Castor Membership June 2022: Mr. Benny Tutto and …It’s Complicated
A long-forgotten me sitting in with the jazz band at Tutto Bene Wine Cafe.
“Mr. Benny Tutto”
Reichsrat Von Buhl Riesling “Bone Dry”, Pfalz, Germany 2020
The best, not the most prestigious, but the best restaurant job I ever had was at a wine bar I worked at while attending music school in Bloomington, Indiana. A family who had recently moved into the area rented the second floor of an old meat-packing warehouse and created a mixed-use space that was at once a wine bar, art gallery, retail store with wine and food-related sundries, and music venue. Tutto Bene Wine Cafe and More was the name of the place, and the close-knit staff would affectionately call it “The Toots” or “Mr. Benny Tutto” (so named because we’d get calls all day long from intellectually-challenged telemarketers thinking the wine bar was actually named after a real guy, and that this guy would willingly name his establishment after himself with last name leading, like an elementary school roll call). The couches, tables, and all chairs that comprised the large open space were all made by local artisans and all for sale, as was the art on the walls. Like the plate your charcuterie platter arrived on? They could sell you that, too. If it all sounds kitschy, it wasn’t: I’ve said it many times to fellow wine professionals who invariably don’t believe me, but Tutto Bene (“Everything’s good” in Italian) was the coolest wine bar that I’ve ever been in: the eclectic art and furniture just somehow worked together, and the only walls in the large space were waist-high and put on casters, so literally the space could be configured in any way we wanted. Need to move everything to create a hole in the center of the room for a singer-songwriter performance “in the round”? Check. Want to move everything out and bring in circular banquet tables for a wedding reception? Got it. Need a rope-pulley gondola to pull down the outer hall, transporting guests into your Venetian Carnivale celebration? Done and done (yes, we did that, complete with dry ice for a grotto-like effect; it was truly epic in its cheesiness, and the guests loved every second of it). As I became more and more enamored with the world of wine, I started working there more frequently, eventually managing the place and hiring a crack team of fellow music geeks from school who, I must say, provided some pretty good service and, when the occasion called for it, a chorus of “Happy Birthday” that probably has never been equaled. We were young and although our ambition to create a truly global wine program would occasionally lead us astray, having a wine list in a small southern Indiana college town that featured selections from Lebanon, India, Morocco, Israel, Eastern Europe, and even China was great fun to procure, and a small peak into a future where economic development and climate would conspire to create opportunity in places long dismissed as vinous impossibilities. Young we may have been, but the more we poured (the by the glass list had 30-some odd wines on it and we’d flip it completely out each month for new selections), the more we learned. Our voracious desire to try everything had us ahead of the curve on some wine trends; we even knew about German Riesling that was dry or off-dry rather than sweet, which unfortunately put us in a minority camp in the Midwest circa the mid 2000s. And the reason we knew about it was “The Saxophone Bottle”.
Von Buhl’s Maria Schneider “Jazz” Riesling label.
When I worked at Tutto Bene we started hosting live jazz on Wednesday evenings each week; the warehouse space’s concrete floor and forgiving acoustics made for a pleasing sound and meant that the horn and reed players’ melodies went out into the room effortlessly, and only the keyboard and bass really ever had to worry about amplification. Live jazz nights were some of our busiest and we tried to find wines with music themed-labels or names to serve alongside the tunes, none more apt than the “Maria Schneider Jazz” Riesling from Reichsrat Von Buhl in the Pfalz; named for the famed bandleader, the wine was slightly off-dry but meant that, at the time, it was drier than 99% of Riesling available in our market, and we would regularly blow the minds of wine novices with the fact that yes, Riesling didn’t have to taste like a confectionary treat, and yes, it could in fact be bursting with rippling waves of acid that served to both enliven your palate and keep you reaching for more: more food, more Riesling, more everything. Lower alcohol levels relative to other grape varieties meant that you could reach for more longer, and the “Jazz” riesling maintained a well-earned place in our program for a long time. Even when we no longer poured it by the glass, we still kept bottles on hand and placed them on our display rack beside the bar, forever tying the Von Buhl winery and Tutto Bene in my mind. Unfortunately, Von Buhl no longer produces the “Jazz” cuvee among their lineup, but when I got the chance this year to re-introduce myself to the winery, I was delighted to snap up the last cases of another of their offerings for this month’s Castor membership: the Bone Dry Riesling.
The Vineyards of Von Buhl in the Mittelhaardt, Pfalz, Germany.
Arguably the most exciting wine region in Germany today, the Pfalz is inarguably the sunniest and driest part of its area, bordering France in its southern tip and extending to just south of the city of Mainz in its northerly edge. A picturesque place that forms a triangle with the major cities of Frankfurt and Stuttgart (Frankfurt north and east, Stuttgart southeast), the Pfalz uses the climate to its advantage in cultivating one of the more diverse wine portfolios in all of Germany’s wine regions. Riesling still dominates, especially in the Mittelhaardt where Von Buhl is located, but the broader Pfalz is home to other white varieties and increasing amounts of red wines as well. The overarching trait of Pfalz Rieslings when compared to their Mosel or Rheingau counterparts is the increased body and ripeness of fruit-notice I don’t say sweetness of fruit, as the increased body weight and alcohol levels of Pfalz Rieslings are typically vinified to dryness and come with acidity that hurtles the wine along your palate like it’s very late for a meeting. Founded in 1848, Reichsrat Von Buhl has long been a standard-bearer for quality in the Pfalz from their home village of Deidesheim, and today the winery is certified organic and still making delicious wines under current winemaker Gregor Hofer and newly-appointed Managing Director Dennis Geller. For those who haven’t ventured to try Riesling because you’d prefer the citrus flavors of Sauvignon Blanc or other like-minded white grapes, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance with Pfalz riesling; the Bone Dry from Von Buhl has some stone fruit but mainly deals in the same lemon/lime notes that seekers of world-class refreshing white wines covet, and putting this winery back on my palate’s radar after so many years has been a great reminiscence, one I’m sure that even Mr. Benny Tutto, if he did in fact exist, would approve of-D.
Reichsrat Von Buhl Riesling “Bone Dry” 2020
Country of Origin: Germany
Location: Von Buhl is located in the village of Deidesheim, in the Mittelhaardt section of the Pfalz. Southwest of the city of Mannheim, the estate has been in existence since the mid-19th century and been in the conversation of top German producers since its establishment.
Soil: sandstone, with sections of limestone, loess (wine-borne sediment of silt and loam with some clay), and clay.
Grape Varieties: 100% Riesling.
Winemaking: Organic viticulture. The Bone Dry Riesling is fermented in stainless steel on the full lees (yeasts) for about six months, without any fining or other intervention. Ever fans of dry wines, Von Buhl goes well beyond the legal German definition of a “dry” wine at 9 grams per liter of residual sugar, and makes the Bone Dry at 0-4 grams per liter depending on the vintage, resulting in a beautifully bracing example of the Riesling grape.
Aging: The wine is then bottled several months after fermentation is complete, bringing the overall process to just over a year.
Flavors and Foods: A vibrant nose of bright green apple, Preserved lemon, lime juice, petrol from the slate soil, and rolled oats. The Palate continues with the green apple, but the more generic lime from the nose has morphed into Kaffir territory, and there’s also Asian pear and kiwi as well. Spritz aplenty on the palate, with a light hint of the petrol/mineral note so often tied to German Riesling. The lemon/lime combination takes over mid-palate and leads to a very clean, easy finish even at the (for Riesling) elevated 12.5% ABV. The Von Buhl Bone Dry 2020 is a versatile pairing wine, with lemon roasted chicken, chicken apple sausages, or Vietnamese dishes like lemongrass vermicelli or shrimp with tamarind sauce all excellent menu options. The Bone Dry could also be enjoyed with chevre or other bright cheeses such as bloomy rind Fromager d’Affinois.
Service and Cellar: The 2020 Von Buhl Bone Dry Riesling is excellent now and should remain in its prime for 2-3 years. Service temperature calls for the lower end of a white wine fridge’s capabilities (high 40s or the spritz becomes too intense), or you can pull from a fridge and set out at room temp for about 20 minutes. If you’re a huge fan of citrus over tree and stone fruit, I’ve noticed the longer you leave the wine out, the more prevalent the lemon and lime notes become.
Sunset in the vineyards of Kaesler.
“…It’s Complicated.”
Stonehorse by Kaesler Shiraz, Clare Valley, Australia 2018
My foray into having a wine career came while I was still at school some twenty years ago, and during this time Australian Shiraz was in its heyday. Urged on by ever-warmer summers and wine critics who exalted bombastic alcohol and saccharine levels of jammy fruit at the expense of, well, everything else, many wineries in Australia become newly minted cult classics, producing small bottlings of out-of-balance, alcohol-swept Shiraz that tasted like someone ran your favorite brown spirit through a puddle of blueberries. At the time my palate was younger and embraced the initial wave of these types of Shiraz until, when enough wine experience had shown me the virtue of subtlety over capaciousness, I begged for a market correction to occur. But even I at my most vitriolic hatred of syrupy Shiraz would not have wished the fate of Australia’s wine market on anyone: a seemingly endless series of calamitous weather events (fires, extreme heat) and poor vintages followed by a global palate trend towards more forgiving levels of alcohol and fruit resulted in all but the hallowed greats of Australian wine (Penfolds, d’Arenberg, etc.) becoming obsolete on the elite wine lists of the world. Australian wines quickly became what people looked to as bargain basement selections, the sort of thing you might see being served wayyy too warm for $15 a bottle on a pizza place’s menu in Oxford, UK (a personal example for my wife and I, memorable for all the wrong reasons). On the bright side, during my time studying for sommelier tasting exams, the bright shock of blue fruit followed immediately by the tell-tale herbal notes of eucalyptus and menthol (like Vick’s Vapo-Rub had been liquified) invariably meant that I could blind taste Australian Shiraz to perfection-I almost never missed it. So, my current relationship with Australian Shiraz? …It’s complicated. In all seriousness though, Australia is one of the great wine countries of the world, and their wines should-should, mind you-have a place among the world’s best. At the same time, I find myself tasting them, particularly at more approachable price points, and lamenting the fact that they could and should be more balanced, with more authentic, fresh-tasting fruit…just better. Recent tastings have yielded some relics of the overblown era of Aussie Shiraz, along with some newcomers whose wines I respected but just didn’t quite hit the mark for GWC. With this background, it was with more than a little trepidation that I asked to try the “entry level” wine from noted Barossa Valley producer Kaesler, bottled under their Stonehorse label, and to my surprise discovered a wine whose blueberry fruit was present but in check, with the trademark herbal notes either faint or nonexistent. I wrote in my notes “my kind of Aussie”-a pretty fair compliment given our complicated past.
The cellar of Kaesler in Barossa Valley, South Australia.
Kaesler has long been a leading producer in Australia’s famed Barossa Valley, where over half of Australia’s wine is produced and the location of so many iconic estates. Kaesler’s winery is a close neighbor of Penfolds, and they also feature some high-end bottlings of Shiraz that come from very old vines yielding tiny amounts of concentrated fruit. When considering the Stonehorse, however, and by extension the lower end of the price scale for Shiraz, the key factor for me is that the 2018 vintage is actually mostly produced from estate vineyards in neighboring Clare Valley. Clare Valley is the yang to Barossa’s yin; the region boasts higher elevation, leading to more extreme diurnal temperatures, a feature that preserves the acid in the famous Rieslings produced here. In addition to the white wines, the Shiraz and Cabernet planted in Clare are noticeably less ostentatious than their Barossa siblings, and often it’s the structure and non-fruit characteristics of these more balanced reds that jump out on first taste. The Stonehorse Shiraz is mostly Clare Valley fruit (the Australia GI appellation system requires an 85% ratio of grape or location in order to be named on the label), and as such eschews the more grandiose extremes of this varietal in this particular climate. Produced from vines that are up to 56 years of age, you just don’t normally see a wine this composed and assured that I could use for the Castor membership, and yet the Stonehorse made it easy for me to be enthusiastic. My new take on the state of Australian Shiraz? At least for this particular wine, dare I say, …It’s Simple-D.
Stonehorse by Kaesler Shiraz, Clare Valley 2018
Country of Origin: Australia
Location: Clare Valley, South Australia. As I mention in the essay, the Clare Valley is both higher and cooler than nearby Barossa. Kaesler owns vines in both the Polish Hill and Watervale subzones of the appellation.
Soil: Red loam overlaid by clay.
Grape Varieties: 100% Shiraz.
Winemaking: Manual pruning and harvesting. There is skin contact on the Stonehorse for 10 days and 2 days of racking, although luckily it does not oxidize the fruit.
Aging: Another key to the Stonehorse 2018’s sense of balance is the decision to use 4 year old barrels for the aging, thus not having overtly oaky flavor profiles as part of the equation. The 2018 vintage spent 13 months in these older French oak casks.
Flavors and Foods: Vibrant purple color, but not as inky as you’d expect-the first sign that you’re dealing with a slightly more even-handed example of Shiraz. Fresh blueberry compote on the nose, along with rubarb and a hint of fresh sage. The palate sees plenty of the blueberry continue, but with a delightful addition of dark cherries and black raspberry also. Varietally-driven spice notes of pepper, cardamom, and nutmeg are right there with the fruit, along with a touch of vanilla. The fruits and spices give something of a pie-type element to the flavor profile of the wine, but think artisanal-made, low filler, more fruit. The overall texture is soft and silky, with tannin level really not a factor and the finish again mitigated in comparison to other Australian Shiraz. The relatively lower ABV of 14% (compared to 14.5-15.5 in Barossa) renders the wine almost mild on the attack and very linear on the palate (by that I mean it doesn’t hit the sides of your mouth but rather runs down the middle). Fresh, delicious, and eminently drinkable Shiraz. Pair with grilled gamey meats (coal or wood-fired lamb, ground venison burgers, smoked spare ribs) or take a leap on my pie-related tasting notes above and make this wine a sneaky dessert pairing in lieu of out-and-out sweet options.
Service and Cellar: Don’t let the lower relative alcohol level fool you; this is still Shiraz, and even at 14% the Stonehorse 2018 needs to be served at red wine cellar temperature (58-62 degrees). The closer to room temp you are, the more you feel the warmth in the finish, and it throws the whole wine off balance. The Stonehorse drinks like a wine made to be enjoyed in the now-I think it’s tasting brilliantly at the moment and will be in this spot for another year or two, but this is not a wine to be cellared extensively-luckily, its deliciousness should easily deprive you of your discipline.