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Dinner
in Winnemucca -
“Would you like the free glass of Burgundy that comes with your
meal?” sang the smiling waitress in her unique country twang. I hesitated for
just a moment, processing the information before me. I had been driving for
eight hours, wife and kids in tow, before hunger forced a stop in Winnemucca,
Nevada. After a few laps on the main drag searching for something other than
fast or casino food, we settled on an unpretentious dinner house advertising
Basque food. The bar was smoky, and the Formica tables were draped with
Windex-safe vinyl tablecloths. We’d arrived just as they opened for dinner and
were the only customers in the dining room, so I did not have the chance to
sneak a peak at the food or even the glassware for clues of what they had in
store for us. It occurred to me to question her about the wine, but I
didn’t.... I knew the “Burgundy” she graciously offered me had never
crossed an ocean. In fact, it was probably “imported” from a tank farm in
Modesto, CA. Expecting the worst, I looked her straight in the eye and said,
“We would love some!” Maria
ordered lamb shank, the kids shared a pork chop and fried shrimp, and I ordered
the Basque sampler dinner. Before we even regained our composure from handing
the waitress our menus, a big, glazed earthen bowl filled with cabbage soup
landed on our table. The aroma wafted up and immediately generated responses
from all parties. Our three year old gleefully squealed, “Yummy soup!” as
our five year old predictably yelled, “Yucky!” Maria grabbed a ladle and
began doling it out. As she ladled, she stuck her nose into the steam. A look of
surprise came across her face, “It’s made with homemade stock,” she
exclaimed, “and it’s good!” It
was not the last surprise of the evening. The waitress returned with a carafe of
red wine and two glasses. My expectations were low as she filled the Libby
glassware to the brim, but the wine was as unpretentious as the restaurant, and
it was perfectly good in this context! Big fruit and low acidity and tannin made
it an ideal match for the cabbage soup. Then the food really started coming... a
stainless steel bowl of dressed salad landed on the corner of the table followed
by a platter of hand cut French fries made from local potatoes. The kids were in
heaven. Next came Maria’s lamb shanks. Two giant shanks came with one order,
and the lamb too was local - probably delivered by the local shepherds who were
now indulging in happy hour festivities at the bar. The pork chop for the kids
was perfectly cooked and well seasoned. Then my Basque sampler plate arrived:
two large meatballs in gravy, chicken in pimento, pork loin in pimento with side
dishes of beans, spaghetti in pimento sauce, and sautéed greens. It was a
glutton fest, and we were as happy as pigs in slop. And the wine worked with
everything! Now
it wasn’t that the wine was great; it just tasted good with the food.
Unfortunately, there was also a high probability that the wine was a heavily
manipulated industrial product that had very little in common with the rest of
the products served on this evening of surprises. What made the food so good was
that most of the items served were farmed nearby and made it to the table with
minimum manipulation. The wine, on the other hand, was produced to fit a low
cost price point, and purity was not a priority. What made the wine work with
the food was that it was simple. No tannin or oak to interfere with the pimento
seasoning of Basque cuisine, the alcohol was in check, and the wine had a
fruitiness that complimented just about everything that entered our mouths. What
it didn’t have was a sense of place, complexity, or finesse. But it didn’t
matter. The food was good and, after all, the wine was free. So
what was wrong with the “free” Burgundy? In this instance, absolutely
nothing. The price was right, and I knew what I was getting into; I accepted my
fate. But what happens at the other end of the price spectrum when the same sort
of technical manipulation that produces a simple Winnemucca Burgundy is employed
in making a wine that commands a dear price? Wine at a luxury price level needs
to do more than just taste good. It should taste like the varietal on the bottle
and exhibit regional character. As technology encroaches into wine, a
disconcerting trend can be seen. Cheap wines can taste good, and that’s
certainly not a bad thing, but expensive wines can become something that nature
never intended. Think Mary Shelley. Such wines can technically taste good, but
rarely do they become ethereal. Something always gets lost in translation, and
the first casualty is the connection a great wine should have with the land in
which it was grown. All
Pinot Noir should taste like Pinot Noir. Good Pinot Noir should taste like Pinot
Noir and show a sense of place by exhibiting regional character known as
terroir. Great Pinot Noir should taste like Pinot Noir, exhibit terroir, and
possess a certain sexiness that is as sensual as it is difficult to describe. The fashion today is for Pinot Noir to “blow you away” with power. These wines are larger than life with huge tannin, high alcohol, and big flavor. They are intense, and they might be interesting, but to me they don’t taste like Pinot Noir. This style of wine has more in common with the Winnemucca Burgundy than with a Pinot Noir of true regional character. Wine writer Dan Berger puts it well, “The score a wine gets ought to be a combination of how it tastes as well as whether it is a reflection of its varietal character and its region. Tasting good isn’t, in and of itself, a justification for praise.”
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