InClined

Dam’ I like Spann!

Vineyards, that is. Great wines. Sonoma sippers.

I really enjoyed the 2006 Spann Chardonnay-Viognier ($20), rich and tasty and a favorite at Lisa's birthday bash; and I was all over the 2005 Merlot ($25) once I tasted it. Lovely! (Also hard to come by.) But NO, I missed the Spann tastings both at Cellar Rat and The Wine Bar. I need to blame somebody, or something, for this, but an easy target escapes me. At the moment.

Right about the time I was coming out of my sulk over missing the Spann tastings, the Rat threw me a bone: a Cline lineup that included single-vineyard, upper-level Zins I’d never before tasted. Harrumph. I dragged my petulant butt (and partner) downtown for some quick sipping before an engagement.

I confess I tend to overlook the Cline wines, even as I’ve enjoyed their ubiquitous $10-range offerings. The latest Oakley Five Reds is a sour-cherry, lip-smacking blend of Merlot, Barbera, Cab Franc, Mourvedre and another varietal whose name escapes me; it’s funky, and I like it even though the current blend lacks the usual Zin. I also think the Red Truck is an all-round good camping wine. But Cline Zinfandels? Eh.

Ah, dear sipper, this is what tastings are FOR. As expected, I was so-so in my reactions to Cline’s California Viognier and everyday inexpensive Zin. I liked the Cashmere a bit more; or perhaps it’s more accurate to say that I ADMIRE the Cashmere, a GSM that is pleasant – and philanthropic: Profits from Cashmere support breast cancer research efforts.

Swirling and sniffing at the rest of the Cline wares, I found I liked the Sonoma Coast Zin ($20) well enough, and I expected to like both the Bridgehead and the Big Break Zins, given what I’d read about them.

The Bridgehead? Not so much. I did like the Big Break, but my clear favorite of the tasting was the Live Oak Zin from Contra Costa County. It had more going on than the others – berries and spice, sure, but it also seemed both bigger and more nuanced than its Cline companions. It’s grown on the three acres of Cline’s Live Oak block, where they dry-farm the head-pruned vines. (And no, I don’t know what that means. I suspect it has something to do with the winemaker saying, “To hell with irrigation!” as he slashes through the vineyard with a mean pair of clippers. I don’t know what possesses someone to do that, but I certainly applaud the result.)

Wait, did I say the Live Oak was my favorite? Well yes. . . and no. It was my favorite ZIN of the tasting, and after all, it’s the siren call of Zin that got me tramping downtown right before a dinner date at Pot Pie. But. The most interesting, and delicious, of the Clines was the 2006 Small Berry Mourvedre. I can’t recall whether I’ve ever had Mourvedre straight up rather than as a GSM component – and this was yummy. Double yummy, in fact.

Why "Small Berry"? Because the vines are old and tired and can only kick out wee berries, apparently. This does not bode well for future bottlings of this winning wine, and may explain why it costs $38. Ouch. If I want THAT sort of punishment, I generally jump on the Seghesio web site.

Instead, we took home the Live Oak. I’m still thinking fondly of those eensy-weensy Mourvedre berries, though.

Empty, dusty and evocative

The wine bottles have been stacking up on the back porch, thanks to the untimely demise of yet another midtown recycling center. I have bottles in an old recycling bin, bottles in paper sacks, bottles spilling out of the various nooks and crannies into which they’ve been tucked.

Happily for me and my embarrassing bottle collection, the publisher of Greenability magazine has offered to take the bottles off my hands. She has some mysterious project in mind, and I’m lucky enough to live just a few miles from her home. (Greenability, a handsome and commendable magazine, offers green lifestyle choices to residents in and around Kansas City. Check it out at www.greenabilitymagazine.com )

So I’ve been consolidating the various strewn bottles, cramming them into sacks for the drop-off drive, which has provided the opportunity to consider the libations previously housed therein. Here’s what strikes me as I do: How few are memorable.

Some are even disappointing. I consider the Treana Mer Soleil, a Viognier-Marsanne blend that is praised to the skies by wine professionals. All I can recall is how much I did NOT find it delicious. And first impressions are terribly important with wine, I find; although a single bottle can be off, perhaps due to oxidation or corking, it’s unlikely I’ll try it again – at least not if I’m the one buying.

Wines I’d Buy Again, Happily

Wine tasting is so subjective, and so evocative. Like particular songs from particular times in one’s life, they stir memories: Three Dog Night, early ‘70s, arriving at Incirlik AFB, Turkey, for what would be two years of wonder. Tired and scared and excited. “Jeremiah was a bullfrog!” blaring from the cafeteria jukebox. The 1997 Salice Salentino Riserva, Lisa stealing into the house late one night to raid my wine cooler, and dropping a favorite stemless Reidel on the kitchen floor. Oops.

I reach into the scuffed blue bin. The first bottle I pick up, the 2004 Four Vines Old Vine Cuvee, makes me smile. This wine is a favorite, a value Zin, trusty and tasty and under $15. Its big brother, The Biker, is lounging about in the same bin, and it brings an even wider smile to my face. Andie’s birthday. Aladdin’s Café. Good tastes, good times.

Ditto for the 2004 Shotfire Ridge Barossa Cuvee, which sparks fond memories of my sister Karen’s visit. And the scrumptious, velvety Seghesio Sangiovese. Also the 2006 Seghesio Pinot Noir, one of the few Pinot Noirs I’ve ever really warmed to. Seghesio! Risotto and Barbera. Lisa, who’s never been to Wine Country, and how much fun THAT will be.

The Amavi Cabernet: Meeting the winery owner at the Rat; dining with Kimmy Tappan; cleaning with my sister. Yum! The 2005 St. Francis Old Vines Zin? As good as expected. Hereford House with Andie, and another memory of the first St. Francis Old Vines Zin -- a bottle filched from Nancy’s wine rack and enjoyed (without her) on a second-floor porch. The 2006 Honig Sauvignon Blanc, triggering memories of Laura and her frequently splendid choice of new white wines. Party!

And what’s this fun label with the dancing elephants? Of course: The unique Petite Petit, a scrumptious mix of Petite Sirah and Petit Verdot. Michael-David Vineyards. Earthquake wines. Lodi, California, with Ali and John. Fresh figs and a V.I.P. tour of the working farm/winery. Petite-Petit: marvelous.

Nah. (Wines I’ll pass on, next time)

The Este. Like other recommended wines from Spain, it did little for me. It’s not BAD, just not good enough to try again. The 2004 Clancy’s, a Shiraz/Cab/Merlot blend, also widely recommended. Eh. For me? Not so much. Also, the 2006 Eskadale The Winner’s Tank Shiraz, a gift from KT, and recommended by Sarah at the Rat. . . all I can remember is sipping it and thinking, “Hmm. Plum? Huh.”

Up in the Air

The Fife Redhead Red, which we selected as our favorite at a Cellar Rat tasting, was underwhelming the next time we had it. Maybe we’ll try it one more time. Call it a tiebreaker. Finally, the 2005 Hewitson Ned & Henry’s Shiraz. I have absolutely no memory of drinking this wine. Make of that what you will.