Sunday Supper: Vol. 1, Issue 1
Department of a Star: RIP Didier Dageaneau
10.5.08
Alas, the 1st installment of 'Sunday Supper,' has arrived. Before I become famous, I suggest you start following this journal now.
For a multitude of reasons, this Sunday Supper was a captivating event. Not only was this the 1st installment, the wines consumed demand respect. On tap this evening was a white that could go down as legendary--legendary in the sense of the current status of it's namesake. I mean, it's very, very good, but it's not even the top wine of the vintner‘s line. Didier Dageneau is the finest craftsman in the world of the Sauvignon Blanc varietal. Sarah Palin may think she's half of the country's greatest maverick, and yes the term gets overused, (it seems as though any CA Cab producer who "manufactures," a 100 6pk production, 98+ point wine is a "maverick," in Robert Parker's eyes.) but this dude was straight legit. I state was because Dageneau recently died in a plane crash a few weeks ago. He was at the height of his success, passing not too long after an amazing year for all of the Loire in 2005 (his '06's were recently released I believe, in the knick of time sadly no less).
His production, though I don’t know the exact amount, was already relatively small. From my understanding, he owned less than 40 acres. While he does have family members who help tend to his treasured vines, who knows what will happen? Many wine geeks weren't willing to take the risk, and across the country, if not the globe, have stocked up on his vinous juice. Guilty as charged here. I was able to secure several bottles of three of his more readily available single vineyards. I simply couldn't bear popping open his Silex, yet. I only have 3 bottles for god's sake. Did you read what I wrote? Who knows what will happen!?! One at a time. I mean, I love my folks, but we have to walk this skinny path slowly. My old man, to whom you could put a top-flight '82 Bordeaux to his lips would deem it "tired and bitter." The chance was just too high. The mere thought of his rejection, no matter the story, made me quiver with fear.
So I started at the bottom of the totem-pole with the Blanc de Fume 2005. I have to laugh when I type that. The "bottom of the totem-pole," in terms of Dageneau is like saying, shit, I dunno, Catalina isn't Oahu. I figured why stop there. How could I top off this guaranteed dynamite of an evening? Well, dessert would be inevitable. At least for me. So why not cap off the evening with a delicious Italian dessert wine. No, not Vin Santo. We needed something with some guts and richness. I decided on a recently purchased bottle of 'Scubla Cratis,' from Friuli. Friuli is honestly my favorite dry white wine growing region in the world, and being able to share a newly found, somewhat rare sticky was exciting.
Served up with the juice was grilled shrimp and veggie kabobs, as well as some bulgur. Now you may think that may seem like a simple dish for such a wonderous wine, but the thought of piercing shrimp to go with a minerally plush Sauvignon of this standard certainly made me drool a little bit. Not to mention I'm a huge proponent of simple dishes with killer wines. The dish doesn't need to be dramatic when the wine is dramatic enough. Like, you don't need an opera singer to backup solo acoustic Dylan man.
The second I arrived to my parents house I waltzed into the kitchen to kiss my father and pat him on the back. Shit eating grin on my face, knowing what I was toting in my wine bag was going to be probably one of the best wines popped and poured in bmore that evening. I waited all but 10 seconds to pass before I eased the cork out of the bottle, clinching my eyelids hoping and praying that the wine wasn't corked. No question I wasn't getting reimbursed on this bottle of wine. Realizing the wine wasn't corked, my shoulder muscles eased in relief, and I gave myself, and then my father a whiff. Damn. I had this exact wine a year ago and it wasn't as sultry and concentrated on the nose. So, speeding up to dinner.
Tasting Notes: Bay leaf, dried spring flowers aromas dance, minerals, some more minerals, and ripe lemons on the palate and the slightest hint of stone fruits on the impeccably elongated finish. Dry (and I don't just mean in comparison to sweet wines, as there are plenty of super oaked, late picked whites with more hangtime than Michael Jordan) whites simply don't normally have finishes this long, which may be the most amazing thing to me about his wines. Tactile, nervy, yet somehow as gentle as cashmere. What a freakish wine.
Oh, and the shrimp and bulgur rocked! Juicy and succulent. And how hilarious is this? A 'lil $50+ Sauvignon, and a 'lil Mrs. Dash make shrimp do sumpin' special! As my father (oh, not only is he the chef, he is also the editor for 'Sunday Supper') asked me if I was ready for my dessert, I, as I normally would never do, hesitated. There was still Dageneau left! "Yea, this white will go nicely with dinner tomorrow night." When I said that I wouldn't be able to make it for dinner two nights in a row, he simply smiled and said "I know." Um...I sputtered. I said "Oh, well I guess I'll just take the rest home." When my father made it known that it is rude to take a wine home after taking it to a guests home, I proclaimed "this isn't just any wine!" Dad then went on to say, with a near scowl on his tanned face, that editors have a LOT of power in the industry and I'd be best to not anger someone who has such control over my writings, and the beat of my heart. "Good to know you really enjoyed it," I succumbed.
The dessert wine was pretty ridiculously good too. Deep golden in color and lush in the mouth while finding a way to maintain freshness. That in itself deserves a high five. Throw in baking spices and fresh, not honeyed, fresh fig flavors. Yum.
Wow, what a way to kick things off then with then venturing into the venerable Didier Dageneau’s portfolio. And the fact that this is just the tip of the iceberg in terms of his amazing lineup, I cannot be any more excited for all future tastings and observations of his wines, may they rest in peace.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Sunday Supper: Introduction
Sunday Supper: Introduction
Nearly every Sunday I travel a long 3 blocks (sometimes I do drive, as it ain't easy walking with a decanted '94 Graham's Port, and of course it can look odd to ongoing pedestrians) to cap off a long work week by indulging in a wonderful dining experience. The food is always excellent, masterfully created by the head chef, whose renowned culinary quality is only known by those closest to him. The setting is always informal, but I do make sure to take off my hat once I get to the table. The experience is always enhanced by the warm surroundings, the caring and loving fellow diners, (of which the chef is included -- damned if he doesn't chow down on his own creations right?) and of course, the wine.
The location is my parent’s house. Don't blink or cock your head thinking I'm some mentally displaced citizen. These meals are some of the finest I have had to date, even if the pot roast stays on the menu a tad too long in the winter. And I don't even have to tip! My constant banter and jokes are better than any gratuity these folks could ask for. At least, I seem to think so.
Sunday dinners have been a tradition in my family since I can remember, and as I grew from a teenager to a young adult, especially when I started as a stock boy at a local wine shop around 19 years old, they gained even more importance. When most teenagers were gettin' all Anarchy on their 'rents, I was finally growing close to my father. Simply put, wine was bringing us closer together. While the food was typically always delicious, and the conversation grand, the wine held as the centerpiece. It took away any awkwardness I may have felt about any potential uncomfortable situations. "What's going on with school," was the typical question raised. Getting to take a sip of some solid Burgundy always helped ease the muscles in the brain before I had to give an answer. There were even times Sunday dinners have welcomed different female companions over the years, for the both of us. Luckily, dad found a wonderful lady a few years ago, who serves as my main dinner guest, and my best audience for all my comedic successes, and blunders.
This introduction will serve as a precursor to any and all future editions of 'Sunday Supper.' Hopefully, this will give you something of a glimpse of my own personal journey of understanding the grape, it's meaning for me, its growing diversity, and all that comes with it, unless of course, it’s corked.
In Vino Veritas!
bmorewineguy
Nearly every Sunday I travel a long 3 blocks (sometimes I do drive, as it ain't easy walking with a decanted '94 Graham's Port, and of course it can look odd to ongoing pedestrians) to cap off a long work week by indulging in a wonderful dining experience. The food is always excellent, masterfully created by the head chef, whose renowned culinary quality is only known by those closest to him. The setting is always informal, but I do make sure to take off my hat once I get to the table. The experience is always enhanced by the warm surroundings, the caring and loving fellow diners, (of which the chef is included -- damned if he doesn't chow down on his own creations right?) and of course, the wine.
The location is my parent’s house. Don't blink or cock your head thinking I'm some mentally displaced citizen. These meals are some of the finest I have had to date, even if the pot roast stays on the menu a tad too long in the winter. And I don't even have to tip! My constant banter and jokes are better than any gratuity these folks could ask for. At least, I seem to think so.
Sunday dinners have been a tradition in my family since I can remember, and as I grew from a teenager to a young adult, especially when I started as a stock boy at a local wine shop around 19 years old, they gained even more importance. When most teenagers were gettin' all Anarchy on their 'rents, I was finally growing close to my father. Simply put, wine was bringing us closer together. While the food was typically always delicious, and the conversation grand, the wine held as the centerpiece. It took away any awkwardness I may have felt about any potential uncomfortable situations. "What's going on with school," was the typical question raised. Getting to take a sip of some solid Burgundy always helped ease the muscles in the brain before I had to give an answer. There were even times Sunday dinners have welcomed different female companions over the years, for the both of us. Luckily, dad found a wonderful lady a few years ago, who serves as my main dinner guest, and my best audience for all my comedic successes, and blunders.
This introduction will serve as a precursor to any and all future editions of 'Sunday Supper.' Hopefully, this will give you something of a glimpse of my own personal journey of understanding the grape, it's meaning for me, its growing diversity, and all that comes with it, unless of course, it’s corked.
In Vino Veritas!
bmorewineguy
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