Now THAT'S What I'm Looking for in New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc

Snap. Crackle. Pop.

That's what I'm looking for when I open a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. I remember my first bottles from Marlborough, and how they blew my tastebuds away with their clarity and clean lines. Then the aggression emerged--too much boxwood and cat pee, too much grass, too tart.

As soon as I opened the 2008 Drylands Sauvignon Blanc I knew I was in for a treat. Gooseberries, lemon, and herbs wafted right out of the bottle. After I drank it I checked my notes to be sure. My suspicions were confirmed. This is the most exciting New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc I've tasted this year. (suggested retail $17.50; currently available for $12-$22)

This wine snaps, crackles, and pops with life. The aromas absolutely bowl you over--citrus, gooseberry, herbs and--as it opens up--flowers. The intriguing floral note in the wine's aromas carries through in the palate, which is resoundingly tart and fresh, tingling over your tongue. A deeper, blood orange note creeps into the aftertaste. This wine represents excellent QPR, and is fully worth the suggested retail price.

This wine has the pizzazz to stand up to Mexican or other spicy cuisine. We had it with a Southwestern Tortilla Salad and its fresh citrus and herbal notes were lovely with the lively flavors of the food--and something wonderful happened when the wine combined with the cilantro. Somehow, the Sauvignon Blanc muted the assertiveness that cilantro can sometimes have, while keeping it bright.

If you see this wine, grab it.

Full Disclosure: I received this wine as a sample.

Are Wine Critics Born or Made?

I've always blamed it on UC Davis. I took their "Introduction to the Sensory Evaluation of Wine" course and I came out of it smelling green pepper in Cabernet Sauvignon and talking endlessly about currants and gooseberries.

Now I'm starting to wonder if it's genetic. ("Beaujolais Nouveau, Baby Nouveau," by bhollar)

My dad puts me to shame when he describes a wine. He smells all kinds of things--rhubarb, for instance--that elude me.

And I think my niece is going to put me to shame, too. She's thirteen. We were visiting friends in Paris and they--in true French fashion--offered her a taste of the delicious Chenin Blanc we were having with dinner. She refused, but did allow as how she'd like to smell it. I handed her my glass, expecting her to twist up her face and say "blech." Instead, she lowered her nose into the glass and made an appreciative sound.

I asked her what it smelled like, and braced myself for the response "wine." Her grandmother frequently has this response, and the child is, after all, thirteen and eats mostly white meat chicken and rice. What does she know of gooseberries?

"Citrus and meadowlands," was her reply.

I almost fell off the sofa. She pretty much nailed the aromas in the wine--and it's not because we text message each other about wine. Her parents drink wine but I think both would admit that they enjoy sipping it more than talking about it. And I see my niece once every few years--so I haven't contaminated her with winespeak.

I've been thinking about her response ever since and wondering if wine appreciation has a genetic component. That's not to say that education means nothing--I think it means a lot. But I do wonder now if both an interest in wine and the ability to taste and smell a wide range of flavors and aromas in wine also depends on your DNA.

I'm sure there's a scientific study somewhere that talks about this, but I want to know what you think. How do your sensory abilities with respect to wine stack up to your parents and grandparents? What about your kids? And if you have kids who smell wine, I wonder if they are less inhibited and more intuitive in their descriptions. As we age, do our minds tell us "there's no raspberry in that," whereas once our noses were screaming "berries, yum, berries"?

A Reminder About New Zealand Pinot Noir

Wine drinkers who love Pinot Noir and have to watch the bottom line can have a tough time finding good bottles for under $20. I'm not talking about searching for a $15 bottle of Pinot Noir that will rival a $50 bottle from Burgundy or elsewhere. My sights are set lower--I just want a bottle of Pinot that doesn't taste like liquefied raspberry jam.

This week I got a reminder that New Zealand can be a good source for such bottles, when I opened up a 2006 Catalina Sounds Pinot Noir from New Zealand's Nelson region ($18.93, Garagiste; available elsewhere for $19-$21).

This was a lovely Pinot Noir for under $20, one that managed to be open and lacy without being weak and insipid. And though it was fruity, it did not have the jammy intensity that I think can ruin Pinot Noir. Instead, the wine had raspberry and mineral aromas and flavors accented by a touch of earthiness that deepened them nicely.

For me, though, it was the texture of this wine that made it stand out. Texture is important to me when I drink Pinot Noir--maybe more than it is for most people. I want my Pinot Noirs to have a seductive silkiness of texture. This wine had it, the silkiness turning gossamer and airy in the aftertaste.

While the wine lacked the complexity to make it truly outstanding, this was a very good QPR bottle--and I would buy another vintage of Catalina Sounds Pinot Noir without hesitation.

And note to self: remember to check out the New Zealand aisle next time Pinot Noir is on the shopping list.

Checking Wine: My Experience with Virgin Atlantic

I don't know what possessed me to do it. While I was in London recently, my friend sent me a terrific bottle of 2003 Franz Künstler Hochheimer Hölle Riesling Auslese. What with one thing and another I never got to open it while I was there. You know me well enough to anticipate I wasn't leaving it in London, either. And the box it came so carefully packed in wouldn't fit in my suitcase.

So I tucked it into the center of my suitcase, checked it at the Virgin Atlantic counter in Heathrow, and hoped for the best.

The whole trip home I kept asking my niece whether she thought the wine was already leaking through my luggage. "Yes," she told me, before she turned back to her movie. Oh well, I thought philosophically, at least it's white wine. Good white wine, too. So I'd smell like apricots for a while. Big deal.

As we watched the bags careen down the chute onto the baggage carousel, tumbling and slapping into each other, I asked my niece one more time if she thought the wine had made it safely. "You're screwed," she told me with perfect honesty and a straight face.

When my bag appeared, I hauled it off the carousel and we both started patting it to see if it was damp. No sign of damp. I gave it a good sniff. No smell of apricots.

At my parents' house, I opened the bag, shuffled through my clothes and there it was--my bottle of Riesling Auslese, in pristine condition. I put it in the fridge and we drank it that night. It was delicious, with intense floral, honey and apricot notes, a rich, mouthfilling texture, and piercing acidity.

I'm not sure I would try this with a red wine, but I would definitely run the risk again for a lovely bottle of white like this one. How about you? Have you thrown caution to the wind and checked wine in your luggage--without bubblewrap and special packaging? Was it white, or red? And what were the results.

Oh, and thank you Virgin Atlantic. Your baggage handlers have excellent QPR in my book.

Wine Blogging Wednesday #59: Homage to Sake

Welcome to Wine Blogging Wednesday, the online tasting event dreamed up by Lenn Thompson of LennDevours. Today, our host is Richard the Passionate Foodie and his theme honors the ancient god of Sake.

I know almost nothing about Sake. I know it's made from rice. That's about it. And given my remote location in the summer, I was a bit worried about finding a bottle of the stuff to taste. But even my centrally-isolated coastal market had a small selection of sake, hiding underneath the cooking Sherry. Most of it was either worryingly expensive (more than $25) or worryingly inexpensive (under $5). One option was cloudy and had "rice bits" in it, and that seemed too advanced for this palate. So I picked a small-format bottle that cost just about $17.

Richard has a great rundown of Sake styles on his blog, and from his list I learned that the Sake I selected--the NV Rihaku Wandering Poet--falls into the Junmai Ginjo category. That means the wine should be full-bodied, with good acidity, and be fragrant and complex. Richard likes Junmai Ginjo as his "everyday" Sake.

I found the wine to be somewhat difficult to describe in terms of aromas and taste. It was like nothing I've smelled before--slightly glycerine, slightly yeasty, slightly reminiscent of beer. There was a clean, yeasty taste on the tongue, with a relatively full-bodied feel in the mouth. More yeasty, glycerine notes appeared in the flavors.

I liked the Sake, but at $16.99 for 375ml it's probably not something I'd rush out and buy again, and I would say it represents good QPR. However, I am intrigued and want to learn more. So this has been a great experience, because it's going to widen my wine horizons.

Thanks to Richard for a great theme, and I look forward to reading the other posts and learning more about Sake.