Castor Membership March 2024: The Spice Garden and Gamay My Way
The vineyards of Urzig in the Germany’s Mosel, where steepness of slope and depth of flavor ascend to a glorious, shared extreme.
“The Spice Garden”
Karl Erbes Riesling Spatlese “Urziger Wurzgarten”
Mosel, Germany 2022
I’ve written and spoken of my prevailing attitude that we all know more than we think about “good” wine tastes like; we just have to break the glass that encases our Insecure Wine Opinion Extinguisher and hone its powers on the nearest cuvee.
One of my favorite “Trust Your Palate” stories comes from the time my parents visited me at late chef Michel Richard’s Georgetown flagship Citronelle; I had been working there for several months already but hadn’t had any visitors in yet; for starters, my mom and dad lived out of state, and Citronelle, with its James Beard Awards and Relais et Chateaux status wasn’t exactly the kind of place where you’d tell your friends to pop over for a drink towards the end of your shift. However, not only did the powers that be fit my parents right in upon my request, my amazing boss and mentor Mark Slater insisted that they actually come in the following evening, when I would be off work and permitted to dine with them. Getting to sit in Citronelle as a staff member wasn’t necessarily rare, but more like a rite of passage-you got to experience the things that made where you worked so special to so many, and you experienced this with the tacit understanding that once you’d done it once, you’d probably not be doing it again for, well, a verrrrrrry long time.
The whole evening was remarkable; I was admittedly nervous and embarrassed at the outset for the fact that my seasoned colleagues were waiting on me, but they were having none of my shenanigans, and with the help of both time and the first few wine pairings with the tasting menu, I even managed to relax a bit, which freed me up from my neuroses long enough to see how my parents were making out. My mother, who when we were younger was famous for describing entire vacations by the meals we enjoyed, was obviously in her element. Which brings me to my dad, a guy who still talks about the time I took him to a movie theater with stadium seating where we could bring our burgers and whiskey inside to the reserved reclining chairs I’d secured. I love my folks, so I only kid here to reinforce the genuine surprise I felt when our 3rd Course arrived; it was a sake and miso-marinated sablefish, and the wine paired with it was a Riesling.
Now I know that as a sommelier I’m supposed to love Riesling unabashedly and go frolicking about singing its praises into the ether, but when I started at Citronelle I’ll admit that my feelings towards the grape were more appreciative than amorous; Riesling was the world-class flautist to whom I could listen play a concerto, admire their immense talents, and then exit the hall into the night, caring not a lick to hear a repeat performance.
That all changed that night at Citronelle, for as my father took the first sip from his glass, he stopped, considering what he was imbibing, and then asked me “THIS is RIESLING?” When I assured him it was, he said, “I had no idea Riesling could taste like this”, and then followed with, “It’s expensive, isn’t it?” I explained that on Citronelle’s list, the idea of “expensive” was relative, but that we only offered the wine on the tasting menu as a pairing and not by the glass, and it was on the bottle list for $150. “You can tell”, was his straightforward answer. Later in the meal, he again mentioned being able to really taste the quality of the wines. Maybe I’m wrong about this (and he reads these silly rags of mine so he’ll tell me if so), but I think that maybe for the first time my dad understood that he, a guy who didn’t give a hoot about the pretensions of “fine dining”, had an excellent palate-that you don’t need to be a stuffed shirt to have a seat at the table. I also think that, perhaps again for the first time since I’d started working in wine, my father truly understood what I did and what I was working towards.
In the years since our meal at Citronelle, my parents have spent a lot of time on the West Coast of the US and in their home in Wyoming’s Wind River Mountains, furthering their appreciation and love for fabulous ingredients. When they visit me now, my dad doesn’t hesitate to praise a wine when it’s right up his alley. With so many other grapes that capture my affections, I don’t know if I’ll ever love Riesling the way a “good sommelier” should, but it will always have a special place in my heart for helping to make wine between my dad and me something wine should always be: a thing to be shared.
To Riesling fans, these white letters are the Mosel equivalent of the Hollywood Sign- the steep grandeur of Urziger Wurzgarten.
In Germany’s Mosel region, named after the winding serpent of a river that flows through it, the village of Urzig stands at the northern edge of what would be described the Mittelmosel (“Middle Mosel”). Upriver from the regon’s biggest wine commune, Zeltingen, the Mosel’s arrival at Urzig signifies a slew of changes in terroir. The aspect of the vines shift more due south, the climate warms slightly with this prolonged sun exposure, and, perhaps most importantly, the famed Mosel slate soil experiences a unique adjustment: vineyards until that point are composed almost exclusively blue and grey slate, but Urzig’s vines are planted on weathered red slate and volcanic rock with a decidedly high iron content, rendering the ground beneath each plant a brick red hue.
From certain spots high in Alpine Provence and Portugal’s Douro Valley, to Spain’s Priorat and even right here in Virginia’s Front Royal area, I have stood-or leaned-into some of the steepest vineyard sites on the planet, and yet none of them hold a candle to the 70-degree grandeur that is “The Spice Garden”. The Wurzgarten vineyard, the village of Urzig’s most prized holding, looks down precipitously across the river to the village of Erden, and stands out for more than just its ruddy red soil-it’s pitch also makes it one of the most difficult vineyards in the Mosel to work, and the iron-rich ground and singluar aspect of the finest plots make Riesling from Urziger Wurzgarten truly unique in the region-a typical Wurzgarten bottle possesses a cornucopia of opulent fruit, with natural spice aromas and a fullness of body that contrast it with other famous Mosel wines.
Karl Erbes’ son and winery cellarmaster Stefan Erbes, who joined his father in 1984 and has been in command since 2002.
A standout winery since its founding in 1967, Karl Erbes makes Riesling from plots in Urzig and Erden. Karl’s son Stefan joined his father at the winery 40 years ago and has been fully in charge since 2002. Their Urziger Wurzgarten vines are up to 80 years old, and after fermenting in stainless steel and fuder (large older barrels) they age on the lees (spent yeasts left over after fermenation) until the following spring. Picked at the maximum amount of ripeness allowed for the Spatlese designation (90 Oeschsle, or 209 grams per liter-don’t worry this is dropped way down to about 76 g/l during the fermentation process), the Erbes Wurzgarten Spatlese has sugar, yes, but this is balanced with a firm control of the acidity and the vineyard’s trademark complexity: hardly a sip can be taken without finding new descriptors, from lychee to white asparagus and a host of others in between. The increased sugar makes for a decreased alcohol content, and at only 7% abv, the Erbes Wurzgarten is deliciousness made easy. It’s that “effortlessness from effort” that makes wine great; maybe I do love Riesling after all-D.
Karl Erbes Riesling Spatlese “Urziger Wurzgarten”, Mosel 2022
Country of Origin: Germany.
Places and People: The Erbes family has been a fixture in the villages of Urzig and Erden in the Mosel since 1967; Karl Erbes brought his son Stefan on board in 1984, and Stefan assumed total control of the winery in 2002. The famous vineyard “Urziger Wurzgarten” (the suffix “-er” in German means that the subject is “of the”, so literally this vineyard is named “The Spice Garden of Urzig”) is located at a bend in the river Mosel above the large wine commune of Zeltingen. The prime sites in the vineyard occur as the north bank of the Mosel winds due east-west, making the vineyards overlooking it face due south. The combination of warmth and the change of soil (see below) make for an expression of Riesling that is truly unique in all of the Mosel. The Erbes’ plot of vines in the Wurzgarten average 70-80 years old.
Soil: An iron-rich red slate that brings the vineyard its distinctive brick color; there is volcanic rock in the subsoil, also, reinforcing Riesling’s already steely texture.
Grape Varieties: 100% Riesling.
Winemaking: The grapes are hand-harvested late (“Spätlese” literally means “late reading”, and the grapes from this style hang longer and begin to lose water and concentrate their sugars) at the full 90 degrees of Oechsle that Spätlese grapes can be brought in with, and this fruit is fermented and vinified in a combination of stainless steel tanks and neutral large fuder (casks), so that when all is said and done the wine retains 76 g/l of sugar content, known as residual sugar. The alcohol runs on a converse relationship with this sweetness, meaning that the Erbes is only 7.5% abv.
Aging: The 2022 Urziger Wurzgarten is elevated for 6-10 months in the same vessles in which it was fermented.
Flavors and Foods: If you think you don’t like wines with sugar, keep an open wine and start right here with this. A wine that is complex from the outet, the nose of the 2022 Urziger Wurzgarten is mineral up high in the olfactories and fruit down below on your mouth-vibrant green apple with more slate than petrol, and a distinct spice note-cardamom pods, for me. As the wine opens in the glass, the scents soften and fade-I enjoyed the Erbes most when I poured small and came back to the bottle for more. The striking palate is the more exotic Riesling that the Urziger Wurzgarten is known for. Lychee, yuzu, guava, star fruit-the list goes on! The wine’s texture is juicier than other Mosel villages, and the amazing part is that the Spatlese level of sugar renders the finish so mild that everything I’m tasting is experienced by mid-palate, so the complexity is high with all of these descriptors happening in the first 50-60% of tasting prior to an enjoyable easy finish. The wine’s non-fruit also has slate/bracing cleanliness with some faint herbal/legumbre notes-white asparagus white bean, flat leaf parsley. When matching foods to the 2022 Urziger Wurzgarten, standard Riesling pairings apply, of course (spicy food, thai especially, along with Chinese food with orange and spice), but the opulence of Wurtzgarten and the legumes element lead me to crave more versatile savory options-sausages with white beans, rabbit with farro, crudo and sushi. If you celebrate Easter or Passover, trust the Erbes to cut right through the richness of many typical holiday dishes.
Service and Cellar: The 2022 Erbes “Urziger Wurzgarten is best served right in the middle of white wine service temperatures (50 degrees F). You don’t want to mute all of this complexity and flavor by serving it fresh from the fridge, but the wine’s pronounced acidity will feel a little harsh if the bottle warms too much. If you have ice you can place the wine on top of the cubes without submerging it, or keep the bottle out but in a covered wine chiller.
Vineyards in the Beaujolais Cru of Morgon, complete with cadole (a rustic building in a vineyard, usually built by the vigneron himself and historically common in Beaujolais and the Rhone Valley).
“Gamay, My Way”
Domaine Rochette Morgon “Les Micouds”, Beaujolais, France 2015
Have you ever discovered that a friend in your circle, whom you thought you knew well, had a skill that no one in your group of compatriots had any idea they possessed? And, infuriatingly, upon being confronted and queried as to how they could have possibly failed to display or even mention said hidden talent, the friend in question simply answered, “Well, you never asked”?
That’s Gamay.
Or perhaps more accurately, that’s Gamay the way it used to be presented to us here in the US, a frothy foment of fresh red fruit that had all the staying power of a celebrity marriage. 20 years ago, the idea that Gamay and its main area of residence (the region of Beaujolais France’s Burgundy) possessed actual qualitative nuance here in the US was a bit unheard of, and most of the noise that did break through about Beaujolais came from large distributors hawking the just-fermented, strawberry-and-bananas swill that is Beaujolais Nouveau, released annually on the third Thursday of November as a tribute to the finished harvest. I remember that larger negociant domaines such as Georges Duboeuf even offered Beaujolais Nouveau packaged in small barriques that the account could then tap themselves and pour that day by the glass-a novelty that has since gone the way of wine and food shipping health and safety regulations but in retrospect was probably more interesting/exciting than the wine itself.
The ferocity of fermentation at Domaine Rochette.
Gamay’s second act in the US got underway about the time I moved to Washington, DC. Thanks to championing by star sommeliers and wine shop owners, the Crus of Beaujolais, 10 villages that are deemed as producing Gamay of superior quality and can place their town’s name on the labels, started popping up slowly on wine lists and store shelves-customers began to familiarize themselves with, and even ask for, communes such as Moulin-A-Vent, Fleurie, and Cote de Brouilly. Still, however, the characteristics of the Beaujolais Crus were summed up in grossly simplistic sound bytes (I can still hear salespeople telling me that “well, Fleurie means ‘flowery’ in French, so the wines from there are very floral”) and it was rare to see more than one or two on any one menu (when I worked at Citronelle, that James Beard Award-winning wine program featured exactly one Gamay selection-more on that in a moment). It was progress, but for a Cru system that has been in place (with multiple reclassifications) since 1936, did we really understand what Gamay was about in the States?
Beaujolais’ location, the most southerly of any region labeled as part of Burgundy, is another factor in its own wines being criminally overlooked. Factors that cannot be blamed on Beaujolais are the singular isolation of the Gamay grape (it represents 98% of the plantings in Beaujolais and over 50% of what is grown worldwide) and the oversimplification of the area’s soil-the granite influence in Beaujolais is indeed important, but less mentioned is the fact that this band of granite subsides in the southern part of the appellation, and the over-generalization takes some of the shine off of both the 10 Crus (all are located in the appellation’s northern area) and the surrounding vineyards, which are allowed to be called Beaujolais Villages if the fruit is sourced from these northern-half vines. One issue that can, on the other hand, be laid at the feet of the wineries and the appellation itself, is the authorization in 1951 to bottle Beaujolais Nouveau, which resulted in the annual tradition becoming a fresh-fruited bloodbath by the 1970s, making fortunes and a household name for Georges Duboeuf but severely hindering the public’s ability to get past Gamay’s natural tendency to be overly generous with its fruit and light/medium across its structural elements, and that association of Gamay being a “playful” grape variety struck Beaujolais from the list of wines to be taken “seriously”.
The overall result of Gamay’s rise to a level of respectability, if not full-fledged prominence, was that it became painfully evident that the marketing of Beaujolais needed to be changed, and by the wineries and appellation themselves first. Even the venerable World Atlas of Wine’s latest edition remarks that Gamay from Beaujolais can “produce uniquely fresh, vivid, fruity, often light but infinitely swallowable wine”. Talk about playing into the narrative. In an effort to evolve Beaujolais’ perceived potential further, the appellation has been taking the show on the road-two years ago I attended an event in DC entitled “Beaujolais-Meet the Makers”, a panel discussion led by longtime DC sommelier-turned-consultant Erik Segelbaum, followed by a walk-around tasting. The event promised to discuss the future of Beaujolais and, to quote the literature, the “pioneering of its premiumization”. Quite the mouthful, and not likely to have them rolling in the aisles, but as I listened to the six Beaujolais winemakers speak with Erik about where they’ve come from and where they’re going, it occurred to me that this was the critical final step-Beaujolais had to show that Gamay can be a wine to reckoned with at an artisan, collectible level, and for me, the very element that could put it over the top is something that is almost never discussed when it comes to the Gamay grape: its ability to age.
The poppies line the border of the rows at Domaine Rochette.
I told you I’d get back to the Gamay on the winelist at Citronelle; that singluar sensation was a Cru Beaujolais from the village of Moulin-A-Vent by proprietor Jacky Janodet called Domaine de Fines Graves. It cost a whopping $35 per bottle when the average wine we sold hovered around $125. But despite any preconceived poo-pooing of Gamay that my mentor Mark Slater may have engaged in, this bottle had one thing going for it: it was a 2002 vintage, and this was 2008/2009. To have a Gamay with 5-6 years in the bottle felt novel, certainly at that time and even well after-even today, well-meaning wine directors feature umpteen Beaujolais but all of current release vintages. I’ve been meaning to do a Gamay feature for quite a while, but I wanted to show you what we in the trade have all been learning more and more-in the right hands, Gamay can be a library wine, like its Burgundian counterpart Pinot Noir, its “hidden talent” exposed. Enter Matthieu Rochette and his family’s estate, Domaine Rochette.
To make the fleshy and fresh Gamay be able to withstand some aging, you have to start with terroir. Enter the village of Morgon, where the overall flavor profile of the wines even in their youth is more powerful than many of its neighbors. The soil types in Morgon are quite variable, from fabled granite and volcanic-based plots that reinforce the popular Beaujolais narrative to vineyards planted on blue stone and clay-based Piedmont out croppings. The tiny, 1.28 acre (only half a hectare) vineyard of “Les Micouds” is one of the smallest and least known vineyards in Morgon that can speak its name on a label (“lieu-dit"). The soil in the vineyard is more loam (a poorly performing combination of sand, silt, and some clay) than granite (although there is granitic substrata), adding further uniqueness to an already intriguing site. Throw in Domaine Rochette, whose holdings in “Les Micouds” are of mostly 90-year old vines, and you’re speaking my language. Regale me with tales of Rochette’s pedigree (six generations of winemakers, organic winery that practices 100% manual harvesting and in-vineyard sorting of the grapes) and…forget language, you’re creating my culture-Gamay, Done My Way.
The wines of Domaine Rochette are always structured even in their youth, but with a little patience, a savvy oenophile can have their faith rewarded, and Rochette’s New Jersey-based importer has library vintages that have developed a cult following, showing none Gamay’s insipid strawberry and candied red fruits, but rather round, viscous red cherries and red plums, accompanied by a swath of earthy mineral on the mid-palate. The fruit is not meant to withstand hours being open; decanting is necessary for sediment only, and please no aggressive swishing or swirling of the decanter. What a thrill to be able to special order these wines into the market for you all.
Look, to be fair, I’m not saying that fresh, current-release Gamay is no good; in the right hands it’s a delicious, versatile wine. I’m simply celebrating the fact that Beaujolais is at last showing us in the US market its entire breadth of possibility, to include being a wine that is cellerable. So, let’s raise a glass to our annoying friend Gamay who, just when we thought we’d seen it all, decided to show us something we never thought it capable of, breaking through the noise and preconceived notions by literally just doing nothing, by just being allowed to be. If put in a similar situation, I bet we all could unearth some “hidden talents”, too-D.
Domaine Rochette Morgon “Les Micouds”, Beaujolais 2015
Country of Origin: France.
Places and People: Domaine Rochette is located in the Ardiere Valley in Beaujolais’ more prestigious northern half. The single vineyard “Les Micouds” in the Cru village of Morgon. Morgon as a whole is the second-largest Cru village appellation in Beaujolais and known for several lieu-dit vineyards producing more powerful wines, but “Les Micouds” is a tiny treasure of a vineyard at only 1/2 a hectare, and sixth-generation winemaker Matthieu Rochette’s vines in the parcel average 90 years of age, producing stupendous fruit in small quantities.
Soil: Loam topsoil (a mix of silt, sand, and clay that is more retentive than typical "great for wine” soil, but that works here with these very old vines) with a subsoil of Beaujolais’ trademark granite.
Grape Varieties: 100% Gamay.
Winemaking: Hand-harvested fruit from the organic vineyards is brought to the cellar and pumped into cement tanks that are topped off with CO2 to begin the famous carbonic maceration process (in carbonic maceration, the CO2 pressure causes fermentation of the whole-cluster grapes at an intracellular level, and also transfers tannin from the grape’s skins to its pulp, which highlights Gamay’s vibrant color in the glass-often the pressure of the CO2 will then cause the grapes to pop open. This process used to be a hallmark of Beaujolais Nouveau, but now is performed with higher-end wines and has even been adopted by regions in Southern France and Northern Spain to combat reduction and keep their wines fresher).
Aging: After 8-9 days of carbonic maceration, the grapes undergo malolactic fermentation and are then aged for 6-10 months additionally; Matthieu Rochette will typically age his single vineyard wines in large neutral foudres (wood casks), but with the “Les Micouds” he maintains the wine in stainless steel all the way through the vinifying/aging process, maintaining the freshness and secondary notes of this tiny jewel of a vineyard.
Flavors and Foods: The decision by Rochette to keep the 2015 “Les Micouds” in steel is evident immediately; no longer is this a fruit-forward Gamay, but one in which the fruit is side by side with the secondary characteristics. And that fruit itself is different, too: deeper, macerated strawberries, red plums, pomegranate-this wine tastes a more reminiscent of its Pinot Noir neighbors in the Cote d’Or of Burgundy than a typical Beaujolais. Granite/dark rock on the nose becomes a litany of earthy notes on the palate (dried herbs with sage being the most prevalent, roasted meats, a hint of mild smoke). The fruits meld seamlessly with these secondary characteristics and the wine’s structure is just so surprising for a Gamay-more medium-plus level across the board as far as tannins and body weight/mouthfeel. If you celebrate Easter or Passover, this wine will arrive just in time-the 2015 “Les Micouds” is a dead ringer pairing for roasted lamb, slow-cooked glazed ham or beef brisket, salmon with a heavier rub or non-citrus sauce (like being confited in pomegranate juice), and roasted chicken with potatoes and fresh leeks.
Service and Cellar: The 2015 “Les Micouds” has a rock-solid structure but that balanced fruit isn’t going to last forever; the cellaring work has been done for us on this wine so enjoy it now in this changing weather. Serve the Rochette at the lower end of red wine cellar temperature (56-60 degrees F).