Unwooded Chardonnay: Wine Blogging Wednesday #36
We’re falling really behind here. Not only have we not updated our notes from our Saturday evening Spanish tasting, but it’s 3PM PST and we’re just getting to our Wine Blogging Wednesday tasting. Thanks go to Lenn Thompson for hosting today’s event…coincidentally, you can scroll down our home page right now and read a little more about Lenn and his site, LENNDEVOURS, in an interview we posted just earlier this week.
As for our wine selections for today’s theme of unoaked Chardonnay, we’ve selected two wines. It’s getting easier to find California iterations of the unwooded style than it seems to be for other regions of the world. Maybe that’s because of a trend in California winemaking; or maybe it’s just a simple matter of labels being more transparent with information here, or (more likely) our inability to speak foreign languages. So we made it our mission to track down a couple of examples from outside of the U.S., and we’ve even stocked one of the two wines at our store since we think it’s such a deal. Rather than mix commerce with blogging, though, we’ll keep things link-free here and let you find your own way to our store if you’re enticed by the following review.
First up, the 2006 Razor’s Edge South Australia Unwooded Chardonnay. Razor’s Edge just scored some huge points for their Shiraz at one of those “legit” wine publications, and the bargain red could be the most searched wine on our site at the moment. However, they really have something going with their Chard, which defies the new world and brings us a more Chablis-like experience. Now, we’re talking Chablis, the northern appellation of Burgundy, where Chardonnay is the AOC white grape varietal (except in St-Bris, where it’s Sauvignon Blanc, but we digress) — and not Chablis, the silly name that somehow became synonymous with bad bulk California white wine sometime around the peak of Farrah Fawcett’s career.
The nose on this Chardonnay is not unlike that of a Sauvignon Blanc, which perhaps is what Chardonnay should smell like without the influence of barriques. This has a stone and mineral aroma, though it’s not overly giving upon first sniff. In the mouth, it’s a whole different story. It’s got a ton of citrus, mostly lemon, and again the slate or stoniness we referred to from the nose. The palate zips with acidity and crispness, and the wine comes alive in your mouth. There’s a bit of floral perfume as well, though nothing too pronounced; a bit like jasmine just before it hits full bloom, or perhaps honeysuckle is a more accurate descriptor. Yes, let’s go with honeysuckle. The finish is a tad tingly, due to the high acid, but we like this as it keeps that slate and citrus combo going on for quite a lengthy and pleasant finish. Considering this is an under $10 wine, we’re impressed.
All of this is kind of surprising, due to the fact that South Australia is a hot climate region (albeit a vast region with umpteen microclimates) and we would have expected this perhaps from the Perth area or New Zealand, but certainly not from an Adelaide-based winery. Apparently the growing season in 2006 was cooler and drier than usual. Alcohol weighs in at 13.5%, again modest by new world standards. Interestingly, it appears the wines may be for the export market only.
Next up we hop across a couple of oceans and land in France, to the Chateau de la Greffiere in the Macon-La Roche-Vineuse appellation. Though it doesn’t say so on the label, I was assured by Simon at Larchmont Wine and Spirits in Los Angeles that this is a non-oaked Chardonnay. He was even so kind as to call the distributor to get confirmation of this. This is somewhat unusual for Burgundy whites, and vintners of the Maconnais, more specifically where this comes from, certainly use oak during the vinification process.
After a quick sniff and a swirl in the mouth, it’s not surprising to find out that the village of “La Roche-Vineuse” translates literally to “vinous rock”. This has a surprising amount of minerality for a wine from the Southern end of Burgundy, and it’s a reflection of the area’s terroir, no doubt. The climate is warm and more tropical than the Côte de Beaune, so it’s definitely the lack of oak on this wine that is contributing to the acidity and zest that is wholly apparent.
This is a much more subtle wine than the Razor’s Edge, and though it shows citrus elements, this is not a lemon-bomb. It has just a hint of lemon zest, and a very smooth mouthfeel. The mineral elements contribute to this mouthfeel, if that’s even possible, and we imagine that training our palates by sucking wet rocks would leave us with the coating sensation this wine gives us. It’s on the finish that the that some pretty serious acidity becomes apparent. This wine has life, and it will have a long life as this acidity mellows.
At $12.99 a bottle, this is a bargain Burgundy. No doubt the reasonable price tag is a result of the winery not having used oak in the winemaking process; but this might just be the reason there’s so much texture and personality here (by the way, this is 13% alcohol by volume). If this were a buttery product of malolactic fermentation and new oak, we think this would probably lose a lot of the character that distinguishes it from its peers. Ummmm, this is the wine we don’t sell. Maybe we should do something about that?
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get your wine on
2008 “Bebame” Red, El Dorado County, California
Cabernet Franc (65%) and Gamay (35%) from - gasp - California! And only 13% ABV, pretty modest by California standards. If I tasted this blind I would probably have said it’s from the Loire Valley. It has pretty much nothing in common with the full bodied iterations of Cab Franc coming out of Napa. Juicy, light, delicious quaffing wine.$18 a bottle
2006 Telegramme Chateauneuf-du-Pape Rouge
Really balanced and smooth, this is a bargain of a Chateauneuf. Yeah, the 07s are lauded but what would I prefer to drink? This! It’s the second label of Vieux Telegraphe, from the same property but from younger vines. And it’s a deal at $33 a bottle.2006 or bust!
NV Barcino Cava: LA Times Wine of the Week!
Delicious and just in time for New Year’s Eve…this is the LA Times Wine of the Week, and we have plenty in stock. Order online, pick-up in-store!$14 a bottle!
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freshly pressed
The Business of Saying No:
No, I am not a natural wine merchant.
And no, I am also not not a natural wine merchant.
So what exactly is my store, Domaine LA? This is a tricky question that I try to answer here.
________
A couple of months back, I participated in the first annual Los Angeles Natural Wine Week, spearheaded by Lou Amdur of Lou Wine Bar. At that time, I took some heat from a few folks around the Internet who felt I might have been merely capitalizing on a trend and didn’t see me as a true natural wine merchant.
The thing is, I’ve never claimed to be a natural wine merchant. When I started my business online a few years ago, I stated plainly that I wanted to sell wines I loved. I was an enthusiast with a fairly receptive, wide-ranging palate, and I considered learning about wine a journey I would be going on alongside my customers. While I’ve since expanded my business to include a brick and mortar space, my self-conception and mission statement haven’t really changed. But my palate has.
To be absolutely blunt about it, I used to love wines that I simply can’t stomach anymore. There are blog posts archived on my website that in retrospect make me cringe, paragraphs singing the praises of some of the most blatantly manipulated wines in the world. I once criticized a wine bar for not having any Southern Hemisphere selections; it’s now my favorite spot in Los Angeles. And today I carry barely a dozen Southern Hemisphere SKUs myself.
By and large, my palate-shift is reflected in what I bring into the store. Chris Ringland and Mollydooker have been replaced by Eric Texier and Thierry Puzelat; the California fruit- and alcohol-bombs, for the most part, have given way to wines from La Clarine Farm, Donkey and Goat and LIOCO.
As a result of my largely obscure inventory, almost every day I’m faced with customers asking for items that I don’t stock. On a regular basis, I hear:
“Do you have Rombauer Chardonnay?”
No, I answer.
“Do you have Caymus?”
Afraid not, I reply.
“What about Blackstone Merlot?”
So sorry, but no.
“Where’s the Veuve Clicquot? This is a gift. I need the recipient to know it’s nice!”
Sigh.
Saying no to people sets up a potentially risky relationship that may start and end with that one exchange—many customers want what they want and aren’t open to alternative suggestions. In other cases, however, that simple “no” can be the beginning of something beautiful, a dialogue that winds up with a customer who came in looking for the Prisoner instead going home with something like Morgan Twain-Peterson’s Bedrock Heirloom Red, a wine which, while perhaps not 100% natural, is a more honest “made in the vineyard” (yes, I know this is also a cliché) version of what the Prisoner purports to be.
Of course, sometimes that customer really just wants the Prisoner. Which leads me to my major confession here: despite more than a bit of ambivalence, I continue to sell the Prisoner, along with other wines that are by no means natural, wines that are quite frankly manufactured. The Prisoner sits on the shelf right next to the Bedrock Heirloom Red, and for the time being, it will stay there. At least twice a week people come in asking specifically for this wine, and, for several reasons, it’s a request I’m not—yet—willing to deny.

Even though I no longer drink the Prisoner, there was a time–not too long ago–when I did so happily. When I first started getting interested in wine, it was a bottle that captured my imagination and helped launch me on the journey I remain committed to today. So maybe I keep the Prisoner around out of a sense of nostalgia. Or maybe I keep it around to remind me how far I’ve come. Maybe I keep it around hoping that for those who ask for it, it will simply be their starting place just as it was mine.
Or, more cynically, maybe I keep it around because people buy it. Maybe it’s a crutch to lean on when I’m too tired to hand-sell the less familiar items on my shelves. Seeing something recognizable is comforting to consumers, and that comfort somehow lends me credibility; credibility is a precedent to trust. Trust is what enables me to recommend something different to a customer who normally drinks the Prisoner.
In this sense, the Prisoner is of great value to me, not just as an easy sell, but even more so as a gateway to all the other wines I have available. I don’t know that I’d be able to move as much of the Bedrock, an unknown wine with a tiny case production, without the Prisoner right next to it.
______
Saying no is extremely hard. Right now, I’m willing to do so 90% of the time, maybe even 95%. Call me a coward or a fake if you want. But I know where I started out, and it’s been a logical evolution. And while I’m headed in a particular direction, guided by my palate, it’s safe to assume I won’t ever be a 100% “natural wine merchant.”
I like to think there’s room for somebody like me—somebody with confidence in her tastes, who also takes into account modes of production in buying decisions; someone who has a particular point of view, yet retains an inclusive attitude. I am strong in my opinions, and enthusiastic in my passions. I never judge my customers, and hope that they’ll be as open-minded and respectful of my offerings as I am of their preferences.
So far, it seems to be working out. In recent months, I’ve brought in only one case of the Prisoner (less than a thousandth of a percent of its total production) for every three cases of the Bedrock (1.3% of its total production).
So, what am I?
I’m not a natural wine merchant. And I’m not not a natural wine merchant.
I’m a work in progress. And I’m okay with that.
The Business of Saying No
Los Angeles Natural Wine Week: Taste California Terroir on 5/15/2010 at Heath Ceramics
Meet the Reps: Amy Atwood
wine jargon
Frizzante
From Wikipedia: Frizzante is an Italian wine term term for semi-sparkling wine (as opposed to Spumante, which is generally used for fully sparkling wines). Frizzante wines generally owe their bubbles to a partial secondary fermentation in tank. You might notice a light fizz or tingly sensation on the tongue with a Frizzante wine, compared to the more carbonated sensation that more fully sparkling wines yield.
Scorekage
Okay, so we made up this word yesterday after a great restaurant experience. We brought a bottle of wine with us, expecting to pay a corkage fee. But the restaurant either forgot to charge us the $15, or decided to be nice to us. We scored! Hence, “scorekage” has entered our lexicon. This can also refer to BYO friendly restaurants that don’t charge for corkage under any circumstances.
grapewise
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August 12th, 2007 at 9:47 pm
A decent white Burgundy at $12.99 - how can you not carry it? Sounds yummy!
August 19th, 2007 at 8:42 am
Hi Jill,
I found it quite hard to determine absolutely whether these Burgundies, especially Mâcons, used any wood or not. Some are put in steel tanks, but many Bourgogne whites are aged in oak barrels, and it seems that even more are briefly barreled for just a touch of wood. This Mâcon-La Roche-Vineuse sounds like one of those slightly wooded cases since “Sous le bois” on the label means “put under wood”.
It’s quite marvelous that wines like these come off as naked chardonnay. In a way, many slightly oaked chards are still miles from the heavy wood that is so easy to encounter these days, so I’m definitely retaining reviews like yours for when I need a nice simple expression of Chardonnay.
Cheers
August 19th, 2007 at 9:18 am
Hi Marcus,
Thanks for your comment. Simon was skeptical about the “sous le bois” designation on the label, but he was told by the distributor that it refers to a vineyard location, not to the wine having been wooded. Anyhow, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that there is actually oak on here somewhere…