Tasted in Art & Science of Fine Wine class in Menlo Park (see Class Descriptions). Wine sells for around US$100, but would be hard to find in an American retail store. I use this wine to illustrate a lecture point on pruning and trellising decisions. The wine is very unusual, and not everybody likes it, but personally I always find it enormously impressive.

Background Wine Education

     1998 Wynn’s ‘John Riddoch’ Cabernet Sauvignon is from Coonawarra in the state of South Australia. Many people consider Coonawarra to be Australia’s finest Cabernet district. It is about a day’s drive south of Adelaide, and perhaps two day’s drive west of Melbourne. In short, it is way-the-hell-and-gone away from civilization. The first time I visited, in 1980, the only pub in town was still divided into separate men’s and women’s sections ~ smoke in either. Of course that was nearly two generations ago. The point is Australia has a very meager viticultural labor force under any circumstance, and Coonawarra’s isolation exacerbates the situation there.
     Things have changed somewhat in more recent vintages, but in 1998 anything a machine could do to replace manual labor was something the vintners of Coonawarra employed machines to do. That would be the polar opposite of (say) Chile, where men do so much of the work machines do in Australia. Up through at least the 1998 vintage, in Coonawarra the vines were frequently hedged rather than pruned. ‘Hedged’ implies something akin to a military haircut. Instead of one bud left on each of (say) five evenly spaced, 1” spurs vertically positioned along the cordon arms of each vine, hedging allows perhaps eighty 6” spurs protruding in all directions from the cordon arms. There may be several buds on each spur. The result is a canopy that looks like a thickly tangled cylinder, with the cordon arms running down the center. Leaves on the inside of the cylinder are in the shade all summer long. Those leaves consume nutrients, but they do not contribute to ripening.
     Coonawarra is naturally a fairly cool growing district. It’s only 37 miles from the coast, and there is persistent cloud cover. ‘Degree-days’ is a technique for measuring the highest daily temperature throughout the growing season. [Don’t try comparing these Australian numbers to those you might see from California. The Australian figures are in ºC, while those from the U.S. are usually in ºF.] Coonawarra only gets about 1,365 degree-days, while Barossa Valley, north of Adelaide gets 1,832, upper Hunter Valley, north of Sydney gets 1,743, and balmy Margaret River, hard on the Indian Ocean gets 1,629. Ultra-ripe is not a description applied to Coonawarra Cabernets in general, and back when they were grown on hedge-pruned vines, they were reliably expressive of Cabernet’s historic ‘leafy’ character.

Wine Taste Description

     Vintners in Napa Valley have discovered over the last fifteen years, as they replanted vineyards threatened by phylloxera, that Cabernet vines with all their leaves in sun will ripen faster than those on sprawling trellises with a lot of shaded leaves. Faster, more complete ripening removes any trace of the pyrazine flavor, a characteristic Cabernet Sauvignon shares with its biological parent, Sauvignon Blanc. That pyrazine flavor is similar to green peppers. Riper Cabernet grapes move toward a cassis character, and away from that green olive or haricot vert character.
     The Wynn’s ‘John Riddoch’ Cab from 1998 is a throwback. Old school. From the very start it was loaded with pyrazines. Not sprinkled; fully inundated! It was complex, wonderfully structured, and long in the finish with supple tannins. But many tasters were never able to get past the intense herbaceous smell. Which is one reason why there aren’t many (if any at all) Cabernets made in this manner anymore. Call it “Epitaph for a Cabernet” (my apologies to David Masumoto). Personally I’m a fan of the green olive style. In fact, I’d call it the aromatic signature of red wines from Pessac-Leognan in Bordeaux. I like it because I think it clearly distinguishes Cabernet Sauvignon from other red grapes. If I want a red wine smelling of sour cherries, I’ll buy a Syrah.
     I further believe the big payback from this older style of Cabernet comes when the wine gets seven or eight years of bottle-age under its belt. To me the pyrazine smells of youth are precursors for the unlit pipe tobacco smells I enjoy so much as bouquet. The Wynn’s 1998 Riddoch goes several steps beyond pipe tobacco. We’re talking big tobacco leaves, the ones meant for cigar wrappers, drying in a not too well ventilated barn. The 1998 Riddoch Cab is, today, extraordinarily intense in the nose with a wonderfully full, round, textured smell. It is still nicely balanced in the mouth, and long, but you barely notice the flavors or structure because the bouquet is performing such a thorough waterboard interrogation on your face.

Wine – Food Pairing

     I think the perfect way to pair this wine is to go all gaucho on it. Simple too. Get yourself a flank steak. Mash up a bunch of parsley, and a couple anchovies, in butter (you can use anchovy paste). Slather the mixture fairly thickly on one side of the flank steak. Roll the steak up tightly, with the paste on the inside. Once rolled, wrap the outside in Saran-wrap to secure the roll. Place it under the back of your saddle as you spend the day punchin’doggies on the Pampas ~ or leave it 8 hours in your refrigerator if somebody else is employing your horse for the day. Then grill it over hot coals that night. Serve with a baked potato and chives. Es muy macho!

Wine Classes

     Tasted in Art & Science of Fine Wine class held in Menlo Park (see Class Schedule). Beaulieu 1994 and 1995 Private Reserve Cabs are priced around $150 per bottle (if available) in most fine wine stores. Reference year-to-year California growing conditions on this website under Useful Wine Info – California Vintage Reports.

Wine Education Background

     Beaulieu ‘Georges de Latour’ Cabernet Sauvignon is a classic of the American landscape, and has been for a very long time. Originally crafted by the legendary Andre Tchelischeff, from grapes grown on Napa Valley’s Rutherford Bench, the wine was famously aged in 100% American oak. That gave the wine a considerable relationship with Bourbon ~ also aged in American oak, as is Australia’s most expensive wine, Penfold’s Grange Hermitage. What more could any cowboy want? Big slab of corn-fed beefsteak, and to wash it down, a drink that smelled like Whisky Sour and pipe tobacco. Made in America, like Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Modestly expensive, but not rare. For a long time, Beaulieu made 25,000 cases of the ‘Private Reserve’ Cab each year.
     Things have changed a little bit since Andre’s time. In the 1990’s Beaulieu replanted much of their venerable BV #1 and BV #2 vineyards as a phylloxera precaution. During the process they did some clonal experimentation, concluding that while a mix of Cabernet clones was desirable, the best outcomes always included a big percentage of UCD Cab clone #6. That clone produced smaller berries, and smaller clusters than the others. It also got riper faster, and retained better acid. Beaulieu also began adding a little Merlot to the Private Reserve. And they started using some French oak as a complement to their American barrels. BV PR Cab is not the strapping hulk of yesteryear, but it’s still pretty robust.

How Does the Wine Taste?

     What are the best vintages for BV Private Reserve? Depends whether you want to drink it at age eight, or at age twenty. Andre always thought his best vintages were the hottest years; vintages such as 1958, 1966, and 1974. Perhaps he was anticipating the current fad for ultra-ripe Cabs. 1974 was a perfect example. Temperatures during the Summer of 1974 were relatively mild, but they soared from late-August through September. The Cabs were intense, fruity, and softly supple when released. They sold like hotcakes. Contrast the 1973 vintage. It started late, due to a cold, wet Spring. Summer was cool. Harvest progressed under sunny skies, but without high temperatures. Cabs from 1973 were nicely balanced, but more acidic, and roughly tannic in youth. When superseded in the marketplace by the lush ‘74’s, the ’73’s retreated from buyers’ radar. That is until it became fashionable in the late 1980’s and early 1990’s to compare the two vintages side-by-side. At age twenty, BV PR 1974 Cab was flabby, with prune-ish overtones, while the 1973 BV PR Cab had all the structural integrity in the world, a rich cigar box bouquet, and enormous persistence in the glass.
     The results from comparing BV PR 1994 Cab to the 1995 version were similar, although the chronology is reversed. In this instance, 1994 was the dry, mild Winter followed by a balmy Summer and a dry harvest. The ’94 Cabs were smooth, concentrated, and very impressive upon release. 1995 was a wet, cold Winter and Spring. Budbreak was delayed; Summer was cool. Harvest was very late, but conducted under cool, dry skies. The ’95 Cabs were hard, closed, and unrelentingly tannic upon release. In 1999, I would have preferred (hell, I did prefer) to drink the ’94 BV PR Cab rather than its successor.
     Tasted last week, the ’94 BV PR Cab was squat and stodgy compared to its ’95 brother. Nothing wrong with it; just that its singing days are clearly numbered. Its vaunted fruitiness was diminishing and dehydrated. Twenty minutes swirling in the glass left the ’94 bent over gasping with its hands on its knees. The ’95 was much more lively in the glass. No longer tight, its walnut pesto bouquet was rich, deep, and obvious to everyone in the room. It was longer on the palate, and in the memory. It finished with the reminder of black stone fruits, and it maintained that impression for an hour. Today, I wouldn’t be disappointed with either wine served by itself. But I’d be much happier with the ’95, if I got my choice after tasting them both side-by-side.

Wine-Food Pairing

     Beef is on the menu for most people when Beaulieu Private Reserve is on the sideboard. But I think not roast beef. I think the key is grilled beef, and that implies a smokey flavor. It is a natural match with the heated leather overtones in the bouquet of bottle-aged Cabernet Sauvignon. Moreover, I don’t mind doing a little chewing when enhanced flavor is part of the deal. That implies tougher cuts, maybe grass-fed beef, longer marinade times. Think Argentine-style indoor grill.
     BV PR is a good investment wine. Not in the sense of money for resale. But certainly in the sense of consistency, reliability, and track record. Laying some bottles down, from adroitly selected vintages, for ten years of maturation in your cellar is always a good idea. It is a strategy which will allow you to drink well-developed Cabernet at a noteworthy financial savings: comparable to investing the same amount of money at an interest rate of 7% compounded annually. Call it portfolio diversification; very liquid assets.

Not all Napa Cabs are alcoholic heavyweights plodding around the ring anticipating a one-punch knockout. Here’s one with a pedigree for elegance, and the structure to make that point repeatedly.

1999 Philip Togni (Tanbark Hill) Cabernet Sauvignon from 2,000 feet high on Spring Mountain, west of St. Helena in the Napa Valley AVA. Tasted as part of the Fundamentals of Taste and Smell class in Palo Alto. Wine cost is around $100 in a retail store. The wine was compared side-by-side with a 1995 Ch. Lagrange, 5th growth St. Julien, in order to discuss the effects of bottle age on CA Cab vs. classified reds from the Medoc.
     The Togni (Tanbark) is an estate wine made from younger vines. Philip Togni received his formal wine education at a French university under the tutelage of iconic wine professor Emile Peynaud. Togni was then assistant winemaker at the Margaux 2nd growth Ch. Lascombes for several years. He bought his 25-acre hillside Napa property in 1981, and replanted on phylloxera-resistant rootstock in the mid 1990’s. He only makes about 2,000 cases per year, selling most of it direct to a mailing list. His daughter Lisa will be taking over winery operations before too long. Recently a distinguished Belgian wine panel rated Togni’s 1990 Cabernet ahead of the marvelous 1990 vintage of 1st growth Chateaux Latour, Mouton, Haut-Brion, and Margaux. No small honor, and a matter of immense pride for a man with Togni’s background.
     The comparison of these two wines in class was not as instructive as I might have hoped. Partly because the Ch. Lagrange was dried out and fibrous. It had some bouquet development, but little life. Think pressed flowers. Moreover, the Togni was almost Graves-like in its rapier structure and green olive undertones. I happened to like the Togni a great deal, but it would have been easier for me to use it as the illustration of Bordeaux characteristics, at least when contrasted to some CA fruit grenade. Spring Mountain confers higher pH than one might expect for a given level of acid. So no one would call the Togni hard nor sour. Rather it was the haricot vert flavor element which made it distinct. The hillside growing environment and the young vine-age on the Togni are probably the best lessons to be garnered from this tasting. For those of us who like a little herbaceousness (read pyrazines) in our Cabernet, this may be a teachable moment. Togni is on the west side of the valley. Their vines may well be in shade by late afternoon in September. They certainly will be getting a cool breeze above the inversion layer as the valley below cooks. Togni doesn’t try for ultra-high Brix levels. As a result he makes wines that keep inviting you back for another glass.

WINE – FOOD PAIRING
     Butterflied leg of lamb. That was straight-forward enough. The secret though, is the side dish. I’m suggesting petite peas with toasted almonds and lemon-avocado oil. Use frozen peas. There isn’t a “fresh” pea in the country you can buy that’s been off the vine less than 36 hours (unless you’ve grown it yourself). Frozen peas are put into a state of arrested degradation within an hour or two of picking. That is a great outcome for vegetables, and it is way superior to the degradation experienced by a “fresh” pea on that long, bumpy road from farm to store display. Use sliced almonds. Brown them in a skillet with two pats of butter and some salt. Watch carefully; you want medium-high heat, but they can burn in an instant. Do them a little ahead of time and set them aside. Steam the peas, stir in the almonds, and drizzle on a homeopathic dose of the intensely scented lemon-avocado oil. Feign modesty when your guests rave about the way this wine goes with the side dish. As a famous football coach once instructed his players concerning their behavior in the end zone after scoring a touchdown, “Try to act like you’ve been there before.”