed to speak eloquently for themselves.

Similarly simple with the bok choy. Parboil in a very small saucepan, so the leaves stick out from the pot and get slightly charred by the fire. Then saute them briefly in olive oil and garlic and a squeeze of lemon. That’s it.

I wrote about the Landmark Damaris Reserve Chardonnay 2005, Carneros, from the well-known Sangiacomo Vineyard, a few months ago. Having another bottle on hand, I opened it to drink with the salmon and bok choy. Talk about marriages made in heaven! This wine represents everything that is best or can be best about chardonnay in California. It’s not Burgundian, but it’s marked by Burgundy’s elegance, balance and proportion; it’s definitely Californian in its bold ripe flavors, but it avoids the excesses of the flamboyant, tropical, dessert-like style of which the reviewers in the Wine Spectator are so enamored. Its richness and ripeness, its slightly brazen nature are tempered by vibrant acid, resonant mineral qualities and a tremendous sense of self-confident purity and intensity. It’s another Exceptional wine. Internet prices range from about $29 to $38.

Visit Bonnydoonvineyard.com and landmarkwine.com.

The wines of Vinedos y Bodegas Garcia Figuero — to give this estate its full name — are made of 100 percent tempranillo grapes, some of which derive from vineyards that date to the 1930s. For decades, the grapes from the Figueros vineyards went into the wines of other producers in the Ribera del Duero region in north central Spain, part of the province of Castilla y Leon, until the family launched its own winery in 2001. As far as this palate is concerned, it was a wise decision.

Yes, these wines age in French and American oak barrels, qualifying them for the often-used designation “new” or “modern” wines, in opposition, I suppose, to “old” or “traditional” wines, you know, the ones that aged years in large, ancient wooden casks or vats and emerged dry, austere and fruitless. I tend, as I have iterated many times, to be a purist about such notions of a region’s tradition and heritage, but Figeuros proves that we don’t have to adhere to tradition slavishly. Yes (again), the top levels of these wines display notable austerity on the finish, but that quality is preceded by rich, ripe fruit.

The least expensive of these four wines is the Figueros Roble 4 Months in Barrel 2006; the wood regimen is four months in 85 percent American oak, 15 percent French, all new barrels. The wine is lovely, seductive, bursting with grapey notes of ripe black and red currants and plums. The wine is soft and spicy, permeated by macerated and roasted black currant flavors that seethe with lavender, licorice and bittersweet chocolate. Drink now through 2010 or ‘11. About $20 and rated Very Good+.

The Figeuro Crianza 12 Months in Barrel 2004 begins to dip into the estate’s older vines; 80 percent of the grapes come from 20 to 40-year-old vines, the rest from vines that are 50 years old. This wine sees no new oak; the barrels — 90 percent American, 10 percent French — are two and more years old, so there’s no trace of toastiness or vanilla. My first note on the wine is “Wow!” followed a few lines later with “what great character!” The bouquet is packed with cedar and tobacco, the scents of black fruit both fresh and dried and deep rooty, minerally elements. Lordy, what a dark and intense and concentrated wine this is, etched with spice and bolstered by robust tannins that support ripe, roasted and fleshy black currant and plum flavors wreathed with wild berry. After 30 minutes or so in the glass, the tannins expand and grow, seeming to fill the glass — and the drinker’s mouth — with rigorous austerity. I would give this wine until 2010 and then consume it through 2014 or ‘16. Excellent. About $30.

Next is Figuero’s 15 Months in Barrel Reserva 2004, I wine that I found absolutely compelling in smoothness and mellowness, in balance and harmony. The grapes are all from 50-year-old vineyards. Despite aging in new barrels for 15 months — 95 percent American — the wine, like its cousin mentioned above, displays no trace of vanilla or new oak toastiness. Instead, the oak provides a sturdy framework, a permeating presence of spice that never becomes obtrusive. Mint, eucalyptus and cedar float above scents and flavors of black currant, black cherry and plum set into a lush, dense and chewy texture. Drink now through 2012 or ‘15. Excellent. About $55.

You will need patience for the Figuero Noble Gran Reserva 2004. The vines whence the grape derive are more than 70 years old, a factor that contributes to the wine’s extreme density, richness and austerity. The aging is sequential, first 15 months in American oak, then six months in French. It’s true that Noble 2004 emits beguiling touches of cedar and tobacco, mint and eucalyptus, but this is mainly about gritty tannins, polished oak and brooding earthy, minerally qualities that will require aging until 2011 or ‘12 to achieve company manners. After that, consume through 2018 or ‘20. It would be fascinating to watch this wine develop, though I say “would be” because only 583 cases were made and the price is about $160. Excellent.

The wines of Vinedos y Bodegas Garcia Figuero are imported by Quintessential, Napa, Ca.

… could be the first line of a “walked into a bar” joke, but really describe a pair of wines we drank with dinner last night and night before.

One must cook out on the grill on Memorial Day, but as I was preparing the hickory charcoal in the chimney — never, ever use charcoal lighter fluid! — the sky darkened considerably and the wind came up, shaking the trees. We had a couple of grass-fed beef strip steaks waiting for the hot coals. I said to LL: “Well, maybe the rain will hold off for half an hour or so. I’ll go ahead and light the fire.” The rain did not hold off for even three minutes, so I ended up cooking the steaks in the cast-iron skillet in the kitchen, which didn’t hurt them a bit, though they lacked that definitive, succulent charry edge that makes grilled meat so damned compulsively edible to carnivores.

And this is weird! Despite the fact that it was raining cats and dogs, I mean a real downpour, the charcoal stayed lit inside that metal chimney on the grill, continuing to glow and flicker eerily until it burned itself out. I had never seen that before. The magic of fire!

Anyway, I had these Spanish red wines I had been meaning to try, so I opened one to try with the steak.

This was the Pico Madama 2004, made by Bodegas y Vinedos Murcia in the Jumilla region. It’s a half-and-half blend of monastrell grapes (the French mourvedre) and petit verdot. The petit verdot ages in French oak, the monastrell in American oak, each for 13 months. This is a robust, powerful wine, but well-proportioned, not heavy, not a blockbuster. It’s ripe, rich and minerally, seething with smoky, roasted and peppery black fruit scents and flavors. A few minutes in the glass bring out the intensity of a tight core of moss and leather, gritty tannins, polished oak and vibrant acid; it’s a wine that feels alive in the mouth while not giving itself away entirely. The finish develops considerable dusty, foresty austerity. This was terrific with the steak two nights ago, though it could stand to age two or three years and drink through 2012 or ‘14. I rate it Very good+. Prices on the Internet are about $29 to $35.

Last night, I rustled up a little pasta by chopping some guanciale — cured pig’s jowl — and frying it pretty crisp, then using a bit of the rendered fat to saute diced onions and garlic. I cooked some halved cherry tomatoes with those for about a minute, dumped in the cooked linguine and a handful of fresh baby spinach and tossed it before dividing it into two bowls. Voila, dinner.

I opened the second Spanish wine, which turned out to be even better than the Pico Madama, but also proved to be too big and too complex for what was basically a simple pasta dish. This was the Tagonius Crianza 2002, Vinos de Madrid, a blend of 45% tempranillo, 40% cabernet sauvignon and 15% syrah, or as it says on the label, “shiraz.” Soon even producers in France’s Rhone Valley, the heartland of syrah, will be calling the grape “shiraz,” under the influence of its popularity in Australian red wines, mainly among American consumers.

Anyway, this is a wine made in a new style that manages to retain hold of the old-fashioned Spanish virtues of aloofness and austerity, though you wouldn’t know that at first. Initially, the wine is incredibly ripe, fleshy and meaty, packed with spiced and macerated black currants, black cherries and plums. It’s very dry, dusty, almost ecclesiastical in its ancient wood-like tones, yet this influence is balanced by an intense core of crushed lavender and violets, mocha and minerals; the wine flat-out smolders in the glass like a deep purple ember. After 20 or 30 minutes, the austerity of the tannins begins to assert itself in qualities like dried porcini, walnut shell and underbrush. This could hold for two or three years, or be consumed now through 2012 to ‘14 with steak, venison, barbecue brisket and such. Excellent. Prices range from about $24 to $35.

These wines are imported by Well Oiled Wine Co., Leesburg, Va.

NEW YORK –

Monday we ate lunch at The Green Table, a small, spare, almost zen-like restaurant inside the vast and fascinating Chelsea Market, on Ninth Avenue just at the northern edge of the Meatpacking District, which now, of course, contains more restaurants, clubs and boutiques than meatpacking establishments. It’s amazing! There used to be no traffic except for trucks and no people except for meatpackers wearing bloody aprons and their customers in this formerly quiet, way out-of-the-way neighborhood.

Anyway, Chelsea Market is a huge building that features myriad wholesale and retail food emporiums and restaurants. One of our favorite places is Buon Italia, a store that imports all sorts of foodstuffs from Italy. When we go to NYC, we always make it over to Buon Italia to pick up guanciale, coppa, panchetta and other cured meats. lime honey — great on my toast in the morning — and other items.

We stopped by The Green Table, an all-organic (but not necessarily vegetarian) off-shoot of The Cleaver Co catering group. LL had baked eggs with ramps and potatoes and a little salad, and I had macaroni-and-cheese, also with a salad. A nice lunch.

Now the glass of wine I ordered will, I’m sorry to say, have relevance only to BTYH readers in the Northeast. It was the Wölffer Estate Rosé 2007, from Sagaponack, The Hamptons, Long Island. This is a very spare, very dry rosé wine in the Provençal fashion, but there’s nothing Provençal about its make-up, which is 40% chardonnay, 35% merlot, 17% cabernet sauvignon and 8% cabernet franc. That roster of grapes raises the question: If the wine contains 40% chardonnay grapes, is it only 60% an actual rosé?

The estate was founded in 1987. Winemaker is Roman Roth, who has made wine in his native Germany, in California and Australia.

The wine, made, not surprisingly, all in stainless steel, is a classic pale copper/onion skin color. The bouquet offers notes of dried strawberry and and fresh peach with hints of dried thyme and wet rocks. The mineral quality intensifies in the mouth, while touches of pear and melon are added to the flavor spectrum, with more backnotes of dried herbs; the wine is vibrantly clean and crisp. This would be a great picnic wine, served with fried chicken, deviled eggs, ham, potato salad and such.

I rate the wine Very Good+. It costs about $15 at the winery.

Visit wolffer.com.

LL no longer eats lamb or veal, so when she is traveling, on one night I’ll often buy lamb or veal chops and sit down with a phalanx of red wines to try with some of my favorite meats. She was out of town recently, so I got three small but thick loin lamb chops, sauteed them simply with rosemary, salt and pepper in a dab of olive oil (in the good old iron skillet), roasted a couple of potatoes and dutifully steamed a handful of green beans, which I actually ate, I promise.

Looking through the wine shelves and boxes at home, I grabbed six bottles, not really thinking about place or origin; I just wanted predominantly cabernet sauvignon wines. Turns out that two were from the Columbia Valley in Washington State, one from Australia’s Padthaway region and three were from the Napa Valley. Or without thinking about prices, which turned out to range from fairly expensive to outright expensive. On the other hand, the wines were excellent. While with one exception the alcohol levels were all above 14 percent (and what’s not nowadays), the wines were balanced and integrated, with none of the flamboyant toasty oak or excessive ripeness that render so many contemporary red wines questionable.

What is it about lamb and cabernet/merlot-based wines that makes them so amenable, so fated, as it were, to a marriage made in culinary heaven? Lamb is fatty, ripe itself in the way that good fresh meat can be ripe, a little earthy and gamy (it’s “wilder” than beef or pork) and, in the way that great beef has, it possesses a mineral quality that the heat of the flame brings out. Wines composed solely or mainly of cabernet sauvignon or merlot offer, in their own vinous ways, very similar qualities: the richness and ripeness, the “fat,” the mineral elements. Sometimes I like pinot noir with lamb, but most of the time, give me cabernet or merlot.

These wines are mentioned in the order of tasting.

*The blend of the Matthews Cellars Claret 2004, Columbia Valley, is 55% cabernet sauvignon, 22% merlot, 18% cabernet franc, 4% malbec and 1% syrah. The color is dusky ruby-purple; the bouquet wafts a seductive strain of lavender and licorice, ripe, fleshy, meaty and dusty black currant and black raspberry. The wine is dense and chewy, smooth and mellow, packed with smoke and spice and minerals; after a few minutes in the glass, it opens earthy layers of underbrush and forest floor, polished oak and fairly gritty tannins. It’s a lovely red wine, accessible and delicious yet capable of aging through 2014 or ‘15. Excellent. About $32.

*Notice how the combination of grapes on the Matthews Red Wine 2003, Columbia Valley, is similar to the blend of the previous wine but without the malbec and syrah; this is 53% cabernet sauvignon, 26% cabernet franc and 21% merlot. The first impression is of an incredible and heady smoldering heap of bitter chocolate, mint and eucalyptus, cedar and smoke, potpourri, lavender and sandalwood. Then the fruit comes up in a welter of macerated and roasted black currants, black cherries and plums. It’s a high-strung wine, taut with acid, energized by minerals, but still dense and cushiony, lavish with firm oak and grainy tannins that gain power and substance as moments pass. Try from 2009 through 2012 to ‘15. 823 cases. Excellent. About $60.

*Made from 100% cabernet grapes, Henry’s Drive Cabernet Sauvignon 2005, Padthaway, delivers the towering heft and darkness of a softly cloaked monument. This is a wine of piercing purity and intensity, huge and vibrant, deeply imbued with dusty oak and grainy tannins and seething with earthy, mossy, forest floor qualities and a resonant mineral element that lends the wine tremendous dynamism. Fruit falls into the realm of rich, ripe and fleshy black currants and black raspberries with touches of mint and eucalyptus and toasted Asian spices channeling licorice and lavender. For all its size and complexity, the wine is beautifully balanced and integrated. Try now, served with barbecue brisket or chili-rubbed pork chops and such fare, from 2010 to 2015 or ‘16. Case production was 1,150. Excellent. About $37. Great stuff.
The wines of Henry’s Drive Vignerons, which include Henry’s Drive, Parson’s Flat, Pillar Box and Dead Letter Office, are imported by Quintessential, Napa, California.

*Merryvale Vineyards no longer offers a “reserve” designation, under which this wine would previously have fallen. The level is now the “Signature Tier,” though that term does not occur on the label. In any case, the Signature Tier wines find a niche between the less expensive “Starmont” line and the top-of-the-line Profile and Silhouette.
The Merryvale Cabernet Sauvignon 2005 is composed largely of grapes that would have gone into the Profile, had Profile been made in 2005. Produced from 100 percent cabernet sauvignon grapes and aged 18 months in French oak, 32% new barrels, this feels like classic Napa Valley cabernet. It’s deep, rich and lush, dark as the night that covers us from pole to pole, a serious, intense and concentrated wine. The bouquet is woven from walnut shell and wheatmeal, mocha, cedar and tobacco and — give it a few minutes — aromas of tightly wound black currant and black cherry. The wine is huge in the mouth, notably tannic , earthy and minerally, bursting with spice, and yet for its size, it delivers a remarkable degree of finesee; it’s almost light on its feet. Of this group of wines, it’s the one that cried “Rib-eye steak, please, hot and crusty from the grill!” Drink 2010 through 2015 or ‘16. Excellent. About $50.

*My first note on the Bourassa Vineyards Symphony3 Proprietors Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon 2004, Napa Valley, is “Wow, what a mouthful of wine.” This producer believes in strenuous oak treatment, as in three years in French barrels (no indication as to the proportion of new to used), yet the wine is immaculately bright, vivid and vibrant, deliciously smooth and mellow. Notes of ripe, meaty and fleshy black currants, black raspberries and cherries teem in the glass, well-laced with smoke, spice and potpourri. Earthy, minerally tannins feel finely milled, as if they had been ground between giant rollers of iron-flecked velvet, while oak is powerful and polished and a tad debonair. This is, in other words, a wine of lively contrasts and happy resolutions. Best from about 2010 to 2015 to ‘18. Cases produced: 500. Excellent. About $60.

*Three years in French oak is also the regimen for the Bourassa Harmony3 Red Wine 2003, Napa Valley. The blend is 56% cabernet sauvignon, 23% malbec and 21% cabernet franc; the alcohol level is a mild-mannered 13.5 percent. What an absolutely lovely, vigorous, palate-pleasing red wine, pure pleasure! It offers wonderful balance and integration, great breeding and character, classic equilibrium of power and elegance, each element essential and inevitable. Yes, it does get pretty smacky, minerally and foresty on the finish, just as it should. I won’t say that I would choose this wine over the others on this page, because they’re all tremendously enticing, filled with depth and detail, yet this one seems special. Cases production: 450. Excellent. About $48.