Castor Membership February 2023: Doing the Wave and “Fruity”: A Critical Symposium
The atmospheric city of Verona’s equally atmospheric Roman amphitheater.
“Doing the Wave”
Roccola Grassi Soave “Broia”, Veneto, Italy 2020
While I don’t profess to be the most globetrotting member of the wine community, I have been to my fair share of places along this journey, and I have to say that one of my top contenders for the title of “most atmospheric city” has to be Verona, in Italy’s Veneto region. Besides being the setting for Shakespeare’s star-crossed lovers (giving birth to a time-honored tourist trap, the Casa di Giulietta, and its famous balcony that isn’t actually the balcony in Romeo and Juliet, but to which people annually flock just the same), Verona’s layout, particularly along the section of the city that cozies up to the Adige River, with its views out of town to picturesque hillsides dotted with villas and cypress trees, seems designed to conjure romance. Having one of the most beautiful, intact examples of a Roman amphitheater doesn’t hurt, either. The Teatro Romano sits astride a bend in the Adige, perfectly situated to capture the essence of the city and a stunning backdrop for performances, which it continues to host to this day. What follows is a brief reminiscence of one such performance that I attended, a magical evening for the sheer spectrum of events/emotions that were experienced, and either a ringing endorsement or a cautionary tale (depending on one’s viewpoint) of the wines produced around this historic city, particularly the stellar white grape Garganega, known a bit better by the name of its appellation, Soave.
Like so many things in life that we experience first outside of our vocation or livelihood, my story of Soave comes from when I was still a humble music student, working in hospitality at Starwood Hotels and studying wine but not yet a full-fledged oenophile. As part of a two-month sojourn in Tuscany, we also took advantage of our proximity to Emilia-Romagna, Liguria (which I hope to feature and write about later this year), Lombardy, and the Veneto, where we found ourselves one sunny, late-summer day, walking Verona’s timeless streets and eagerly awaiting an evening performance of Verdi’s Opera “Il Trovatore” inside the Roman Theater. Our professors, who at the program’s home base in Tuscany were looser in manner and enforcement than at university back in the States, took the weekend trips as an excuse to be, well, completely free living their best lives, or wholly ignorant of all responsibility and stewardship, depending again on your point of view. Personally, I loved seeing these grizzled warhorses of singing instruction get the chance to unwind and have a little fun; after all, we were all sort-of adults in our early twenties; we should be able to get along by ourselves, or at the very least remain alive until we met up in front of the Teatro at 7pm. And so, we (the saintly students) enjoyed our sun-drenched wanderings and a light lunch while they (the devilish authority figures) attempted to have as many glasses of the steely, superb Veneto white wine Soave at as many streetside cafes as they could manage in a five-hour time span, arriving at our gate for the opera performance in extremely fine spirits. As the sun dramatically set over the hillsides above the banks of the Adige and the first sounds of the “Il Trovatore” overture wafted up to our admittedly sky-high seats, we held communion as students and lovers of music, Verona, and Italy. That is, until the first drip of rain came. What was a drip morphed into a drizzle and then a shower and then a deluge, prompting a rain delay in the production. An experience that for all of us had been heretofore relegated to sporting events, we sat transfixed at the sight of the city’s sunset-pink sky harmonizing with a frightening black storm cloud, and the furious tumult of opera stars in awkward period costumes and frantic musicians in black tie formalwear, running for cover from the stage and orchestra pit-incidentally, if you’ve never seen an upright bass player attempting to run full-speed with his instrument to get it out of harm’s way, you haven’t lived. The storm shattered our stance of propriety and decorum; soon we were “Americans in Italy” again, and those same Soave-laden teachers who were supposed to be our chaperones had us replicating a ballgame rain delay from back home. At their insistence, we did The Wave by ourselves, standing and sitting rapidly upon the marble benches of the nosebleeds. One professor, a burly bass-baritone whom we’ll call Jan (because that’s his name), had a severe case of the Soave giggles and began translating the opera’s libretto for us from a pocket copy to pass the time waiting out the storm, using his brightest falsetto to voice the female characters to our great delight. Eventually, the rain eased, the storm clouds gave way to a sea of stars, and the opera together with our sense of wonder and youthful exuberance resumed. As we boarded our bus, having seen the sacred and profane play out in one magical Verona night, I sat next to Jan and said, “Tell me more about this…Soave.”
Vineyards of Roccolo Grassi in the Veneto.
It was admittedly years before I truly understood what makes Soave great-a fact due largely to the appellation’s predilection toward larger co-op production as much as Jan the burly baritone’s meandering explanation. In the mid-2000s, as I was transitioning into wine on a full-time basis, it was rare to see a bottle of Soave that wasn’t made by mega-producers Pieropan or Anselmi, and even now my younger self’s hot take of “you can find good Soave anywhere but can’t find great Soave anywhere” seems to still border on unfortunate truth.
Grown east of Verona, on fertile hillsides where the allowable yields are often staggering, the trio of Soave appellations (the overarching Soave, centrally concentrated Soave Classico, and the mandated hillside vineyards of Soave Superiore) make a showcase of the grape Garganega, a nervy, earth-driven varietal that nonetheless features a roundness of body that gives the appellation its name (Soave is a cognate of suave, but derives literally from Latin meaning “sweet or pleasant”). The Garganega is required at a minimum of 70% in the Soave appellation, where it can legally be buttressed by Chardonnay and Verdicchio, known locally as Trebbiano di Soave; some of the best examples I’ve had, however, skip the wide-bodied flavors of the blending grapes and feature the Garganega in full. Even though it is the Veneto’s most voluminous DOC, finding great Soave can still sometimes feel like an insider’s secret; at its best, Garganega offers a wealth of complexity, with wonderful acidity and tension, fruits that oscillate from yellow apples to preserved lemons to bright peaches and back in the same glass, aromatic varietal spice and floral characteristics, and a round-but-clean textural mouthfeel that always seems to summon the urge to tip the bottle once more in your direction. My search for Soave for GWC has yielded some very good wines, but none struck me as truly great, and I wanted to find something more artisanal in terms of production volume as well. Luckily, I recently was sampled by a local VA importer on a producer that fit more into what both he and I were looking for…truly great Soave, produced from single vineyard sites, in a classic story of revitalization: the wines of Roccolo Grassi and its proprietors, the brother-sister team of Marco and Francesca Sartori.
The Garganega grape on the vine, Soave Classico.
Marco and Francesca Sartori’s family estate is all about terroir; the property’s very name, Roccolo Grassi, is the name of a single vineyard of red vines used to produce the winery’s dry red Amarone della Valpolicella. In 1986, the siblings jointly took over the family business from their father, and immediately began transitioning to a “quality over quantity” winemaking philosophy, with organic farming and a tiny annual production of 4,500 cases spread across all of their wines the result. Literally all of the estate’s cuvees are single vineyard offerings, meaning that only the best grapes go into each respective wine-there is no declassifying of grapes or “second wine” label to be found. Self-sufficient with the use of solar panels, the winery’s renewable energy allows Marco and Francesca to balance tradition with innovation: the winemaking process is completely temperature-controlled throughout, and they make use of the tiniest number of sulfites before bottling to ensure a cleaner, less manipulated final product. The La Broia vineyard is a scant 2 hectares in size, planted at a southeastern exposure at about 100 meters above sea level in rich alluvial and limestone soil. Experiencing the wines of Marco and Francesca for the first time, I was once again struck by Garganega’s versatility-the main grape of Soave DOC, in the capable hands of the Sartoris, produces a wine that is both lush and lean, equally at home in cold or warm weather, with food or without. A wine of pure pleasure that had me once again doing The Wave, although sadly I am fresh out of marble bench seating-D.
Roccolo Grassi “Broia”, Soave 2020
Country of Origin: Italy.
Places and People: Marco and Francesca Sartori took over Roccolo Grassi from their father in 1986. The estate is named after their vineyard of Amarone and consists solely of single vineyard bottlings-there are no declassified grapes or subsidiary cuvees or labels to speak of. The siblings transitioned their family winery to organic farming and temperature-controlled winemaking, and today the estate produces just 4,500 cases of wine across all of their labels combined. The “Broia” Soave comes from an all-Garganega vineyard of the same name, planted on southeast exposure at 100 meter elevation.
Soil: Alluvial (river-derived deposits) that are particularly rich with limestone.
Grape Varieties: 100% Garganega.
Winemaking: Hand-harvested; fermented and vinified under temperature control. The grapes for the Broia 2020 are pressed and fermented in 80% used barriques and larger 22 hectoliter barrels, with the remaining 20% in stainless steel. The secondary malolactic fermentation is carried out mostly in the barriques.
Aging: After vinification the Broia 2020 ages for 12 months in neutral Slavonian oak barrels (a larger size, with minimal surface area exposure). The wine is aged sur lie (with the spent yeasts left over from fermentation), emphasizing an already creamy, round texture. Finally, the wine is bottled and ages an additional six months prior to release.
Flavors and Foods: If you enjoy wines that are described as “minerally” or “mineral-driven”, look no further. The Broia 2020 gives off a flint-laden, stony aroma from the outset, tinged with high-toned lime and yellow apple. The old adage about European wines being driven by their sense of place first and foremost is evident here on both nose and palate; the Roccolo Grassi’s non-fruit descriptors are paramount. The fact that you literally can’t taste rocks does not dissuade the brain from tying the amazing acidity and Key lime citrus notes to the limestone soils upon which the grapes are grown. Golden delicious apple, white peach, and citrus zest follow the lead of the non-fruits and keep that round texture from becoming stagnant on the palate. Garganega’s trademark round, juicy textural weight is here, with present-but-pleasant diacetyl notes evoking salted popcorn or whole grains on the mid-palate. Bottom line: the 2020 Broia drinks bigger than it is, and tastes more refreshing than that body weight should allow-an excellent combination that makes it very versatile in thinking of food pairings: from aperitif to being served alongside grilled sardines in a confit of fuller, non-spicy olive oil; from large sea scallops in a garlic herb butter to a post-dinner serving of a rich and creamy-styled bloomy rind cheese, the Roccolo Grassi is eminently compatible.
Service and Cellar: I like to keep Garganega’s focus on the intense mineral drive and lemon/lime notes; accordingly, serve the 2020 Broia on the lower end of white wine cellar temp (48 degrees). As the wine warms the other flavors listed above (yellow apple, butter, whole grain oats) become more prevalent. Being that the family intentionally holds their wines back at the winery prior to release, the 2020 is the current vintage and has the bright acidity and round structure to drink well for 5-8 more years.
The Columbia Gorge sub-appellation of Columbia Valley, Washington State.
“‘Fruity’: A Critical Symposium”
Secret Squirrel Cabernet Sauvignon, Walla Walla, Washington, USA 2017
Read enough wine tasting notes, whether written by old-school critics, new-age scribes, or amateur reviewers, and you’ll come across some flowery language that will leave you smirking, ranting, or genuinely amazed that someone was able to use “balsam wood” and “myrtle berry” in the same sentence, and that said sentence was actually meant to be an accurate depiction of something you drink from a glass. When I was working as a sommelier in restaurants, some of my colleagues and I had a joking phrase we would banty about when we encountered overly banal wine language: “Critical Symposium”, amusing ourselves endlessly with emails or texts like, “Join us this Sunday as we present ‘Yellowtail Shiraz: A Critical Symposium’, or “The Merits of Using the Pepino Fruit in Tasting Notes: A Critical Symposium”. It was our way of teasing this tedious aspect of our profession and, to paraphrase the Brits, “take the piss” out of both us and sommeliers in general; in short, our joke served to remind us that our job was one of service and not sanctimony, that the Alpha and Omega of being a sommelier should be hospitality. We often would send each other made-up tasting notes that, it should be noted, looked shockingly similar to some of the real ones you’d see in the most well-known wine publications.
Now, to be fair: writing tasting notes is difficult, and especially in the months that I’ve been writing for you all, I have experienced those difficulties of balancing specificity, approachability, and…well, REALITY in my account of a wine’s merits. It’s hard not to go overboard at times, especially when you’re quite passionate about the bottle in front of you, or if the wine suggests something so special to your own memory that you feel compelled to include it, unsure if it will be relatable or well-received. I usually try to be very honest in my tasting notes, including these sometimes unique-to-me references because I believe it to be more authentic, avoiding the bombastic prose of some large-scale critics. For all of the balsam woods and myrtle berries, however, I think the most challenging word used in wine writing is actually one of the simplest: Fruity. To further explore the essence of this lightning rod of wine discourse, I wanted to explore a region that leads us straight to the pot of gold that is all things “fruity”-Washington State’s Columbia Valley.
Lauri and Michael Corliss’ daughter, Katie Davis. Katie is now president of winery operations for all of the family’s properties: Corliss, Tranche Estate, San Juan Vineyard, and Secret Squirrel.
When I was training for Court of Master Sommelier exams, we were taught that as sommeliers, the word “fruity” was taboo. The phrases “fruit-forward” or “fruit-driven” were suggested instead, so that we wouldn’t be seen as advocating for wines that were over-extracted, crudely simplistic, or both. We used this to help with our deductive reasoning about wines from around the globe; “fruit-driven” gave us the ability to make connections between wines where the first thing you tasted was fruit (typically New World examples), as opposed to bottlings that were “terroir-driven” or “earth-forward” (typically Old World, European wines). I think, however, that part of the issue was that “fruity” was seen as a word that wasn’t SERIOUS in the way that sommeliers or the wines we recommend were supposed to be taken SERIOUSLY, and while still not necessarily advocating for the use of the word “fruity”, I’m not sure the terms we were told to add to our lexicon tableside were adequate replacements, or if the excommunication of “fruity” is even fair. Don’t we often read about wines being “earthy”? Isn’t “fruity” just the antonym in this context? Plus, while the “fruit-driven” vs. “terroir-driven” gives a consumer a benchmark and some sense of place geographically, it’s a rather huge generalization, and doesn’t really get to the heart of the matter: how to describe wines, regardless of origin (and there are examples throughout the wine world) that are unabashedly demonstrative when it comes to their fruit flavor. One thing that shouldn’t happen is for “fruit-forward” (or whatever moniker we’re going to use) to become a derogatory term. Just as my overarching reason to purchase and support a particular wine derives first and foremost from the wine’s quality in the glass, so a winemaker’s overarching aim should be to reflect the terroir/climactic influences they’ve been given, not fight what is occurring naturally in the name of emulating another region, style, etc. If your vineyards give you earth-driven, low-alcohol wines, please, make those wines. If, on the other hand, the place where you live is prime breeding ground for unctuous, fruit-driven bottlings, embrace it. Enter Washington State, and the Corliss family.
The picturesque Red Mountain AVA, where Corliss’ vineyards are located, and from which some of the fruit for Secret Squirrel is derived.
It is still somehow difficult for me to visualize a place with the same latitude as Bordeaux and Burgundy as a desert, but yet there Eastern Washington stands, sporting incredibly hot summers in areas classified as both arid and semi-arid, with up to 17 hours of sunlight per day in the peak of the growing season. Irrigation is a necessity here for the vineyards to survive; fortunately, the Columbia River is the 4th-largest by volume in the US, and its tributaries and aquifers are able to sustainably make moisture possible. Mitigating all of this are some of the largest diurnal shifts and consequent temperature fluctuations of any wine region in the world, with some days experiencing as much as 47-degree swings between high and low temperatures. Throw in the rapidly cooling days during the harvest that preserve natural acidity in the grapes, and you have a recipe for some lushly ripe red wines. Washington’s terroir drew Michael and Lauri Corliss to the Red Mountain AVA, a relatively tiny sub-appellation of Columbia Valley where the elevation of some sites helps balance the warm weather even further, and in 2007 they acquired the first vineyard plot for what would become Corliss Wine. Working with these sustainably grown, impeccably sorted and selected wines during my time at Michel Richard Citronelle in Washington, DC, I knew Michael and Lauri strove for balance in these admittedly full-bodied Cabernet and Bordeaux blends, and of their penchant for being incredibly particular about the fruit that went into their final cuvee. In time, they acquired additional parcels and properties, founded an amazing estate in the Blue Mountain AVA called Tranche and welcoming their daughter Katie back home to serve as president of all of their wineries’ operations. This growth allowed them to explore Rhone Blends and white wines as well, but never took them too far from their initial mission: hand-picked, hand-sorted fruit of a very high standard. Their additional holdings eventually allowed them to offer a second selection of Cabernet Sauvignon deemed too soft and supple for their upper-tier Corliss label, so the family and their team created Secret Squirrel. More than a simple side project, Secret Squirrel is consulted on by renowned oenologist Philippe Melka, known globally for his cult Californian wines from Tusk, Perfect Season, and Hundred Acre.
And the fruit? Well, as you may have guessed from this essay, it’s…forward…or driven…or…fruity? While certainly true that the Corliss team together with Melka have crafted a Cabernet that is quintessentially Washingtonian, with deep reserves of black and blue flavors and an ageability that you don’t often find in wines at this price range, the sense of balance in the wine, with still-present acidity and tannic structural backbone, allow this ripe confit of fruit to shine without seeming candied or cloying. To sum up this “critical symposium”, I think that’s what really stands out when speaking of a wine’s fruit-regardless of the types of fruit you taste or how present they are in the overall sense of the wine, if the fruit tastes GENUINE, and not reminiscent of manufactured or manipulated flavors (think a real pineapple vs. a popsicle), the wine will ultimately be seen and enjoyed as a reflection of its place. I have been looking for most of the past year for a Washington State wine to feature for Castor Members, and I am happy to present Secret Squirrel to fulfill the task its name intends: to be the Home Wine that you still squirrel away, holding in trust for those occasions where it’s just you and your chosen few-D.
Secret Squirrel Cabernet Sauvignon, Columbia Valley, Washington 2017
Country of Origin: USA.
Places and People: Michael and Lauri Corliss started their eponymous winery in the late 2000s, and quickly became known as torch-bearers for the potential of truly great Washington State wines, showing both New and Old World influences in their wines from Corliss, their second estate Tranche, and Secret Squirrel, whose fruit is derived from sites in the Columbia Valley, including some from the Corliss estate’s Red Mountain AVA location. Consulted on by legendary California cult winemaker Philippe Melka, Secret Squirrel is a selection of fruit considered excellent but deemed a little too soft and supple for the main Corliss Cabernet Sauvignon.
Soil: The entirety of the Columbia Valley sits on a sub-strata of basalt and volcanic rock, and the vineyard sites for Secret Squirrel also have top layers of ash, sand, granite, and silt (collectively referred to as loess).
Grape Varieties: 100% Cabernet Sauvignon.
Winemaking: Hand harvesting and hand sorting. Temperature-controlled fermentations in tank prior to aging.
Aging: The Secret Squirrel 2017 is aged in a combination of both new and used French oak barrels; the 22 month aging period will both contribute to the long-lived potential of this wine, and also for the need to aerate the Secret Squirrel to best enjoy now (see notes below).
Flavors and Foods: From first sniff the Secret Squirrel is no wallflower; a dense bouquet of black currants, cassis, blackberry compote, and non-fruit notes of cedar, cigar box, and charred oak await. What is gratefully not present on nose or palate is alcohol; the fruit-forward nature and ripe unctuousness of the 2017 really don’t allow the wine’s natural ripeness to become unpleasant. The palate brings back the dark fruits in abundance (blackberry reduction, black currant jam, and a little fresh blueberry as well which, as far as Cabernet Sauvignon is concerned, is a distinctly Washington State characteristic in my experience), along with flavors of blackstrap molasses, fruit-driven coffees, dark chocolate with sea salt, and the aforementioned cedar/cigar combination that herald the wine’s time spent in barrels. The finish is long without being out of balance; one feels the warmth of this full-bodied red, but the fruit is so fresh and viscous that the Secret Squirrel remains perfectly in balance. A “postcard wine” that embodies perfectly the essence of what Columbia Valley AVA is all about, which for me at its best means ripe, hedonistic dark fruit that still tastes like actual fruit and not some candied caricature.
Service and Cellar: The 2017 Secret Squirrel has 5 years in bottle and has the structure and barrel regimen to last another 8-10 years easily. Accordingly, do yourself a favor and OPEN THIS WINE EARLY. I cannot stress enough: a decant (or even just opening the bottle and letting it air) of one hour is, at this stage of the wine’s life, necessary to experiencing the Secret Squirrel as it was intended. Service temperature is, as always, also critical to a full-bodied, unctuous wine such as the 2017 Secret Squirrel-bring this bottle down to red wine cellar temperature (58-60 degrees F) to ensure you’re not needlessly accentuating the warmth of this deliciously ripe Cabernet.